Bodyguard: Target

by Chris Bradford

  But this message didn’t feel like a joke, not with the threats made against Ash. Could the maniac trying to kill Ash now want her dead by association? That was a distinct possibility.

  Charley figured whoever had written the message wanted to frighten her. Why else give a warning first?

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Ash, his jaw dropping open in shock.

  ‘What?’ said Charley, suddenly on high alert.

  ‘It’s Hanna.’

  A gorgeous teenage girl with dark brown locks was parading in a show-stopping bejewelled silver dress. As she approached the end of the catwalk, she spied Ash. There was a momentary flare of recognition in her eyes, then she pirouetted away and strode back down the stage.

  Ash spent the rest of the show squirming in his seat every time his ex-girlfriend appeared. The model seemed to be purposefully strutting in front of him as if to show him exactly what he’d lost.

  After the show, the guests mingled and chatted, the stunning designs a focus of most conversations. As Ash and Charley did the rounds, Hanna made her appearance. She now wore hipster jeans and a cropped white bodice-top that accentuated her toned body, her glossy hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and with only the lightest touch of make-up her natural beauty was stunningly apparent. Charley instantly felt out of her league.

  But Hanna’s attitude certainly didn’t match her looks. ‘So, you’re into blondes now? I thought it was redheads,’ the model said cuttingly to her ex-boyfriend.

  Ash gave a pained look. ‘Hanna, I’ve said I’m sorry. Many times.’

  Hanna looked down her nose at Charley. ‘I’d be careful if I were you. You’re playing with fire.’

  Charley responded with a civil smile. ‘I’m used to getting my fingers burnt,’ she replied.

  ‘Well, as long as you’ve got your eyes wide open. This boy is a player and he’ll break your heart.’

  ‘Hey, I’m still here,’ said Ash, mortified by her scathing comments.

  ‘More’s the pity,’ said Hanna, turning on her heel and sashaying away.

  Ash stared after her, a wounded look on his face.

  ‘She doesn’t like you very much, does she?’ remarked Charley.

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t blame her. I made a stupid mistake. Let’s go. This party’s lost its appeal.’

  Charley followed Ash back into the lobby, Big T falling in behind. As they exited the hotel, the line of cameramen beckoned for a photo, but Ash wasn’t in the mood to play the gracious rock star. He headed straight for the limo.

  Then Gonzo heckled. ‘Hasn’t Hanna forgiven you?’

  Ash shot him a ferocious glare.

  ‘I’ve still got the picture I took of you and that redhead,’ goaded Gonzo, snapping away at Ash’s scowl. ‘That was a real money shot. Care to repeat your performance?’

  Charley saw Ash flush with anger and turn on Gonzo. Before he could launch himself at the lowlife, Charley pulled Ash back and bundled him into the limo.

  ‘What about this one?’ asked Ash, pointing to a solid gold Rolex in the jewellery store’s display case.

  ‘Very nice,’ said Charley. But she barely gave the watch a second glance. Her senses were on full alert. She was convinced someone was following them.

  They were browsing in the Grand Canal Shoppes mall inside the Palazzo Hotel. A mini-indoor Venice, it boasted high-end designer shops, upscale boutiques and even water-filled canals complete with gondolas to take people around the mall.

  Pete had once again led the paparazzi on a wild goose chase, allowing Ash and Charley to slip away unseen. Ash had admitted he was feeling a little low and Kay had recommended some retail therapy before his gig that evening. At first Charley had thought Ash’s mood was to do with bumping into his ex-girlfriend, then she recalled the day’s date from the operation folder. It was the anniversary of his mother’s death.

  As Ash continued to browse the rows of designer watches, Charley studied the reflection in the plate glass of the store window. Applying her anti-surveillance training, she was looking for multiple sightings and any sign of unnatural behaviour among the passing shoppers: people peeping round corners, fidgeting or acting shifty, showing a vacant expression, talking to themselves or fixated on their target.

  A steady stream of tourists and shoppers ambled by. Some loitered, others browsed, a few took holiday snaps by the mock canals. But there weren’t any faces Charley recognized and no individual stood out from the crowd.

  Yet her gut told her someone was out there, watching, waiting, preying on them.

  ‘Have you seen these bracelets, Charley?’ said Ash, beckoning her into the adjacent store.

  The shop assistant welcomed them and laid out a selection of silver and gold designs. Ash ran his gaze over them, then turned to Charley. ‘Which one do you like the best?’ he asked.

  Charley took a moment from her surveillance to have a quick glance. Her eyes were instantly drawn to a simple bracelet woven from three bands of white gold. ‘That one’s beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll get it for you,’ said Ash, pulling out his wallet.

  ‘But it’s five thousand dollars!’ protested Charley.

  He smiled at her. ‘So? You’re worth it.’

  Charley put her hand over his wallet. ‘Listen, it’s very sweet of you, Ash. But I can’t accept it.’

  Ash ignored her, handed the shop assistant his debit card and looped the white-gold bracelet around Charley’s wrist. ‘A thank-you gift,’ he said. ‘For saving my life.’

  As she admired the exquisite piece of jewellery, wondering how she could refuse now, Charley heard the faintest click of a camera.

  ‘It’ll be an engagement ring next,’ said a snide voice.

  At once she knew who’d been following them. Charley couldn’t believe it. Was there no place Gonzo couldn’t find them? Hounded at every turn, tormented at every moment, she was truly experiencing the claustrophobic nightmare of being a celebrity in the twenty-first century – no privacy, no boundaries, no escape.

  Gonzo was their very own stalker.

  ‘Go crawl back into whatever sewer you came from!’ Ash snapped.

  ‘That’s no way to treat a friend,’ replied the pap.

  ‘Friend? Even my worst enemy is more of a friend than you.’

  ‘Harsh, but you’ve got a lot of enemies from what I hear.’

  Fuming, Ash stormed out of the store.

  ‘Just leave us alone, Gonzo,’ said Charley, struggling to keep the anger out of her voice.

  But Gonzo stalked them through the shopping mall, snapping and filming away non-stop. Each time they entered a store, he’d wait outside, his lens tracking their every movement.

  ‘I’ll have you arrested,’ Charley threatened as they came out of a boutique.

  ‘I know my rights. I’m on public property – nothing you can do about it.’

  Charley felt her fury rising with the man. Even while they had lunch, his camera recorded their every mouthful. They visited a designer clothes store. When they came out, they passed a florist and Gonzo goaded Ash once again. ‘How about a bouquet for your girlfriend? And don’t forget … one for your mother! Lilies are a good choice.’

  Charley noticed Ash’s eyes redden and his fists clench. Gonzo had taken it too far, even for a paparazzi. Charley felt something snap inside her too. What right did this piece of scum have to stalk and harass them? What right did he have to bring up Ash’s dead mother? What right did he have to bait people purely for t
he purposes of a ‘unique’ photo he could sell for thousands?

  Charley reached into her bag and pulled out a small canister. Before Gonzo knew what was happening, she sprayed his camera lens and face with red gel. Spluttering and swearing, Gonzo furiously tried to wipe the gunk from his eyes.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Charley. ‘It just went off in my hand by accident.’

  As Charley sauntered away with Ash, who was staring at her in stunned admiration, Gonzo yelled after them, ‘You’ll live to regret that, chica!’

  Charley woke to the insistent blare of her alarm clock. Surely it couldn’t be morning already? Often on this tour she was so exhausted that she lost track of time, with no idea what day it was, let alone which hotel she was sleeping in. After a while the bedrooms all looked the same. She vaguely recalled they’d reached San Francisco. The gig in Las Vegas had gone without a hitch, as had the ones in Salt Lake City and Seattle, and they were now entering the final phase of the tour. She only had to keep Ash safe a few more days, then the threat of ‘No more encores’ would be just that – an empty threat.

  Groggily, she reached over to switch off the clock. But the alarm continued to ring in her ears. Shrugging off sleep, she smelt the acrid tinge of smoke in the air. At once she sat bolt upright in bed.

  FIRE!

  Barefoot and in only her T-shirt and shorts, Charley grabbed Ash’s spare key card from the bedside table and sprinted for the door. Bugsy’s emergency fire training had drilled into her that every second counted in a fire. She tested the temperature of the door handle, then pressed the back of her hand to the door itself. Both were cool to the touch. Confident she wouldn’t stumble straight into a blaze, she opened the door and peered out.

  A noxious grey haze immediately enveloped her and she started coughing. The corridor was filled with smoke. Guests in all states of dress and undress were fleeing in panic, many with no idea where the nearest fire escapes were and running the wrong way. Jessie and Zoe flew past, along with other members of the road crew.

  ‘Have you seen Ash?’ Charley called out.

  ‘No!’ cried Zoe, not stopping as she disappeared into the haze of smoke.

  Pulling her T-shirt up to her mouth, Charley hammered on Ash’s door. No answer.

  She guessed that Big T had already evacuated him. But she couldn’t take that chance. Slotting the key card into the lock, she accessed his suite.

  ‘ASH?’ she called, hurrying through the lounge to the bedroom.

  A figure lay sprawled underneath the covers. Charley wondered how on earth Ash could sleep through the klaxon of the fire alarm. Then she spotted the in-ear noise-cancellation headphones.

  Charley shook Ash awake. ‘GET UP!’ she shouted.

  Ash blearily opened his eyes. ‘What! W-what’s going on?’

  ‘Fire!’ explained Charley as she dashed into the en suite bathroom and soaked a couple of hand towels. When she came back, Ash was busy gathering up his songbook, laptop and acoustic guitar. ‘Leave them! We don’t have time.’

  ‘My life ain’t worth living without my guitar,’ said Ash as he stuffed his songbook into his shorts.

  ‘If we don’t get out now, you won’t have a life, never mind a guitar!’ She grabbed his arm and hauled him to the door. She opened it a crack and smoke surged into the room. She slammed it shut.

  Ash looked to the balcony. ‘Why don’t we jump?’ he suggested.

  Charley gave a strained smile. ‘We could. But the pool’s on the other side.’

  She handed him a dripping wet towel. ‘Put this over your mouth and stay close.’

  Crouching low to the floor to avoid the worst of the smoke, she eased the door open and led Ash out. The corridor was now a darkening tunnel of grey-white fog. It was impossible to see more than a few feet. She could hear a few straggling guests coughing and spluttering, and in the far distance the howl of fire engines. From her security checks on arrival at the hotel, she knew the nearest fire exit was eight doors and one corridor down. Keeping a hand to the wall, she counted them off as they scurried like frightened mice along the carpet. Her eyes stung from the toxic smoke and she now appreciated how easily disorientated a person could get in a fire. There was no sense of distance or direction; everywhere was a murky grey cloud, furniture and figures appearing and disappearing like ghosts.

  After what seemed an age, they reached the fire door. She pushed against the locking bar, but it wouldn’t budge. Charley shoved harder. To no avail. Now she knew why the hotel guests had been fleeing in the other direction.

  ‘Let me … have a go,’ Ash coughed, taking the damp towel from his mouth.

  He kicked at the bar. Nothing. So he barged his shoulder against the door. This time it screeched open a fraction. A lick of flames shot out. Ash leapt back, yelling as the sleeve of his top caught alight. The flames rapidly spread across his back.

  On impulse Charley dragged him to the floor and rolled him on the carpet. At the same time, she smothered him with her body. She knew her T-shirt was fireproof and prayed she could put out the flames before Ash was seriously burnt.

  ‘I’m … all right,’ gasped Ash, his top singed black.

  But they were now in even more immediate danger. The corridor was on fire. Despite the door being open only a crack, it was enough for the blaze on the other side to finger its way in. Cursing herself for not checking the door first, she pulled Ash to his knees and headed back the other way. Having lost their wet towels, their lungs now filled with suffocating smoke. Coughing and choking, they crawled along the corridor. But in their hurry to escape the advancing flames Charley lost count of the doors. With no clue in which direction or how far the next fire exit was, the two of them stumbled on blindly.

  Ash was coughing uncontrollably and Charley’s head pounded and she felt sick. The flames would be the last of their worries. She knew from Bugsy that the majority of deaths in a fire were caused by smoke inhalation rather than burns. They had to escape the corridor and find clear air.

  Blinking away acrid tears, Charley reached out desperately in front of her. In the gloom, she discovered a door to a guest room had been left ajar. Pulling Ash inside, she kicked the door shut behind them. Smoke hung around the ceiling in a thick cloud and still seeped in round the frame. But it was a far better situation than the corridor. Leaving Ash hacking on the floor, she threw any towels that she could find into the bath and ran the taps. As soon as the towels were wet, she stuffed them against the edges of the door.

  ‘Charley! Look at this!’ croaked Ash, leaning out of the balcony window for fresh air.

  Six floors down, a huge crowd had gathered in the darkness. Fire engines, their lights flashing and reflecting off the other buildings, jammed the streets. The beam of a searchlight swept the hotel and illuminated the two of them in the window.

  Ash looked at Charley, his face streaked black with soot, and said, ‘Take a leap of faith?’

  With a final glance back at the smouldering door, Charley nodded and climbed over the balcony. Hand in hand, they jumped.

  ‘I hate to admit it,’ said Kay, shaking her head wearily as they breakfasted in the diner opposite the fire-damaged hotel, ‘but that makes a great picture!’

  She tapped the newspaper with a manicured fingernail. Below the headline – ‘Love Birds Flee Nest Fire’ – was a photo of Ash and Charley caught mid-plunge over the hotel pool, still clasping one another’s hands, the flaming building behind making a dramatic backdrop to their death-defying escape. Of course, Gonzo had been there to catch the mom
ent in all its glory, along with a handful of other shutterbugs in the city. But he had been the one to nab the front-page shot.

  ‘The headline’s predictably trashy, though,’ Kay went on, sipping from her coffee. Despite having been up most of the night, as had everyone else, she somehow managed to retain her elegant looks even in a hotel robe and slippers. Charley and Ash were wrapped in blankets, Big T in a white T-shirt and grey jogging bottoms and, much to the road crew’s amusement, Terry had fled the hotel in a pair of blue pyjamas embroidered with yellow teddy bears. Only Jessie had managed to escape the fire in any reasonable state of dress. She sat with Zoe at the next table in jeans, T-shirt and sneakers.

  ‘But, in all seriousness, either this tour is cursed with the worst bad luck or someone is seriously committed to killing Ash if they’re willing to burn down an entire hotel.’ Kay put a protective arm round her nephew and smiled at Charley. ‘If it wasn’t for you, Charley, my Ash wouldn’t be sitting here with us now having breakfast. You’re certainly proving your worth, young lady.’

  ‘Yeah, well done, Charley,’ said Big T, cupping a mug of coffee between his huge hands. ‘But next time … take the stairs.’ He forced a tired smile.

  Kay turned to Big T. ‘Might I ask where you were during all this? Because you certainly weren’t at Ash’s side.’

  Big T dropped his grin and responded with a defensive frown. ‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Ms Gibson. When the fire alarm woke me, I discovered Ash already gone from his room. So, after ensuring everyone else was out, I made my escape. I was the last of the crew to leave our floor.’

  A frosty look entered Kay’s green eyes. ‘Not quite the last, as it turned out. Ash was still up there!’

  ‘With Charley,’ he pointed out. ‘I knew she’d carried out the fire security check so was confident she’d get Ash to safety.’

  ‘Yes, and thank God she did!’ said Kay, turning her back on Big T.