Bodyguard: Target

by Chris Bradford

  ‘I hope you’re well rested,’ he said to her. ‘It’s about to get crazy again. I’ve heard from the security advance party that Ash’s hotel is mobbed with fans.’

  ‘I’m getting used to that now,’ replied Charley, gazing through the windscreen at the city skyline ahead.

  The bus mounted a ramp and approached a monumental golden bridge. Spanning the breadth of the Monongahela River, the bowstring arch structure was an impressive gateway to their next stop on the tour.

  ‘Welcome to Pittsburgh, the City of Bridges!’ announced their driver, a grizzled man with a beer belly the size of a space hopper.

  As they crossed the bridge, following the signs towards the Consol Center, Charley glanced up at the lattice of golden steel girders whizzing over their heads.

  ‘Ford Pitt Bridge,’ said the driver, noting her interest. ‘Just one of four hundred and forty-six bridges in the city. I bet you’re wondering why it’s painted gold?’ He didn’t wait for her to answer. ‘It’s to match the city’s official colours – black and gold.’

  Charley nodded and smiled at the talkative driver.

  ‘A very iconic bridge, this one,’ he said, continuing with his monologue. ‘Been featured in many films. Striking Distance, Abduction, The Perks of Being A Wallflower, as well as the documentary The Song Remains The Same about Led Zeppelin’s legendary 1973 tour. This bridge is constructed from over eight thousand tonnes of steel and –’

  A muffled bang rocked the coach.

  Charley grabbed hold of a handrail as the tour bus suddenly veered across the road. The driver fought to control the wheel. There was another bang and the whole coach shuddered.

  Cars honked and swerved at the last second to avoid a collision. Charley clung on for dear life as the bus headed straight for the barrier and the dizzying drop into the river below.

  Bracing herself for the impact, Charley wished she’d been strapped in by a seat belt. Her only thought was how ironic it would be if, after all the danger she’d faced on assignments, she died in a coach crash.

  The barrier came rushing towards them. At the last second, the driver wrenched the wheel hard and steered the bus away from its fatal course. Glancing off the barrier with a screech of metal on metal, the bus swung the other way and careered across four lanes of traffic towards the opposite barrier.

  Wrestling with the wheel and working the accelerator and brake, the driver fought to regain control. Despite his efforts, the edge drew ever nearer.

  Behind her, Charley heard the other tour members screaming. A passing car was knocked spinning across the lanes. The jolt of the impact was felt through the entire bus, sending people to the floor like skittles. Yet still the coach headed towards the drop.

  No longer was the Ford Pitt Bridge a welcoming sight. With a crunching of gears, a squeal of brakes and a grating of metal, the bus rocked to an unsteady halt, teetering next to the edge. Below, Charley could see the cold grey waters that would have been their grave.

  By some miracle the driver had managed to stop the bus just in time. Sweat patches staining his white shirt, he let out a shuddering breath and switched off the engine.

  ‘Everyone OK?’ asked Big T, hauling himself to his feet.

  Charley nodded. She was shaken up but otherwise unhurt. The bassist came staggering down the stairs with Jessie and the drummer, while the others picked themselves up from the floor.

  Ash emerged bleary-eyed from his bunk and yawned. ‘Are we here already?’

  Oblivious to their almost-fatal accident, his question prompted a burst of nervous laughter from everyone on board. ‘Not quite,’ replied his drummer. ‘Looks like we might have a bit of a walk ahead.’

  ‘Walk?’ said Ash. Then he noticed the slight tilt to the tour bus and saw the waters of the Monongahela River outside the window. ‘Hey, did we crash?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said the bassist, his tone sarcastic. ‘The driver just thought he’d do an emergency stop on the edge of a bridge!’

  Clambering off the bus, Charley joined Big T and the driver to inspect the damage. Her legs were a little shaky. She couldn’t believe they’d all escaped the crash with their lives. A few more metres and they would have plunged over the side. The coach’s front grille was heavily dented from the collision with the car and the right-hand side was scraped down to the metal.

  ‘Looks like we had a blowout,’ said the driver, pointing to the nearside front tyre. All that was left was a shredded mess of rubber.

  ‘One of your rear tyres blew as well,’ noted Big T. ‘Surely that’s not normal?’

  ‘Can happen. Once one tyre goes, the others have to bear the load,’ the driver replied, hunkering down to examine the wheel rims. ‘We’ll have to call a tow truck. This bus ain’t going nowhere.’

  The flash of a camera caught Charley’s attention. Gonzo was at the roadside, capturing the accident scene as Ash stepped off the wrecked bus. His lens then focused on the shunted car as the dazed passengers climbed out.

  ‘Hope you’ve got insurance, Ash!’ called Gonzo, snapping away. ‘Think you might have a personal injury lawsuit on your hands.’

  ‘How the hell did Gonzo get here so fast?’ exclaimed Charley.

  Big T narrowed his eyes at the shutterbug. ‘Must’ve been following us.’

  In the distance the sound of police sirens could be heard.

  ‘Let’s get Ash out of here,’ said Big T, ‘before this accident scene turns into a publicity nightmare.’

  Expecting a large tour bus, the horde of Ash Wild fans barely gave the yellow taxi a second glance as it pulled up outside the Pittsburgh Hilton Hotel. Then their idol stepped from the vehicle and all hell broke loose. Fans swooped on him with deafening and delighted screams. Instantly he was surrounded and being barraged with requests for photos, autographs and kisses.

  Ash dutifully signed and posed as Big T tried to keep the crowd at bay and steer him towards the hotel’s reception. Charley remained close to Ash, blending in as one of the fans. She was still tense from the coach crash, but this served to heighten her senses, helping her to stay sharp for danger.

  She scanned the faces surrounding them, looking for any person who appeared unusually nervous, shifty or out of place. But the fans were so hysterical that it was impossible to tell if anyone posed an actual threat – they all looked dangerous.

  One girl had her hand deep inside a bag, her eyes glued to Ash. Since most of the crowd were reaching out to the rock star, this girl’s behaviour seemed odd to Charley. Wondering what she was concealing, Charley positioned herself beside the blonde-haired girl. She couldn’t see into the bag and tensed in readiness to react at the slightest threat.

  As Ash approached, the suspect pulled out … a stuffed teddy bear, with a red heart clasped between its paws.

  ‘Ash! This is for you!’ she cried, thrusting the toy at her idol.

  Accustomed to being showered with gifts by his fans, Ash accepted the bear with good grace and thanked the girl. Charley resumed her surveillance of the crowd. With the teddy bear tucked under his arm, Ash moved on to the next fan. Taking a souvenir concert programme from a brown-haired lad, he scribbled his signature across the front.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Ash asked, to personalize the cover.

  ‘Don’t you remember me?’ said the fan with a mild look of disappointment.

  Ash glanced up and did a double-take. So did Charley. There was a distinct familiarity and similarity. Charley’s alert level shot up.

  ‘It�
�s me, Pete!’ said the boy, smiling. ‘Your “twin”?’

  ‘You look different … or should I say the same,’ remarked Ash.

  ‘Yeah! After what you said, I dyed my hair the same colour as yours,’ he explained, running a hand through his matching hairstyle. ‘I also got my ear pierced and contact lenses to match your eyes.’

  He stared unblinking at Ash so he could show off his dark hazel lenses. The effect was disturbing – like a reflection in a mirror taking on a life of its own. The two boys were practically identical.

  Charley instinctively moved in to shield Ash from his self-styled doppelgänger. Other fans noticed the similarity too and began taking photos.

  ‘I’m flattered,’ said Ash as he handed back the signed programme. Then he indicated his left forearm. ‘You only need my phoenix tattoo now to complete the look.’

  Big T moved Ash on and through the revolving doors into the hotel.

  ‘Didn’t you find that lad a bit creepy?’ Charley asked Ash as they entered the relative calm of the hotel’s lobby.

  Ash shrugged. ‘That’s fan devotion for you.’

  ‘But he’s followed you from New York. Surely that’s odd?’

  ‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘On any tour I see loads of the same faces.’

  ‘But your own?’ questioned Charley.

  ‘Ash, darling! Are you OK?’ cried Zoe, rushing across the lobby towards them. ‘I heard about the crash. Sounds awful.’

  ‘To be honest, I slept through it,’ he replied.

  ‘Well, let me take that for you.’ She indicated the teddy bear under his arm. ‘I’ll put it with the rest of the gifts in your room. Now I’ve a full schedule of interviews lined up. They’ll probably ask about the crash, so I’d better brief you …’

  As Zoe led Ash away, Charley went to follow, but Big T called her back, indicating for Rick and Vince, two other members of his security team, to keep guard.

  ‘My orders are to stick with Ash,’ objected Charley.

  ‘He’ll be fine for the moment. First, we need to security-check his room.’

  Crossing the hotel lobby, they entered the lift and the old bodyguard thumbed the button for the fourth floor. As the lift slowly ascended, Big T explained, ‘Hotels throw up a whole host of security issues. First and foremost, we don’t have exclusive use. Which means anyone can enter. The hotel doormen will keep the majority of fans out. But with so many entrances and exits, any determined individual can find their way in. And some fans will even book themselves into the hotel. So stay alert for possible intruders.’

  ‘Like that copycat fan?’ said Charley. ‘Should we be worried about him?’

  Big T raised an eyebrow. ‘Granted he’s a bit weird, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I’ve witnessed far more obsessive fan behaviour in my time. Once a girl turned up to a concert in a wedding dress, hoping Ash would marry her!’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘However, I agree we should keep an eye on the boy. There’s a fine line between devotion and stalking.’

  The doors to the lift pinged open and they stepped out.

  ‘Good. Ash’s room is at the end of the corridor.’

  ‘Why’s that good?’ asked Charley.

  ‘Because anyone approaching his suite needs to have a reason to do so,’ he explained. ‘If there are rooms beyond, then guests can walk past and this undermines our security.’

  As they made their way along the corridor, Big T pointed out a red fire-exit sign. ‘In every hotel we stay in, always locate the two nearest fire exits,’ he instructed. ‘Count the doorways, note corridors and any furniture in between, and commit the route to memory. If there’s a fire and the corridor’s choked with smoke, you’ll thank me for it.’

  Inserting a key card, Big T opened the door to Ash’s suite. A luxurious cream-carpeted room spread out before them. There was a walnut desk, coffee table and L-shaped sofa. Through a second doorway lay a king-size bed, widescreen TV and en suite bathroom. Big T went into the bathroom, checked the shower cubicle, then opened all the wardrobes.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ asked Charley.

  ‘Groupies,’ he said, getting on his knees and peering under the bed.

  ‘Seriously?’ asked Charley.

  ‘Along with hidden bugs, cameras and any other sort of surveillance device.’ Big T took out a small black box from his jacket pocket. The palm-sized unit had two antennae and an LED indicator. Switching it on, he held the device over the telephone on the bedside table.

  ‘Bug detector,’ he explained. ‘Know how to use one?’

  Charley nodded. ‘Our surveillance tutor Bugsy showed us a whole bunch of them.’

  ‘Good.’ He tossed her the unit. ‘Scan the rest of the room while I finish off the physical search.’

  ‘Is this necessary every time?’ she asked as she slowly swept the device over the pictures, the plug sockets, the lights and every other fixture and fitting in the room.

  Big T nodded. ‘Remember, we’re not only protecting Ash’s physical safety – we’re protecting his privacy too. In my time as a bodyguard, I’ve come across bugged pens, phone chargers, you name it. I’ve found fans hiding in closets, paparazzi impersonating cleaning staff, pranksters doing dares. Believe me, I’ve seen it all!’

  ‘Please tell me that was my last interview,’ said Ash, slumping back in his chair as Big T closed the door on the departing reporter.

  Zoe smiled. ‘Yes, that was your last interview … for today at least.’

  ‘Thank goodness.’ Ash rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. ‘My brain’s fried.’

  Charley wasn’t surprised. Ash had slogged through ten interviews back-to-back, each reporter asking a variation of the same questions and Ash having to respond to each as if for the first time. A few brought up the ‘Only Raining’ court case with the songwriter Brandon Mills, but most grilled him about the coach crash earlier that morning. Ash’s responses were carefully prepared and guided by Zoe to avoid any statements that could be misinterpreted or taken out of context. Charley was now seeing the reality of a superstar’s life. There was a lot of hard graft behind the success and a lot of media traps to avoid.

  Getting up from his chair, Ash went over to the window. ‘I need to get out. Go for a run or something.’

  ‘The hotel has excellent gym facilities,’ said Zoe helpfully.

  ‘No, I need fresh air. I’ve been cooped up far too long.’

  Big T coughed. ‘Ash, have you seen the crowd outside?’

  Ash slid the balcony door open and stepped out. Instantly an ear-blasting chorus of screams erupted from the street below. Ash gave a quick wave to his fans, causing another torrent of delighted shrieks, before coming back inside.

  ‘Yep,’ he said with a smirk. ‘Looks like we’ll have to sneak out the back.’

  Big T regretfully shook his head. ‘There are fans camped there too. Why not use the gym as Zoe suggested?’

  ‘But I have to get out of here!’ cried Ash in a surprisingly childish tantrum. He strode through to his bedroom, opened his suitcase and rummaged around for his trainers and sports kit.

  ‘I’m not employed to tell you what you can and can’t do,’ said Big T calmly. ‘But I’d advise against it.’

  Ash kicked off his shoes. ‘I can’t be a prisoner of my own fans.’

  Big T let out a heavy sigh like a steam train coming to a stop. ‘If you must go for a run, keep a low profile. Otherwise your jog will end up looking like the London marathon!’


  ‘We could leave through the loading bay,’ suggested Charley, recalling the hotel’s layout from the operation folder that José and David had compiled. ‘It leads on to a side street – unlikely any fans would be there.’

  ‘And I’ll wear my hoodie and sunglasses,’ said Ash, heading into the bathroom to change.

  ‘Fine,’ relented Big T. ‘But Rick and Vince will accompany you.’ He radioed for the two security guards.

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’ asked Ash in a teasing tone.

  ‘I’m a tank, not a sports car,’ Big T replied with good humour. ‘I’ll leave the jogging to the younger pups.’

  ‘I’ll go too,’ volunteered Charley.

  ‘As long as you can keep up,’ called Ash.

  Charley held her tongue, reminding herself that action would speak louder than words. She hurried to her room, almost as eager as Ash to escape the confines of the hotel. Touring wasn’t exactly a healthy lifestyle and she missed her daily runs in the Welsh mountains. She quickly slipped into her running gear and was already waiting outside Ash’s door when he emerged.

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ said Ash as Rick and Vince joined them in the corridor.

  To avoid detection, the four of them headed down the stairwell to ground level, then worked their way through the kitchens to the loading bay. They got a few stares from the hotel staff but were otherwise unopposed.

  ‘You were right!’ said Ash as they walked down the ramp and on to the side street. ‘No fans at all.’

  But no sooner had he said this than a figure leapt out from behind a dumpster. He was armed with a rapid-fire SLR camera and began to reel off shot after shot.

  ‘Trying to sneak out unseen, are we?’ said Gonzo, his ratty face triumphant at another exclusive photo. ‘Running from an accident? That’s a criminal act.’

  Ash kept his hoodie up and his head down. Rick stepped between the camera lens and Ash. ‘Give it a rest, Gonzo.’