‘IMEI number?’ asked Charley, bewildered by Amir’s technical lingo.
‘IMEI stands for International Mobile-station Equipment Identity number. You can easily find out your own phone’s IMEI by typing *#06# into your keypad. The number is used to identify any device that uses terrestrial cellular networks. By that, I mean non-satellite communication. Each number is unique to its device and coded into the hardware, making it virtually impossible to change.’
‘That’s all very informative, Amir, but how does any of that help me?’
‘It means the device can be tracked!’ said Amir, a broad smile evident in the tone of his voice.
Charley smiled too. She eyed Jessie. She had her now!
‘Since the suspect is using prepaid SIM cards, we obviously don’t know who the phone belongs to,’ continued Amir. ‘But I managed to hack the network carrier and source the current mobile phone number associated with our suspect’s IMEI number. I’m texting you both of them now.’
Charley’s phone beeped with a received message.
‘I’m also updating your phone remotely with a tracker device,’ Amir explained. ‘It’s a program I’ve designed. It’ll take a minute or so to upload, but then you’ll be able to pinpoint the suspect’s phone to within two or three metres –’
‘Charley!’ cut in Big T, his wrinkled face hard and unforgiving as granite. ‘We need to talk about this threat now. And I think we can let Jessie go, don’t you? There’s nothing credible linking her to the accidents, apart from your rather tenuous speculation.’
‘Guilty until proven innocent,’ Charley reminded him, pointing to the tattoo on his arm. She waved her mobile in the air. ‘I’ve got the proof we need right here.’
Turning to Jessie, she ordered, ‘Give me your phone.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do it.’ Charley snatched the mobile from Jessie’s hand and typed in *#06# to reveal its unique IMEI number. She compared it with the one on her screen, confident of exactly what she’d find.
It didn’t match.
Charley checked it again and an awful sick feeling weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach.
Wishing the ground would swallow her up, she handed back Jessie’s mobile. ‘I’m sorry … I’ve made a mistake.’
‘You most certainly have!’ snapped Jessie, shooting her evils, before stomping out of the dressing room.
Big T let out a heavy sigh and shook his head in disappointment. ‘Charley, we’ve some serious talking to do.’
In her despondent daze, Charley heard Amir’s voice drifting up from her phone. ‘Hey, Charley, are you still there? The tracker app should be working now. The green dot is you. The red dot is your suspect.’
Charley studied the screen. A map of the venue was displayed. The app correctly located her in the dressing room.
A red dot appeared right next to the stage.
How could she have been so stupid! She’d made the wrong assumption. Jessie wasn’t Ash’s stalker. Barging past Big T, Charley ran for the door.
‘Where are you going?’ shouted Big T.
‘It’s Pete!’ Charley cried, dodging Vince’s attempt to grab her and sprinting down the corridor.
At this very moment the killer had been left all alone and unguarded. Charley wasn’t there. Nor were Vince, Rick or Big T. Ash was completely vulnerable to an attack … and she was responsible.
Shouldering a roadie aside, she rounded a corner at speed and dashed down the hallway that led to the stage. The sound of twenty thousand fans screaming echoed off the walls. Her heart was pounding in her chest almost as loud as the heavy bass thud blasting from the venue’s speakers.
She’d always suspected Pete. Why hadn’t she listened to her gut instincts? Yes, Jessie was the obvious and logical candidate for the infatuated stalker. But Pete was the deluded and dangerous one. His copycat behaviour was a clear sign of his mental instability. What sane person would imitate their idol to the point of changing their appearance entirely and getting the exact same tattoo on their arm?
It only struck Charley now that her death threats had started right after Pete had joined the tour in his semi-official capacity as a decoy. With his ability to pass off as Ash, he could have easily accessed her room without question from security, especially since she and Ash were perceived to be an item. Similarly, Pete had the golden opportunity to wander around backstage without anyone so much as batting an eyelid. He was Ash the rock star! He could go anywhere he wanted. Not only could he have swapped the mics, but Pete was likely the one who’d started the fire at the hotel.
And at any moment Pete could strike again.
Charley ran up the steps to the wings of the stage. In the dimly lit recesses, a couple of sound technicians were prepping gear and a small group of VIP guests huddled to one side watching the show. But where was Pete?
Charley hunted around for him. He was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he’d moved over to the opposite wing? She checked Amir’s tracker app. Her green dot was now situated beside the stage; the red dot was on the stage.
She was too late!
Elbowing her way through a knot of VIPs, she ran on to the main stage. The music was thunderous. The spotlights were blinding and she had to shield her eyes as she looked for Pete. Was he among the dancers? The band? The front row? Or already attacking Ash?
The dancers were moving at such a frenetic pace it was hard to keep track of everyone. Ash was strutting down the stage’s guitar neck, singing for all he was worth to the audience, lost in the zone. But Pete wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She rechecked the tracker app. The red dot definitely located him on the stage, less than fifteen metres from where she stood. Maybe Amir’s app didn’t work after all.
‘Get off the stage!’ hissed a beer-bellied roadie, yanking Charley by the arm.
As she was dragged back into the wings, she happened to glance up and notice the lighting rig. Of course, the app only displayed a two-dimensional map. Pete could be right above her. Squinting her eyes, she searched the rig. It was difficult to make out much against the multiple banks of flashing lights, but she could see the spotlight operators in their suspended chairs, tracking Ash with their focus beams. If Pete was up there, they’d surely know about it and have radioed security by now. All the wire-rope ladders had been hauled up before the start of the concert, so how would Pete have climbed there mid-show?
The song ‘Every Day Like The Sun’ came to an end and the drummer began pounding out a distinctive backbeat. The crowd went into a frenzy as Ash launched into his ‘Indestructible’ routine. Above the noise, Charley heard Big T’s furious voice in her earpiece.
‘Charley! What’s going on? Where are you? Report in right now!’
Charley couldn’t think straight with all his shouting in her ear. She tugged out the wireless earpiece, pocketed it and studied the tracker app again. She racked her brains as to where Pete could be hiding. If he wasn’t on the stage … or above it … he had to be under it!
Bounding down the steps two at a time, she reached the bottom, then dashed round to the walkway that led beneath the stage to the toaster lift. The passage was poorly lit by a scant run of bulbs, the criss-cross of scaffolding to either side looking like a steel forest in a horror movie. It wasn’t the sort of place to explore alone. Nevertheless she entered the passage and crept along, her eyes darting from side to side. From above, the muffled beat of ‘Indestructible’ thumped away, sending vibrations down the steel struts.
Her face lit by the soft
glow of her phone screen, she advanced deeper under the stage, watching her green dot slowly converge with the red one. Up ahead in the gloom, she spied someone moving. A figure was hunched over the hydraulic controls to the lift. He had a wrench and was uncoupling a pressure valve. Charley allowed herself a triumphant smile. She’d caught Pete in the act of sabotaging the toaster lift. She had all the proof she needed.
‘Stop right now!’ she warned, coming up behind him.
The figure spun round in shock and Charley was confronted by the roadie with the caveman-like beard. ‘You’re not Pete,’ she gasped.
‘No, I’m not,’ grunted Geoff. ‘What are you doing under here? It’s restricted access.’
‘What are you doing?’ she replied, eyeing the open hydraulic unit.
He held up the wrench. ‘Safety inspection of the lift. We have to triple-check everything now. It’s a flipping nightmare,’ he grumbled.
‘Sorry, I was looking for someone else,’ she said, turning and heading back the way she’d come. Charley glanced again at her phone. On the screen her green dot sat almost right on top of the red. She peered into the dark recesses beneath the stage. Pete had to be hiding somewhere in the shadows.
Somehow she had to flush him out.
Bringing up Amir’s text, she selected the mobile number linked to the IMEI and pressed call. In the darkness, a phone buzzed and a screen lit up.
If Charley hadn’t turned towards the sound of the vibrating phone, her brains would have been splattered all over the floor. But she caught sight of the wrench a millisecond before it struck and managed to dodge the fatal blow. The heavy metal tool glanced off her shoulder, sending a rivet of pain through her arm.
Crying out, she dropped her phone and staggered backwards.
Geoff swung the wrench again. Charley ducked and the tool clanged loudly against a metal strut. She tried to defend herself, but her arm was dead. The wrench came down and Charley dived between the scaffolding. She landed hard against a cross-beam, all the breath knocked out of her.
The roadie stepped through the gap as she tried to crawl away.
‘Where you going, Wild Cat?’ he taunted. ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, so shall you be!’
Charley’s eyes widened in horror. The roadie had made the death threats! He was behind everything: the letter bomb, the spotlight, the mic, the fire …
The killer roadie raised the wrench above his head, a maniacal grin cutting through his thick bush of a beard like a sliver of bone. ‘Time for Ash’s guardian angel to become a real angel!’
Charley held up her hands in a vain attempt to protect herself as Geoff brought down his wrench with the force of a sledgehammer. But an overhead strut stopped the tool dead. He glanced up in stunned annoyance. Seizing her chance, Charley kicked out hard and connected with the roadie’s kneecap. Geoff bellowed in agony and crumpled to the floor.
Charley scrambled to her feet. As she tried to get away, he made a wild swing with the wrench and struck her across the shins. Screaming from the bone-numbing pain, she fell forward and caught her chin on a steel strut. Stars burst before her eyes. Through the ringing in her ears, Charley could still hear Ash singing, oblivious to her plight just a couple of metres beneath him, the music on stage drowning out the noise of their brutal fight below.
Geoff began pulling himself upright. ‘For that I’m going to break every bone in your body, Wild Cat. Ash won’t even recognize you when I’m finished!’
Dazed and hurting, Charley dragged herself through the maze of scaffolding. She needed help. Glancing around, she spotted her smartphone on the floor. The roadie limped after her. Charley scrambled forward and snatched up her phone. Flicking the volume button, she turned to face her attacker.
Geoff laughed. ‘Too late to call for help,’ he said, winding up to beat her senseless.
Before he could whip the wrench round, Charley darted forward and thrust the arcing stun phone into the roadie’s chest. Geoff’s whole body convulsed and he let out a guttural shriek. His muscles locked up and the wrench clattered to the floor. Totally incapacitated, he toppled backwards and would have fallen if not for the scaffolding behind. Instead he hung like a limp rag doll from the bars.
‘How’s that for a stunning performance?’ said Charley, her head still reeling from chinning the steel strut.
She leant against the toaster lift for support. Her shins were on fire, her ribs ached, her shoulder throbbed and she tasted blood in her mouth from a split lip. Yet she knew she was lucky to be alive.
She also knew she needed back-up. Charley fumbled in her pocket for her wireless earpiece.
But the iStun hadn’t stayed in contact long enough to knock the roadie completely out. All of a sudden he lunged at her. Charley tried to stun him again, but he batted her arm aside and the phone went flying. Geoff threw himself on top of her and his heavy bulk sent them both crashing to the ground. In their struggle, his hands found her neck. Charley gasped for air as he began to squeeze mercilessly.
With only seconds on her side, Charley drove the tips of her fingers into the notch above his collarbone. Geoff gagged and jerked away. Charley tried to kick him off, but he was too big and strong.
Fight smarter, not harder, Jody had said.
Charley now targeted a knife-hand strike at his neck. Though she couldn’t put her full force behind it, the single sharp blow to the man’s jugular vein caused an involuntary muscle spasm and a burst of intense pain. Eyes bulging, he rolled away in agonized shock.
Charley found her feet. But the roadie, recovering fast, had the wrench in his hand again. As he swung wildly at her, she tried to block his attack, but her arm was still dead and her reaction too slow. The wrench hit her in the stomach. She doubled over in agony. Taking full advantage of her weakened state, Geoff shoved her against the toaster lift and forced the edge of the wrench against her throat. Charley choked as she felt her windpipe being crushed.
‘Where’s your guardian angel when you need one, Wild Cat?’ he hissed, digging the wrench harder into her throat.
Charley couldn’t breathe. Her feet barely touched the ground as the roadie pinned her to the side of the lift. She clawed at his face in an attempt to blind him, but her efforts to stop him killing her were becoming weaker with every second. Her eyes rolled in their sockets and what little light there was below the stage began to fade from her vision. Her own frantic heartbeat pounded louder in her ears than the muffled thud of the bass drum above. In the swirl of sound and fury, she’d heard the roadie hiss, ‘Where’s your guardian angel when you need one, Wild Cat?’
His savage face leered at her like a bearded devil, the bloodlust in his eyes horrifying. Then out of the darkness another face appeared, ghost-white and hairless.
‘Right behind you,’ said the angel, swinging a massive right hook into the man’s jaw that almost knocked his head clean off.
The pressure on her throat instantly ceased and Charley dropped to the floor. Spluttering and gasping for air, she looked up into the wrinkled face of her guardian angel.
‘The legend strikes again!’ Big T grinned, flexing the enormous bicep of his right arm and enlarging the words DANGER: WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION inside his cruise-missile tattoo. ‘You OK?’ he asked.
Rubbing at her tender throat, Charley nodded. She found it painful to swallow; otherwise she was in one piece. She glanced at the roadie now lying flat out cold on the floor. ‘Is he dead?’ she croaked.
‘He deserves to be,’ said Big T, kneeling down to
check. ‘But he’s not. So what’s Geoff’s grudge with you? I thought you were looking for Pete.’
‘I was,’ rasped Charley. ‘But Geoff’s the one responsible for all the attacks on Ash.’
Big T raised a dubious eyebrow. ‘Are you certain this time?’
Charley nodded and pointed to the hydraulic unit. ‘I caught him sabotaging the toaster lift. Amir’s tracking app brought me to this exact location. If you look at the roadie’s phone, I guarantee you’ll find the IMEI number matches the mobile used to post the accident messages. And I think the fact he tried to kill me confirms it all!’
‘Good enough for me,’ said Big T. ‘Vince! Rick! Pick up the garbage, will you?’
Big T helped Charley to her feet. ‘You look like you’ve gone ten rounds with Tyson.’
‘I feel it too,’ Charley told him, limping over to retrieve her phone.
‘You’re lucky Jessie spotted you going beneath the stage. I never would’ve found you otherwise,’ said Big T as he picked up the roadie’s mobile from the hydraulic unit. ‘Next time respond to my calls.’
‘Sorry,’ said Charley with a weak smile. ‘My earpiece fell out.’
Big T narrowed his eyes, but let the matter drop.
Above, the concert was still going on, the audience screaming in delight. Charley followed Big T out from under the stage, wincing at every step. The unconscious Geoff was dragged to an empty dressing room by Vince and Rick, and dumped in a chair.
Big T chucked a glass of water in the man’s face. ‘Let’s see what this scumbag has to say for himself.’
Geoff groaned. His eyes flickered open and darted nervously between the faces of the bodyguards. ‘Whasss … what’s going on?’ he slurred, holding his fractured jaw.
Bodyguard: Target Page 26
