Bodyguard: Target

by Chris Bradford

  Charley saw the wounded look on the old bodyguard’s lined face. She wanted to say something in his defence, but Zoe cut in from the next table. ‘Hey, listen to this! Latest update on CNN … the fire was no accident!’ she exclaimed, reading from a news app on her smartphone. ‘The police report states it was arson … They’ve found what appears to be the remnants of a home-made incendiary bomb.’ She showed them a picture of a charred can of Hyper energy drink and the remains of a cheap digital watch. ‘The fire was started in a housekeeping store cupboard … and someone had disabled the hotel’s sprinkler system!’

  Big T leant forward in his seat. ‘Any suspects?’

  Zoe read a little further down, then shook her head. ‘The police have no leads whatsoever … and no one has claimed responsibility so far.’

  Charley put down her orange juice. ‘The fire had to be targeted at Ash.’

  Ash glanced up from his omelette, his fork hanging halfway between the plate and his open mouth.

  ‘Fire is a very indiscriminate method of murder,’ Big T noted. ‘Ash may have escaped unharmed, but other guests didn’t. It’s a miracle so few were actually hurt in the blaze.’

  ‘But if some maniac is willing to go to those lengths,’ Charley pointed out, ‘it shows how determined they are.’

  Kay narrowed her eyes. ‘Aside from the death threats we know about, what makes you think Ash was targeted?’

  ‘Our closest fire exit was blocked,’ Charley explained.

  Zoe gasped and looked at Jessie. ‘Thank heaven you made me run the other way.’

  Jessie nodded. ‘Yeah, we’d have been trapped too!’

  ‘Good thing you did,’ said Ash, setting down his fork. ‘The fire was on the other side of the door. Without Charley smothering me, I’d have been burnt to a crisp.’

  He took Charley’s hand in his. She smiled warmly in response. Their near-death experience had definitely brought them closer.

  Big T rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘It might not have been blocked on purpose. Many fire doors have smoke seals that expand under heat to close the gap between the door and its frame. The fact they worked in this case probably saved your lives.’

  ‘That does seem more likely than a direct attack on Ash,’ admitted Kay.

  The diner’s entrance swung open and Vince approached their table. ‘I’ve been informed that it’s safe to return to the hotel and collect our belongings,’ said their security guard.

  ‘Well, thank God for the San Francisco fire service,’ said Kay. ‘I just hope they managed to save my dresses.’ She raised an eyebrow in response to Terry’s shocked expression. ‘That’s a joke, Terry, in case you’re wondering.’

  They rose from the table and headed back to the hotel. From the outside there appeared to be little damage, just a few shattered windows and black smears of soot staining the outer walls. Entering the lobby, the reception area was in organized chaos, but a VIP representative from the hotel swiftly escorted their group past security and up the stairs.

  The benefits of being a celebrity, thought Charley.

  On the sixth floor, she and the others were confronted by the full devastation wreaked by the blaze. The corridor was scorched and the walls blackened. The harsh acrid tang of smoke still hung in the air and the carpet was soaked with water from the fire hoses. As they each peeled off to gather their belongings, Charley was amazed to discover her and Ash’s rooms were untouched by the fire, their closed doors having held back the flames. There was still the reek of smoke, but that appeared to be the only serious damage.

  Next door she heard Ash exclaim his delight at finding his guitar in one piece. She looked in and smiled to herself when she saw him caressing the instrument like a long-lost lover. But she noticed the Intruder device that she’d attached to Ash’s door frame had melted beyond repair.

  Returning to her room, Charley checked and repacked the contents of her Go-bag: spare Intruders, half-empty pepper spray, high-impact pen, first-aid kit, comms unit, torch. As expected, her phone registered several missed calls from Buddyguard HQ – Jason’s concern growing with each voicemail message – and a bunch of warning texts from the Intruder device catching her entering and leaving Ash’s room during the fire. She deleted these, then called HQ.

  The phone was picked up on the first ring. ‘Charley! Is Ash OK?’ asked Jason.

  ‘Yes, he’s fine,’ she replied. ‘I am too. Thanks for asking.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ he said, though Charley wasn’t sure if he was referring to her or Ash or both of them. ‘We saw the fire on the news and pictures of your dramatic escape, but we were worried that we hadn’t had any contact from you.’

  ‘I’d left my phone in the room. For obvious reasons, I was in a bit of a rush to get out,’ she explained. ‘But I’ve got your messages now.’

  ‘Yeah, the colonel insisted that I kept calling.’

  ‘And I was beginning to think you cared.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Jason replied. ‘Report in later.’ Then, before signing off, he added, ‘Stay safe, Charley.’

  ‘Will do,’ she replied, unable to suppress a smile at his note of concern.

  Putting the phone back in her bag, she hunted through her suitcase for some clean clothes that didn’t stink too much of smoke. She was now grateful for Bugsy’s foresight in supplying fireproof clothing. As she pulled on a pair of jeans, she noticed a white hotel envelope on the carpet behind the door. She picked it up, frowned at the blank front and peeled open the seal. Inside was a clipping from a tabloid magazine: Gonzo’s photo of her with Ash at the restaurant in Dallas. Pasted beneath it in letters cut out from a newspaper were the words:

  Ash was certainly a trouper. Despite a sore throat from smoke inhalation and surviving yet another attempt on his life, he was resolved to perform for his San Franciscan fans at the Oakland Oracle Arena that night. He burst on to the stage with a kamikaze-like energy, his gravelly voice more than suiting his style of rock music. As Charley watched him literally rip one of his guitars apart during a solo, then set it on fire, she wondered if Ash’s third brush with death had tipped him over the edge. He was acting as if this might be his last ever concert on earth.

  Then again, she thought, his extreme performance might be his way of letting off steam. Whatever, this gig was jaw-dropping and his fans, sensing Ash’s desperation, were going wild for him.

  Behind the scenes, Kay had taken up the reins alongside Terry as tour manager, her presence an iron rod to band and crew alike. Nothing was being overlooked in terms of stage management or venue security. Everything had been triple-checked. The gigs were being run like a military operation.

  But Charley knew someone had slipped the net.

  The newspaper threat she’d received couldn’t be any more clear. The fire had been a premeditated attack on her and Ash. And if she needed any more proof she’d subsequently read in a news report that the arson investigators had found the burnt-out remains of a cleaning trolley wedged behind the fire door on their floor of the hotel.

  Charley had harboured a tiny hope that the message on the mirror had been a prank, a hoax, or at the most a knee-jerk reaction by a jealous fan at the Dallas concert. But she could no longer delude herself.

  The homicidal maniac was on the tour with them.

  How else did that person know the hotels they were staying at, discover which rooms she and Ash were in, and pass unquestioned through their security checks?

  In order to carry out the crimes, the culprit had to
have access backstage, to the hotels and to the tour bus. Only somebody with an official pass could move unseen and undetected. The idea of it chilled her blood and made her more paranoid than ever.

  The enemy was definitely within!

  Charley had her suspicions who the perpetrator might be, but no direct proof. The envelope with its newspaper clipping was now in the pocket of her jeans. She hadn’t yet told Big T or Buddyguard about it. She knew that Colonel Black would instantly pull her off the assignment and she didn’t trust anyone else, not even Big T, to keep Ash safe. She had to see this assignment through to the end. It was her duty.

  Besides, if the maniac was who she thought it was, then she could handle them easily enough when they showed their hand. But when would that be? And would she be in the right place at the right time to stop them?

  Any mistake, delay or miscalculation in her reactions could result in Ash’s death.

  Charley remembered the tattoo on Big T’s inner forearm. A pair of weighted scales and the words: Guilty until proven innocent.

  She couldn’t afford to wait. She couldn’t risk Ash’s life any longer.

  Pete was standing beside Jessie, bobbing and weaving in time to the music, mouthing the words in sync with Ash, as he did every night. Jessie was gazing in reverential awe at her hero on the stage, her hands clasped to her chest in deep devotion. Both had an unnatural obsession with Ash, but only one had a motive to kill him.

  Convinced who it was, Charley made up her mind to act. She radioed for back-up, then confronted Ash’s stalker.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ demanded Jessie, as she was shoved into a chair in an empty dressing room.

  Vince stood by the door, while Rick kept a hand on Jessie’s shoulder and ensured she stayed seated.

  ‘Don’t play innocent with me,’ said Charley. ‘You know exactly why you’re here.’

  Jessie’s eyes flicked from Vince’s impassive face to Rick’s stony expression and back to the furious glare Charley was giving her. The startled girl looked like she might burst into tears at any moment. Charley thought Jessie was putting on a convincing act. But of course she’d have to be a good actress in order to con her way into everyone’s trust.

  ‘Charley, what have I done?’ she pleaded.

  ‘Aside from set fire to the hotel? Try to kill Ash.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Jessie. ‘Why would I want to hurt Ash? I love him.’

  ‘That’s exactly why. That’s your motive. You’re obsessed with Ash to the point of madness.’

  ‘No, this is madness. I haven’t done anything but support him,’ said Jessie angrily. She tried to rise, but Rick firmly pushed her back down.

  The door to the dressing room opened and Big T stormed in. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘This is who’s behind all the threats and attacks on Ash,’ stated Charley, stepping aside.

  Big T stared at the frightened girl in the chair. ‘What, Jessie?’ he said, his thick brow creasing in scepticism. ‘But she runs Ash’s US fan club. She’s his biggest fan.’

  ‘Gives her the perfect cover,’ argued Charley. ‘In order to stage these so-called accidents she needed to have complete access to all locations. Her tour pass is the ticket to her crimes.’

  ‘You’re insane!’ spat Jessie. ‘You’re making accusations without any shred of proof!’

  Big T cocked his head at Charley. ‘She’s got a point. Where’s your evidence?’

  ‘Well … there isn’t anything that directly incriminates her,’ admitted Charley, ‘but there’s a lot of circumstantial evidence that points to Jessie.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Big T, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

  Charley took a deep breath. She’d been thinking hard since the discovery of the envelope that morning. ‘I can’t say whether any of this links back to the original letter bomb or the “No more encores” death threat. But I do know that I found Jessie sneaking around backstage the night of the spotlight accident. She was hiding behind the drum riser, right next to one of the wire-rope ladders that led up to the lighting rig.’

  Jessie rolled her eyes. ‘I told you at the time I wanted to see the stage setting like Ash does.’

  ‘I believe she’d just come down the ladder after rigging the spotlight and was checking that it was aligned with the toaster lift,’ Charley continued, ignoring the girl’s incredulous laugh. ‘Next, a little before Ash was electrocuted, Jessie took his microphone for the acoustic set. I think she may have switched it for the faulty one.’

  Jessie snorted in disbelief. ‘Oh, come on! Really? You were there with me. How was I supposed to do that? I’m not a magician.’

  ‘But you were the only one to handle it, apart from the crew. Geoff also complained that you had touched the gear before. That in itself is suspicious,’ responded Charley. ‘Then there’s the fire last night. A few things have struck me as odd. First, it’s funny how you knew not to go to the closest fire exit, the one that was blocked.’

  ‘I didn’t know which way I was running,’ argued Jessie. ‘I don’t think anyone did. It was chaos.’

  ‘But at breakfast Zoe said you made her run your way. Why?’

  ‘I-I … don’t know. I thought that way was the closest exit.’

  ‘But you just said you didn’t know which way you were running. You’re lying!’

  Jessie began to cry, her mascara running down her plump cheeks in black lines.

  Charley wasn’t going to let herself be swayed by crocodile tears. ‘Second, I found it strange that you were fully dressed in the middle of the night. That indicates you were ready for the fire.’

  ‘I-I don’t go to bed until late,’ sobbed Jessie. ‘I was updating Ash’s fan website … Honest … You can look at my posts. You’ll see the times I uploaded them.’

  ‘Posts can be scheduled in advance.’

  ‘Oh, you have an answer for everything, don’t you?’ snapped Jessie, glaring at Charley through tear-filled eyes. ‘You just want to get rid of me. You’re the one who’s paranoid. You’ve got your claws into Ash and now you want to make sure no one else has him.’

  Charley laughed. ‘That’s exactly what you’re trying to do. You’ve admitted you love him many times. You even stated that you’d kill to be in my position. You’re jealous. And because you can’t have him you’ve decided no one will.’

  Leaping up from her chair, Jessie swiped her false red nails at Charley’s face. ‘You liar!’

  Charley barely managed to evade the razor-sharp points. Instinctively defending herself, she aimed a knife-hand strike to the girl’s neck.

  ‘Enough!’ barked Big T, grabbing hold of her wrist mid-strike. Rick seized Jessie in his arms and pulled the two girls apart. ‘Charley, this is all very thin. Pure speculation. Don’t you have any firm proof?’

  Charley took out her mobile phone. ‘The day after Ash and I were photographed in the restaurant, I too started receiving death threats. Most were online, but this one was written on my bathroom mirror.’

  Charley brought up the photo she’d taken of the lipstick threat:

  TO BE AN ANGEL

  U NEED 2 DIE FIRST!

  ‘Recognize your handwriting, Jessie?’ she asked, tilting the screen in her direction. Jessie’s eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously in denial.

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you bring this to my attention sooner?’ said Big T, his jaw tensing.

  ‘I thought it was a tour prank,’ Charley replied
. ‘But then I got this.’

  She pulled out the magazine clipping and showed it to him.

  ‘I’m sure this’ll be familiar to you too, Jessie,’ said Charley.

  Jessie stared at the picture in horror. ‘I didn’t do that,’ she replied, her voice small and quiet.

  Big T grabbed the clipping from Charley’s hand. ‘This is no tour prank! When did you get this?’

  ‘I-I only just came across it … earlier this morning,’ explained Charley, stumbling over her words.

  ‘This morning!’ Big T threw his hands up in disbelief, then he waved the clipping in her face. ‘This changes everything. This confirms the fire was a direct attack on Ash! The police need to be told. If I’d known you were under threat too, I’d –’

  Charley’s phone rang. She turned away from Big T and answered it. ‘Hello?’

  The voice on the other end of the line declared, ‘I’ve done it.’

  ‘Done what?’ asked Charley, pressing her mobile to her ear.

  ‘I’ve traced the accident messages,’ repeated Amir, the excitement in the new recruit’s voice matched only by the speed at which he tried to explain his findings. ‘I’m sorry it took me so long, but you didn’t give me much to go on. A couple of internet posts with different accounts. But I managed to hack into them both easily enough and dig up more messages. Of course, they were dummy accounts, created with false email addresses that led to fake personal information. Pretty much a dead end for your average hacker. But I reverse-tracked how the messages were posted.’

  He paused, clearly expecting Charley to be impressed at this flash of hacking insight.

  ‘OK … and?’ prompted Charley, holding up a hand to stop Big T interrupting the call.

  ‘All of them were posted using the same phone,’ he revealed. ‘Obviously, the IP addresses were dynamic so I couldn’t discover it that way. And the suspect kept changing the SIM card so the phone number wasn’t fixed or traceable. They’re being very careful to cover their tracks. But the IMEI number of the phone itself is constant.’