Security

by Mandy Baggot

  “I’ve got a car at the back,” Nathan informed. He took a firm hold of Autumn’s arm.

  She had one hand on the door of the hotel entrance, and she could see the paparazzi calling to her. Nathan’s grip on her was vise-like.

  “Autumn…” Alison began.

  “We need to go.” Nathan tightened his hold and frog-marched her toward the rear of the building.

  “Mother!” Autumn shrieked as she was bowled along by both his pace and his determination.

  “I’ll call you this evening,” Alison called after them. “You’ll let me know where you are.”

  Nathan called back, “I’ll let you have a number.”

  Chapter Three

  “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the record company,” Autumn exclaimed. “And why am I in the front? I never travel in the front! It’s safer in the back. Don’t you know anything?”

  The car was silver. She hated silver. It reminded her of fish, and she hated fish, all kinds, even caviar. Especially caviar. Horrible black pin-head-sized lumps that got stuck in your teeth. Juan had it all the time, even on bagels. And after he had eaten it, he would kiss her, and she would be left with a mouth tainted with the odor. It made her sick just thinking about it. Or maybe it was Nathan’s driving that was doing that. He was going almost seventy, and they were in a forty zone.

  “I need to look in the rear-view mirror,” Nathan said. “I can hardly do that properly if you’re using it to touch up your make-up. Here, vanity unit.” He reached up and flicked down the visor.

  “My make-up doesn’t need touching up. It’s twenty-four hour,” Autumn replied, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and it’s very expensive. These tiny, tiny bottles probably cost more than you earn in a month,” Autumn taunted.

  “Well done.”

  Autumn huffed a sigh and looked out the passenger window as the streets of South London flashed past her. It was hard to take in what had happened in the last hour. She hadn’t even wanted to meet her mother. She had been deliberately late so it wouldn’t last too long, and now, here she was on the verge of being hunted down by a terrorist organization. She had heard of As-Wana, everyone had. They were touted on the news as being the new Al-Qaeda. They had blown up part of an Embassy building in Spain a little more than a month ago. Their motive seemed to be general death and destruction with a vague mention of hatred for the Western world, and because of that, London seemed to constantly be on a high state of alert.

  Nathan flicked on the radio, and a heavy rock track blasted out of the speakers, shaking the door panel.

  “Turn it down!” Autumn ordered, covering her hands with her ears.

  “Sorry. Not your thing, is it? You’re more into electro-pop…whatever that is,” Nathan stated with a smirk.

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know you’ve been writing music since you were seven years old. You play the piano, the guitar, and the cello, and I also know you’ve sold more records than the Backstreet Boys already.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” she answered.

  “No? Not sold better than the Backstreet Boys?”

  “I have no idea about that. But I wrote my first song when I was eight, not seven. Mother decreases the age every time someone asks her about it, like eight isn’t good enough. Soon she’ll have me composing in the womb.” Autumn sighed with frustration.

  “I’m guessing you two have a complicated relationship,” Nathan continued, looking across at her.

  “I’m not talking to you. I don’t even know where we’re going. Where are we going?” Autumn looked out the window and tried to catch a glimpse of any landmarks she might recognize.

  “Home,” Nathan answered.

  “I live in a penthouse by the Thames. This is not the way home.”

  “Your new home—well, for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll go to the airstrip,” Nathan informed.

  “Airstrip!“ Autumn screamed. “Where are you taking me? Stop the car!” Autumn reached for the door handle.

  The central locking clicked into place, and Nathan stepped on the gas.

  “Unlock the car! How am I supposed to know that you’re not one of them? I mean, how much does my mother know about you? You could be a member of the gang who wants to kidnap me. You’re ticking all the boxes so far. You’re rude, and you pull me around. You’re keeping me in a car against my will. You’re dressed really badly, and you drive like a maniac.”

  “You’re flattering me.”

  “This is completely unacceptable. I mean, I need to go home. I need clothes and make-up and my keyboard and my guitar and other things, lots of other things,” Autumn said, playing with the fingers of her gloves.

  “I have stuff,” Nathan replied.

  “You have stuff. What does that mean? What stuff? My stuff? Have you been in my apartment? ”

  She was beside herself with anxiety. She liked routine and organization in her life. Every one of her days for the next five years was planned out with hourly windows for people and organizations to slot into. This spontaneity and the danger accompanying it was too much.

  “Fuck, are you always like this?” Nathan wanted to know.

  The conversation was broken by the sound of Autumn’s Blackberry ringing. She hurriedly unfastened her purse and began searching for it.

  Nathan swerved the car to the curb and halted. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “It’s none of your business,” Autumn said as she located her phone and prepared to take the call.

  “Don’t fucking answer it! Give it to me!”

  “I don’t think so.” Autumn’s finger hovered over the answer key.

  Nathan grabbed hold of the phone, snapped off the back, and took out the SIM card and battery. He smashed the battery repeatedly on the dashboard, got a knife out of the pocket of his trousers, and cut the SIM card clean in half.

  “When I ask you to do something, Autumn, you do it!”

  “You’ve destroyed my phone! My phone! I have everything on that phone! Numbers, appointments, names, dates! Everything!” Autumn exclaimed in horror as she watched Nathan drop the phone, battery, and card out the car window.

  “I’ll get you an address book. Remember them? Pen, paper, no hope of being tracked by technology,” Nathan responded, adjusting the collar of his jacket and circling his shoulders.

  “How am I going to call Juan or Janey? They won’t know where I am.” Autumn’s eyes glistened with tears.

  “That’s the general idea,” Nathan said, restarting the car.

  Tears began to spill from Autumn’s eyes. “But—”

  “Listen, you need to understand something right now. Until this threat is over, I’m in charge, of everything. That’s everything to do with you. What you do or don’t do, where you go or don’t go, who you speak to or don’t speak to. We need to be absolutely clear about that.” Nathan pulled the car away from the curb.

  “Janey’s my PA. She organizes things. I don’t need anyone else,” she said, searching her purse for a tissue.

  Nathan grabbed hold of her jacket and clenched a fist full of the expensive material. He dragged her toward him until the gear stick was lodged at the bottom of her ribcage.

  “Do I have to fucking spell everything out to you? You either do as I say or someone is going to put a bullet in your head or worse. Do you understand that?”

  His teeth were clenched hard, his lips were tight, his nostrils flared, and his grip on her was solid.

  She bit her lip and tried her best not to whimper. The gear stick was pushing against her bones, and Nathan’s fist was holding her so tightly, her skin was starting to burn beneath the paper-thin jacket. She wondered what on Earth could be worse than being shot in the head.

  “This isn’t a game or an episode of Spooks. This is real life, and it’s happening now. I want you on your guard every second of every minute. You speak to no one. You trust no one, not any
one. Not your PA, not your boyfriend. No one.”

  “You’re hurting me, and you’re squeezing the life out of my Audrey Dupont. I don’t expect you to know who she is. She’s French. She designs clothes, and this is a one-off,” Autumn babbled through her tears.

  Nathan let go of her and blasted the horn at a car that had cut in front of them.

  “Audrey fucking Dupont,” Nathan repeated, shaking his head.

  Autumn wiped at her eyes with the fingers of her gloves and stole a glance at him. He looked exasperated, even though he probably couldn’t spell it. She did that to people all the time. She did it on purpose. Why? To get noticed. It was better to get noticed for being a bitch than it was to not be noticed at all. No one noticed the Autumn Raine who just wanted a conversation, unless they could gain from it. But everyone noticed her when she made them stand to attention, It was easy to demand the impossible, create a fuss when it wasn’t delivered, watching people bite their lips and try to hold their temper, worried for their jobs. Nathan didn’t seem to be overly worried though, just pissed off.

  “Can I go home now?” Autumn asked.

  “Are you living on another fucking planet? Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?” Nathan blasted, putting his foot to the floor and speeding toward a roundabout.

  “I understand that my mother’s employed you, but that really doesn’t have a lot to do with me. We’re not really involved in that sort of capacity. I hire and fire for myself so…”Autumn started.

  Nathan let out a laugh so loud, she had to reach for her ears. It was raucous and booming and rather like a crazed pantomime villain.

  “You are something else. Fuck, if it wasn’t so tragic, it would be hilarious!”

  Autumn began to count her fingers out on the car’s door frame. One…two…three…four…five, second hand, six…seven…eight… nine…ten. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t spend any significant time with this man. He was unhinged. He had no idea who she was and how he should behave toward her. He wore cheap clothes and smelt of some terribly inexpensive aftershave. He was ill-mannered and uncouth. He knew nothing about style, and he definitely didn’t wax. She swallowed as she caught herself looking at the open neck of his collar.

  “Travelodge or Premier Inn,” Nathan barked at her.

  “What?”

  “You fucked up the safe house by taking that phone call. Choose, or we toss a coin.”

  “I have no business at either of those establishments.”

  “You do now. So what’s it to be? Lenny Henry?”

  “You want me to spend the night at a…a…motel,” Autumn said, her mouth hardly able to form the word.

  “Don’t worry, you won’t have to speak to any menials. You’ll be going in the back way and leaving only under the cover of darkness.”

  “This is outrageous! I won’t let you do this!” Autumn said in a panic. “I can’t stay in one of those places. They’re all starchy sheets and one synthetically stuffed pillow. They have shower caps, completely useless hairdryers, and a distinct lack of Rooibos on the complimentary tea tray.”

  “That’s pretty intimate knowledge,” Nathan remarked.

  “The rooms smell of smoke, even the non-smoking ones. The TV only gets Freeview channels, and they don’t even have room service!”

  “I think you’ll find they do.”

  “They do what?”

  “Have room service.”

  “Oh! What, some grimy little man in a stain-splattered waistcoat, bringing you a lukewarm pizza? That is not room service,” Autumn proclaimed, closing her purse up with a triumphant thump.

  “What can I say? I like cold pizza,” Nathan responded.

  “That speaks volumes.”

  He let out an audible sigh and pulled the car over into an empty lay-by. He switched off the engine and undid his seatbelt. Autumn began to open and close her purse, waiting for whatever he was going to do next. One, click, two, click, three, click, four, click…

  He turned to face her. “Stop doing that,” he ordered.

  “Doing what?”

  “Put the fucking purse down. I get that you have OCD. I know all about it, but I just didn’t realize it was going to be this fucking annoying!”

  He wrenched her purse from her and threw it onto the back seat. The clasp was undone and Autumn turned and watched the contents spill out onto the seat.

  Autumn put her hand to her throat as the breath caught there. “I have to get to five! Give it back! I have to get to five! Please!”

  “No.”

  “Oh my God, you can’t do that. I have to get to five. You don’t understand. I have to. I can’t stop at four and a half. Please, let me out of the car. Let me get my purse.”.

  Her voice was choked and she teased the end of the glove on her left hand with her right.

  He looked at her now and almost felt sorry for the pathetic bitch. She thought counting up to five was a life or death situation! She hadn’t a fucking clue. She had a life or death situation going on right now, and she didn’t even want to acknowledge it. This was a job he hadn’t wanted, but he’d owed someone a favor, a bit of a massive favor, and he couldn’t say no. If he’d said no, it would have started the ball rolling on a whole catalogue of situations he didn’t even want to think about. So he was stuck. Stuck with this prissy, skinny, uptight diva who thought staying at a budget hotel was going to kill her. If she counted all night he might just put her out of her misery himself. Or he could always go into hiding. He’d done that before.

  He leaned across his seat, reached into the back, and grabbed hold of Autumn’s purse. He brought it over onto his lap and opened and closed it.

  “Five, there, are we done?” he asked, looking at her.

  “I hate you,” she hissed, glaring back.

  “That’s better. Real emotion, real venom. That’s good. Now that we both know where we are, things will get easier.” Nathan restarted the car.

  He unceremoniously dumped her purse back on her lap and pulled the car out onto the road.

  Chapter Four

  Whatever place this was he’d brought her to, it was a grade below the Premier Inn. She’d seen there was a coffee cup mark on the complimentary writing pad then closed her eyes to the rest of it, too scared what she might find. He’d made her stay locked in the car while he checked them in, then he’d escorted her around the back of the building and in through the fire door he’d somehow deactivated from the alarm system and left ajar. Now, having ensured the windows were locked and the curtains closed, he was lying on the bed, flicking through TV channels. He’d taken his jacket off and hung it over the one chair in the room. It looked even worse hugging the seat than it had hugging his body. It was made of such terribly inferior quality cloth, she couldn’t bear to look at it. She looked at him instead. The view wasn’t that much better. He’d pulled his shirt out of his trousers and unfastened two of the buttons. He looked so untidy. Juan wouldn’t believe any of this when she told him.

  Juan. She actually ached for him right now. They talked about important things, like who they thought would be on the guest list of the next party they’d been invited to and what they’d be wearing. Juan was a rapper—stage name Rockweiler. He talked about collaborations and re-mixes, cool clubs and performances. He spoke her language. She would make a point of listening to his demo as Janey seemed to think it was important. She’d been a bit wrapped up in her own stuff lately, but he would understand. He knew the industry pressures.

  “So, when do I get to go to my room?” Autumn asked, still hugging her purse, unmoved from her position by the door.

  He didn’t respond. He didn’t even move his eyes away from the television. It was like she hadn’t even spoken. She wasn’t accustomed to being ignored when she demanded something. She hated being ignored.

  “I said, when do I get to go to my room.”

  “How long are you going to keep this up?” Nathan asked, his eyes still trained on the TV.

  “Ke
ep what up?”

  “I thought I’d made myself clear earlier. You don’t go anywhere without me from now on.”

  “That’s going to make peeing difficult.”

  “I’ll be right outside the door.”

  Autumn let out a high-pitched scream and launched her purse at him. It landed on the bed, and he didn’t even flinch.

  “You can’t do this! You can’t treat me like some sort of prisoner. I have places to be, people to see. My PA will be wondering where I am. If I don’t check in with her, she’ll call the police. What happens then?” she asked, stalking over to the bed and glaring at him.

  The truth was, unless the record company called Janey to tell her she hadn’t turned up for the meeting, she wouldn’t know Autumn wasn’t there. And as for the police, well, Autumn had spent six long, lonely hours cruising up and down the Thames in a boat she’d flagged down when a photographer had suggested a semi-nude shoot Janey had neglected to mention. The police hadn’t been called, and in those six hours, there hadn’t even been a single text.

  “The police know as much as they need to,” Nathan said, still unmoving.

  “I can’t stay here with you, I can’t! It’s too dirty. It’s too small. There’s one bed! One!”

  “There’s a chair. I’ve already counted the dots on it. It’s an even number.” Nathan flicked over the channel on the television.

  “You patronizing bastard! How dare you do this! How dare you!”

  She flew at him, grabbed her purse, and hit him in the chest with it. The next thing she knew, she was lying on her back on the bed, her wrists forcefully gripped by two firm hands. Nathan leaned over her, his teeth locked together, his expression rage-ridden.

  “Listen to me, Lady fucking Gaga. You’re really starting to piss me off. I told you, I don’t want this job, but there’s someone I owe, and this is me paying them back. Fuck me, if I thought it was going to be this annoying I would have begged them for another get-out.”