Charley raced out on to the stage. She had no idea what had happened. Had a fan thrown something at Ash? Was it a heart attack? Had he been shot? Had the maniac promising ‘no more encores’ struck? Whatever the cause, her overriding instinct was to protect him from further harm – if he was still alive.
The whole arena had fallen into stunned and horrified silence as Ash lay motionless in a heap at the far end of the stage. For Charley, the guitar-shaped runway seemed to extend forever as she sprinted towards his inert body.
A technician reached Ash first. He took hold of Ash’s shoulder, then shuddered, jerked his hand away and fell backwards. In that instant Charley knew what was wrong. Ash had been electrocuted.
Picking up the fallen wooden stool, Charley shoved the lethal microphone away from Ash’s body. She checked for any other dangers, then knelt down beside Ash, praying he wasn’t dead. An electric shock with a strong enough current could stop the heart.
‘ASH!’ she called, but there was no response.
Confirming his airway was clear, she checked his breathing and circulation. His pulse was a little weak, though the fact he had a pulse was reassuring. The problem was … he wasn’t breathing.
This time Charley knew Ash wasn’t faking it.
Pinching his nose, she leant over him, covered his mouth with her lips and began CPR. She was vaguely aware of anxious tour crew and security gathering round her. The offending microphone was isolated and disconnected. A stretcher was brought down by two medics. The audience were softly whispering and weeping as they watched the scene play out. Still Charley kept up her rescue breaths, focusing on the task in hand and not letting panic control her emotions.
‘Charley, it’s Big T,’ said a voice in her ear. ‘The medics can take over.’
Charley shook her head and persisted with CPR. Ash was her responsibility. She would not let him die in her arms. She lost all track of time. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours that passed, but halfway through a set of rescue breaths Ash regained consciousness. His eyes flickered open and he took several breaths on his own.
‘Hey, Charley …’ he said, smiling. ‘Hope you’re not going to break my arm for this.’
‘No,’ she replied with a relieved smile, recalling her previous threat about if he ever tried kissing her again. ‘As you said, it’s worth the risk.’
One of the medics helped Ash sit up. Seeing their idol rise from the dead, the whole audience applauded and whooped.
‘OK, let’s get you to the hospital,’ said the medic.
‘Later,’ said Ash, waving off his help. ‘I’ve a gig to finish.’
‘But we need to do a thorough medical examination,’ insisted the medic.
‘I feel fine,’ declared Ash, standing up on his own. ‘If Dave Grohl can finish a tour with a broken leg, I can certainly perform after a little shock to the system.’
‘Little?’ queried the medic. ‘You were knocked unconscious and stopped breathing.’
‘That’s rock ’n’ roll for you!’ Ash laughed. ‘Besides, can’t you hear that?’
His legion of fans stamped their feet and chanted, ‘ASH! ASH! ASH!’
‘The show must go on,’ he said, grabbing a wireless mic.
Charley thought Ash was a little high on adrenalin, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. It was nothing short of a miracle. Ash took hold of Charley’s hand and raised it to the sky.
‘Talk about the kiss of life,’ he announced to loud wolf whistles and rapturous applause. ‘My guardian angel!’
Charley closed the door to her hotel room and collapsed on the bed. It was gone midnight and she was exhausted. But she had to report in to Buddyguard. They’d want an update on the situation.
Her finger paused over the dial button. She still hadn’t spoken with Blake. Since she was using the official Buddyguard line, though, he’d have to answer her call now. Both dreading and needing to talk to him, Charley took a deep breath and dialled.
The phone rang three times before it was picked up and a voice answered. ‘Report in.’
She hesitated. ‘W-where’s Blake?’
‘He’s been reassigned,’ Jason explained. ‘I’m now your official contact.’
‘Oh …’ said Charley, disappointed yet somewhat relieved that she wouldn’t have to speak to Blake.
‘Don’t sound so pleased to hear my voice,’ said Jason. ‘I’m equally happy to be working with you. Now, are you going to update me on your Principal or not?’
‘Sorry,’ Charley replied, a little thrown by the change in contact. She felt awkward talking with Jason when they didn’t exactly get on. ‘Well … according to the doctor, Ash is fighting fit. After finally being convinced to take a ten-minute break for a medical check-up, he finished the gig to a standing ovation.’ She half-smiled at the thought, still in awe of Ash’s dedication to his fans. ‘But he was extremely lucky to survive – that direct shock to the head could have fried his brain.’
‘I’ve seen some of the fan footage online,’ said Jason. ‘Looks like he was shot by a stun gun. Any idea what went wrong?’
‘Faulty microphone,’ Charley replied. ‘The sound technician says the wiring wasn’t earthed properly. Terry – the tour manager – is furious. He’s got the whole tech team retesting all the electrics before the next concert. He says these things shouldn’t happen.’
‘Well, it did,’ said Jason. ‘Kay just called the colonel to praise your fast response. She credits you with saving Ash’s life.’
Charley felt a flush of pride.
‘Kay’s also reviewing all security measures with Big T,’ Jason went on, ‘so don’t be surprised if there’s a bit of a shake-up in the ranks. She wasn’t happy with the rest of his team’s response to the situation, so she’s flying out to join the tour to keep a closer eye on things.’
‘Big T did mention Kay was concerned.’
‘Well, Ash does seem prone to accidents on this tour,’ remarked Jason.
‘Accidents don’t just happen,’ said Charley, repeating the sinister message that had popped up on Ash’s computer.
‘What? You think this was another attempt on Ash’s life?’
‘Yes.’
‘But isn’t using a microphone to kill someone rather hit-and-miss?’ Jason wondered. ‘Anyone could have used that mic before Ash. A roadie during the sound check or one of the band in the show.’
‘True. But the night before the concert Ash showed me his social media feed. There was a whole bunch of posts from haters, but one, apparently from a fan, read, “Hoping for an electrifying performance!” That’s too much of a coincidence for me. Someone wants Ash dead and they’re going to great lengths to make it look like an accident.’
Jason went quiet for a moment. ‘Then the question is, who is this fan?’
‘Exactly. If we could trace the two online messages, and any others sent by the same accounts, then we might identify the user. I know Big T didn’t get anywhere with the first message, but perhaps Bugsy has access to higher-level resources?’
‘Bugsy’s away on an assignment for the colonel,’ informed Jason, ‘but I’ll ask that newbie Amir if he can help. I hear he’s something of a whizz with computers.’
‘Thanks,’ said Charley, surprised at how willing Jason was to help. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to work with him after all. ‘I’ll email you the links now.’
She pulled up Ash’s social media page on her phone and searched for the two suspect messages. With a couple of tap
s, she forwarded them to Jason.
‘Got ’em,’ said Jason. ‘Anything else before we sign off?’
Charley hesitated. ‘Jason … can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry. Jason was the last person she wanted to discuss this with, but she had to know. ‘Is Blake seeing someone else?’
There was a long pause. ‘Forget about Blake, Charley. You’re better off without him,’ he replied. ‘You need to focus on the mission.’
Charley felt her eyes prickle with tears. It was obvious Blake had cheated on her. Stifling a sob, she went into the bathroom and grabbed a tissue from the box next to the washbasin.
‘Besides, you’re the girlfriend of a famous rock star now!’ Jason went on. ‘Not a bad swap for you. I mean, how much better could it get?’
Dabbing at her eyes, Charley looked up from the basin and let out a small cry.
‘You all right?’ he asked, finally aware she was upset.
‘Yeah, everything’s fine,’ replied Charley in a voice as calm as she could manage. She hadn’t cried out because of Blake. On the bathroom mirror, scrawled in her own red lipstick, were the words:
TO BE AN ANGEL
U NEED 2 DIE FIRST!
Ash Wild must have the nine lives of a cat! How else could that snivelling, screeching pop prince defy death twice? It’s beyond belief. That boy deserves to die. Has to die. Must die.
I should have shot him that first night. Why the hell didn’t I pull the trigger?
I might have missed, that’s why … Don’t be stupid, you had him in your laser sight. The man at the gun store said it was just a matter of point and shoot … Wherever the red dot was, the bullet would go. So why didn’t I pull the trigger?
Just admit it! You didn’t have the guts, did you?
No.
The gun was too personal, too hands-on. And too risky. The police would easily have traced the bullets and gun. Besides, that blonde bitch Charley interfered. Ran Ash off the stage before I could change my mind and fire. It’s her fault.
That’s why an accidental death is a far better idea. No one can foresee it. No one can stop it.
The spotlight took a lot of planning, though – the exact positioning of the light, the removal of the safety chain, the sabotaging of the clamp, the precise timing of the fall – every detail had to be accounted for. Then the little ego-fuelled superstar lands in the wrong bloody place!
How unfair is that? Only a few centimetres between life and death.
Ash certainly had a guardian angel watching over him then.
At least the microphone was easier to tamper with. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that in the first place. The only tricky part was ensuring Ash would be the victim.
But the plan worked – like a dream.
Oh, the thrill! The sheer joy when Ash dropped dead!
Then that blonde bitch again, the Wild Cat. She brought him back to life.
It was her fault, his guardian angel. Yeah, all her fault!
Next time … I’ll guarantee she can’t save her precious rock star.
Next time … he won’t rise from the ashes. Nor will she.
‘If you’re my girlfriend, you should really be holding my hand,’ said Ash as the two of them arrived in a stretch limo outside the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas.
Since Dallas, the tour had taken them to Kansas City, then through Minneapolis and Denver to the entertainment capital of the world. With a day off between gigs, his manager had acquired VIP invites for Ash to attend an exclusive star-studded fashion show before his concert the next night at the Mandalay Bay Events Center – and it would be Ash and Charley’s first official appearance as a couple.
Ash offered his hand. He seemed totally at ease with the arrangement made by his manager and Colonel Black – in fact he looked proud to have her on his arm. Considering Ash could have almost any girl he wanted, Charley felt flattered by this. She took his hand, telling herself it was purely to keep up appearances. But after the messy break-up with Blake and the deluge of hate messages online she couldn’t deny it was a much-needed boost to her battered self-esteem.
He smiled, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then stepped out into a blaze of camera flashes.
The press were out in full force. The fashion show was a focal point for all the celebrities in Las Vegas and a long red carpet had been laid for their arrival. Ash was requested by an event marshal to stop halfway along for the official photo op. Dressed in a black silk shirt, jacket and coal-black designer jeans, he looked the epitome of the teen rock star. Charley, in a sleek satin gown and high heels that Ash’s stylist had picked out for her, caught everyone’s eye, more than fulfilling her role as the chic glamorous girlfriend. The cameras simply couldn’t get enough of the hip young couple.
As they posed for photos, Charley kept her designer sunglasses on. She couldn’t risk getting dazzled by all the flashes. She may have become Ash’s ‘girlfriend’, but she was still his bodyguard. Her eyes scanned the huddle of photographers and, to her dismay, spotted Gonzo’s rat-face among the pack. How on earth had the lowlife got an official press pass?
Still smiling for the cameras, Charley surveyed the crush of tourists and fans behind the metal barriers, checking for signs of a potential threat – those directed not only at Ash but also at herself.
For she was now a target too.
That had been made abundantly clear by the sinister threat left on her bathroom mirror. After taking a picture for evidence, she’d wiped away the lipstick-smeared message and hadn’t mentioned it to anyone for fear of being pulled off the assignment. If she couldn’t protect herself, then how could she be considered fit to protect Ash?
As more celebrities spilled out of limos to make their way up the red carpet, Big T came up alongside and indicated they should enter the hotel. Accompanying them, he kept at a respectful but responsive distance, his massive bulk a high-profile deterrent to any troublemakers. They entered the famous Bellagio lobby, its ceiling adorned with two thousand handblown glass flowers, the display suspended over their heads like a glistening rainbow. Ushered through to the ballroom, Charley found herself among a menagerie of movie stars, musicians, TV personalities and supermodels – many of them drawn to Ash and keen to meet his new girlfriend.
‘Hey, Ash, how ya doing?’ drawled an impossibly handsome and instantly recognizable figure.
‘Hi, Kyle, good to see you again,’ said Ash, embracing the movie icon like an old friend.
‘And this must be Charley, your guardian angel.’ Kyle lifted the back of her hand to his lips. ‘Definitely an angel.’
For a moment Charley was speechless. She was glad of the drink offered to her by a bow-tied waiter – it gave her a chance to compose herself. ‘Thank you … I’m sure everyone says this, but I love your films. No one does action movies like you.’
‘Hey, I only act the hero,’ he said humbly. ‘You’re the real action hero.’
He did a couple of karate punches. ‘I saw those photos from Miami. You were like Bruce Lee with that palm strike! Ash, I’m surprised you even need Big T any more,’ he said, glancing at the bald-headed veteran behind. ‘You should just hire Charley to be your bodyguard.’
Ash laughed. ‘It had crossed my mind.’
Charley gave a small smile, but Big T’s jaw clenched and he clearly didn’t appreciate the joke.
They circulated among the other guests, Ash introducing Charle
y to more A-list celebrities than she ever dreamt possible. The glamorous side of his superstar life was intoxicating and she had to keep reminding herself that she wasn’t there for her own enjoyment but for Ash’s protection.
At last the guests were called for the start of the show. With reserved seats in the front row, she and Ash were in prime position next to the catwalk. But no place was reserved for Big T and he was relegated to the ballroom entrance. The house lights dimmed and a thumping dance track blasted out of the speakers. Spotlights lit up the runway stage and a long-legged model glided out from the wings. Wearing only a gossamer-thin dress that shimmered like moonlight, she was greeted by collective gasps of delight and wonder. Another model appeared and strutted down the catwalk in an equally breathtaking design, her off-the-shoulder kimono-inspired gown seeming to have been spun from spider silk.
The ballroom was abuzz as ever more cutting-edge fashions were paraded in front of the celebrity audience. But Charley paid little attention to the clothes and the models. Her mind was too distracted. It kept returning to the ominous message on the mirror.
TO BE AN ANGEL
U NEED 2 DIE FIRST!
The key question was: who had written it?
A jealous fan? With a hurricane of abuse online for being Ash’s girlfriend, that was a strong possibility. She’d have to keep tabs on any repeat haters to see if there was a link. But how had the fan accessed her locked hotel room?
This made her think it could be one of the band. If it was, perhaps the death threat was just a tour prank? She’d witnessed the guys playing some pretty cruel jokes on one another. Everything from cling film on the toilet and duct-taping their belongings to the hotel ceiling, to swapping shampoo for hair-removal cream.
Bodyguard: Target Page 23
