Bodyguard: Target

by Chris Bradford

  Charley moved through to the bedroom. Guns N’ Roses had given way to Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’.

  ‘Find anything?’ asked Ash, slumped against the pillows, his hands clasped behind his head.

  ‘Not yet,’ Charley answered, waving the detector over a picture frame.

  ‘I reckon it’ll turn out to be nothing,’ said Ash. ‘Reception probably told another staff member to bring up my bags and the head porter is peeved he missed out on a fat tip.’

  ‘Let’s hope that’s the case,’ said Big T, entering the bedroom to the fading guitar distortion of Nirvana.

  ‘We Built This City’ by Starship began playing on the TV and Ash made a face in disgust. ‘Oh, this has got to be the worst rock song ever!’

  Looking through the drawers, Big T pulled out a TV remote. ‘Have you scanned this?’ he asked Charley.

  She nodded. He was about to return the unit to the drawer when Ash switched channels.

  Big T frowned. ‘Hand over that remote,’ he demanded.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t take you for a Starship fan,’ replied Ash, switching back channels.

  ‘I’m not,’ stated Big T, taking the suspect unit from Ash and examining it. As soon as Charley passed the bug detector over it, the detector vibrated and the indicator shot into the red.

  ‘Bingo!’ said Big T. He prised open the plastic casing to expose a SIM card, microphone and transmitter.

  Ash stared in disbelief at the covert bugging device. ‘You can’t be serious! That’s James Bond stuff.’

  ‘Who do you think planted it? Gonzo?’ suggested Charley.

  ‘Him or another pap guy,’ Big T replied. ‘Whatever, someone is going to great lengths to keep tabs on Ash.’

  ‘Surely it’s illegal to bug someone?’ exclaimed Ash, his tone turning angry. ‘Gonzo needs to be arrested for this!’

  ‘There’s no hard proof it’s him,’ said Big T. ‘Besides, while unauthorized telephone tapping is illegal, bugs and covert cameras fall into a grey area of the law.’ He snapped the SIM card in half, then crushed the fake remote in his beefy fist. ‘That’s one less bug to worry about. Just a damn shame we can’t do the same to the shutterbugs outside.’

  Completing their surveillance sweep, they confirmed the suite was now clean.

  ‘Are you absolutely certain?’ asked Ash, still freaked out by the discovery. ‘I don’t want strangers listening to my every word.’

  Big T nodded, then glanced at his watch. ‘You’d better freshen yourself up, superstar. We leave for the venue in an hour. Don’t worry, your privacy is secure and I’ll post someone outside your door.’

  Charley returned to her own room, shed her damp clothes and jumped into a hot shower. As the water ran down her back and warmed her, she thought about the mysterious porter. Had Gonzo been responsible? Or was someone more sinister involved? It had been a bold tactic to impersonate a hotel employee and enter Ash’s room. Why were they so determined to spy on Ash? Was it purely to listen in and get a news scoop, or had they a more dangerous motive in mind? There were too many questions and Charley had no answers. But she did have one idea.

  Charley dried herself, then clambered into bed and managed to snatch half an hour’s rest before they left. On waking, she hunted through her Go-bag for what she needed, then joined Vince outside Ash’s suite. As the two of them waited for Ash to make his appearance, she casually leant against the door frame and fitted one of the Intruder devices Amir had given her. Positioned at knee height, the pill-sized white sensor was barely visible against the white paint.

  If anyone tried to enter Ash’s room while they were away, she’d be the first to know about it.

  ‘Awesome gig!’ Jessie gushed as Ash came offstage following his second encore at the Miami arena. ‘I especially liked the moment when you pulled that girl from the audience. She almost fainted in your arms.’

  Jessie gazed longingly at her idol, clearly wishing she’d been that girl. Charley didn’t blame her. Almost every girl in the arena must have wanted to be serenaded in Ash’s arms like that.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ash, swigging from a water bottle. ‘What did you think, Charley?’

  ‘Probably your best gig yet,’ she agreed, though she knew from the sudden burst of radio chatter on her earpiece that the unplanned invitation of the fan on to the stage had thrown the security team into a minor panic.

  As the road crew set to work packing away the instruments and dismantling the stage, Big T escorted Ash to his dressing room. Charley followed close behind and stationed herself outside his door. Once Ash had showered and changed, they prepared to leave the venue.

  ‘OK, scrum time!’ Big T announced, then opened the stage doors.

  Outside, hundreds upon hundreds of fans were packed like cattle behind metal barriers. They shrieked in ecstasy when Ash emerged, the noise louder than a dozen funfairs. Charley stayed close with Big T, her eyes scanning the crowd as Ash worked his way along the line signing the fans’ programmes and smiling for countless selfies.

  By now Charley was accustomed to the deafening screams and crazed antics of Wildling fans. But the task of protecting Ash in that ear-splitting chaos had not become any easier with so many new faces. And everyone had the potential to be the maniac who’d promised Ash no more encores.

  A pack of photographers, including Gonzo, vaulted the barriers and rushed towards them. They scuttled round the rock star with their cameras clicking and flashing, a constant strobe of white lightning. As the pack pushed and shoved for prime position, a telephoto lens hit Ash in the head.

  ‘Ow! Watch it,’ he cried as his baseball cap went flying.

  ‘Keep back!’ Big T growled, using his bulk to shift the cameramen out of their way.

  A loud metallic clang caused Charley to turn on her heel. A barrier had toppled over and the fans spilled on to the walkway, all madly trying to get their hands on Ash’s lost cap. And when the rest of the barriers collapsed hordes more fans surged forward.

  ‘Time to make like a shepherd and get the flock outta here!’ said Big T, his voice harsh in the security team’s earpieces.

  The PES team closed ranks and spearheaded Ash through the crowd towards the waiting SUV. But with every step the crush of fans grew greater and the determination of the paparazzi intensified.

  ‘Ash, look this way!’ called a photographer, half-blinding him with a blaze of flash shots.

  Ash shielded his eyes and kept his head down.

  ‘Running scared of your fans?’ taunted another pap.

  Gonzo bobbed up, his finger pressed on auto-shoot. ‘Any more accidents?’

  Ash glared at the rat-faced photographer. ‘Stop bugging me!’ he cried, flinging his water bottle at the man. The bottle struck the telephoto lens, spraying water everywhere. Paparazzi cameras flashed, capturing the moment.

  ‘Hey! That’s assault!’ snarled Gonzo, unable to suppress his triumph at antagonizing the rock star. ‘That’s assault with a weapon!’

  ‘You’re having a laugh, Gonzo,’ said Big T. ‘Ash was being nice. Thought you could do with a drink.’

  ‘I’ll sue you for damages, Ash!’ Gonzo shouted, ignoring the bodyguard.

  Big T blocked the pap’s path, then bent down to his ear level. ‘And I’ll have you arrested for trespassing and illegal bugging,’ he hissed.

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ snapped Gonzo, waving his camera in Big T’s face. ‘Look at this. It’s ruined. Are you gonna pay for it?’

&nbs
p; The bodyguard laughed. ‘Hope you’ve got insurance!’

  Big T and his team fended off Gonzo and the rest of the paparazzi, insults flying thick and fast, while Charley continued to escort Ash towards the SUV. But more and more fans pressed in, slowing their progress to a crawl.

  Charley’s mobile pinged and vibrated. Her first thought was the Intruder. Had it caught someone sneaking into Ash’s suite? Despite the crush she managed to slip the phone from her pocket and glance at the screen.

  But it was just a text message from Blake.

  Too busy with Ash to call?

  Charley swore under her breath. She’d forgotten to phone him back! And no kiss. That didn’t bode well. But she was in no position to reply to him now.

  When Charley looked up, a tall Hispanic lad had blocked Ash’s path. With a cut-off T-shirt and gold chain, a buzz haircut and shadow of a moustache, the boy didn’t look the typical Ash Wild fan.

  ‘You were eyeing up my girl,’ he accused.

  Ash looked perplexed. ‘Sorry, was I?’

  The lad nodded. ‘Pulled her on stage. No one touches my girl, you pumped-up little popster!’

  Without warning, the jealous boyfriend launched a fist at Ash’s face. Ash stared at the approaching knuckles, frozen like a rabbit in headlights. A millisecond before the fist struck its target, Charley shoved Ash aside and deflected the punch with her forearm.

  The lad glared at her. ‘Out of my way!’

  As he tussled with her, he attempted to throw another wild punch at Ash. Left with no choice, Charley palm-struck him in the face. There was a crunch of bone and a spurt of blood as his nose broke under the impact. The boy staggered backwards to the horrified squeals of the fans and the inevitable flash of the paps’ cameras.

  Stun then run, thought Charley.

  ‘Come on!’ she said, hustling a shocked Ash into the SUV before speeding away.

  WILD CAT!

  FAN LASHES OUT

  TO SAVE ROCK STAR

  Many pop idols inspire devotion from their fans, but the followers of teen sensation Ash Wild take their duties to the max. When the English rock star was allegedly attacked by Miami resident Carlos Sanchez, 16, following a sell-out gig, a mystery blonde stepped to his defence.

  Emma Hills, 15, saw the whole incident. ‘The girl came out of nowhere. She was like a ninja. Before you knew it, the boy was on the ground, crying about his nose being broken.’

  Carlos Sanchez insists, ‘I was the victim of a misunderstanding. The girl just lashed out at me.’

  But several eyewitnesses state that Carlos threw the first punch. According to Kelly Jackson, 14, ‘He was jealous that his girlfriend had been on stage with Ash and the idiot thought he was making a move on her. He went to punch Ash, but this girl stopped him. Never mess with a Wildling, that’s what I say!’

  The blonde who’d come to Ash’s rescue was seen disappearing into a vehicle with the grateful rock star. CelebrityStarz.net has attempted to contact Ash Wild’s management about the incident, but they’ve so far declined to comment.

  Who is the mysterious Wild Cat? And will she make another appearance?

  A picture of Charley in mid-strike accompanied the feature. It didn’t show her face completely, her hair getting in the way, but it did illustrate the devastating impact of her palm strike. The boy’s head was rocked back like a PEZ sweet dispenser, with blood flying from his nose. The surrounding witnesses all wore stunned expressions, in particular Ash, who was staring at her in open-mouthed astonishment.

  More pictures and amateur video clips capturing the moment followed the article posted on the celebrity news site. The internet was literally exploding with the story and #WildCat was topping the social media trends. Charley couldn’t have drawn any more attention to herself if she’d tried.

  As she sat alone in the rear lounge of the tour bus on its way towards their next destination, her phone rang.

  ‘Charley, it’s Colonel Black,’ spoke the terse voice.

  She closed her eyes and braced herself for the reprimand. ‘You’ve seen the coverage then?’

  ‘Hard not to miss,’ said the colonel. ‘You’ve done exactly what Steve warned you not to – get your face splashed all across the tabloid news! Need I remind you that any self-defence must be necessary, reasonable and proportional? That boy could have you arrested for assault.’

  ‘But he attacked first,’ protested Charley.

  ‘That may be the case. But there’s a fine line between acting in self-defence and breaking the law. What is deemed “reasonable” in the eyes of the law is a matter of opinion. You must be seen to use the minimum force necessary. Busting a guy’s nose with a palm strike is not the most subtle response.’

  ‘At least I didn’t punch him,’ she responded tartly.

  ‘I appreciate that you did what you considered necessary to protect Ash, but your actions have not only reflected badly on his public image, they’ve threatened to expose the whole Buddyguard organization. In future, I expect your responses to be low profile.’

  ‘Yes, Colonel,’ she muttered before signing off.

  Charley put down the phone and held her head in her hands. She couldn’t believe the colonel’s reaction. What was she supposed to have done – sweet-talk the guy?

  ‘Hey, Charley, don’t sweat it,’ said Big T, lumbering into the lounge. ‘The colonel wasn’t in your shoes at the time. He didn’t have to make the snap decision that you did. Besides, the boy isn’t pressing charges. Too many witnesses saw him strike first. And he’s too ashamed to admit a girl decked him!’

  Charley sighed. ‘But I’ve blown my cover.’

  ‘No, you haven’t. Everyone thinks you’re just a fan. But you did step up to the plate. And that’s what counts. I despise people who talk the talk, then bottle out when the time comes. You learn who’s who in your own journey of life. And you’re the real deal.’

  Charley was surprised and heartened by his support. ‘But the colonel’s right,’ she admitted. ‘I should have put him in an armlock, stunned him, anything but hit him in the face in front of the press.’

  ‘You reacted on instinct. There wasn’t time to think. If you had, Ash would have suffered a painful and embarrassing attack – one that could have damaged his rock-star looks permanently. That would have been a lot worse for his public image.’

  Big T pulled back the sleeve of his T-shirt and flexed the massive bicep of his right arm. A tattoo of a cruise missile bulged on his weathered skin. The words DANGER: WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION were etched inside the body of the missile.

  ‘In my days as a bouncer, my right hook ended many arguments,’ he explained. ‘At one stage, this arm was so legendary people called it TNT. I only ever needed to land one punch in a fight.’

  He unflexed his arm and rolled down the sleeve.

  ‘But, over the years of facing violence, I’ve learnt that size means nothing and that your voice is the greatest weapon. It can control a situation, it can calm a person down or it can incite a riot. You can throw an opponent off-guard by speaking softly. Your voice can charm and persuade, threaten or placate. It’s the solution to most problems we face as bodyguards. Only bring out the big guns as a last resort –’ he cracked a smile – ‘like you did.’

  ‘They’re still following us!’ said Charley as their blacked-out SUV raced through the streets of downtown New Orleans. They’d barely made it to their vehicle following the packed-out concert at the Supe
rdome. Some eighty-five thousand fans had crammed in to see Ash perform and seemingly almost as many had waited to catch a glimpse of him leaving with the now-infamous ‘Wild Cat’.

  ‘Can’t you go any faster?’ asked Ash, peering through the rear window at the eleven cars, three scooters and two motorbikes that pursued them.

  ‘I have to obey the speed limit,’ replied Shane, their driver, gritting his teeth in concentration.

  ‘They’re not!’

  From the front passenger seat, Big T eyed their pursuers in the wing mirror. ‘Paparazzi pay no regard to road rules.’

  As if to confirm this, a rented SUV sped up the wrong side of the street as the cameraman jockeyed with the other pap vehicles for the best position. A car coming the opposite way blared its horn and the cameraman swerved at the last second to avoid a head-on collision.

  ‘Isn’t this how Princess Diana died?’ exclaimed Ash, clinging to his seat as their SUV rounded a corner at speed.

  ‘Buckle up and you’ll be fine,’ Big T told him.

  Behind, the paparazzi motorcade scrambled to follow them – overtaking and undertaking, speeding and blocking one another, taking whatever steps would keep them close.

  Coming to a stop at a junction, their SUV was swamped by vehicles and was almost boxed in. Photographers leant out of their windows and filmed and photographed whatever they could. The lights changed. Shane forced his way through the blockade and the chase resumed.

  Ash sighed. ‘Don’t they ever give up?’

  ‘They’re like vampires,’ grunted Big T. ‘Whatever they get is never enough.’

  Their SUV passed through a junction just as the traffic lights turned red. Behind them car horns blared and there was a screeching of tyres. As the convoy of paparazzi ran the red light, two vehicles collided, blocking the junction.