Bodyguard: Target (14 page)

‘New York, Dallas, Las Vegas,
Miami, LA … Talk about one awesome assignment!’ said Blake, loading
Charley’s travel case into the boot of the Range Rover. ‘Wish I was
going with you.’

‘You forget, all that
travelling’s a hard slog,’ replied Charley as she crunched across the
gravel driveway with her Go-bag.

‘Yeah, right. Free concerts,
celebrity-filled parties, exotic locations. I’d kill to go on a mission like
that.’

‘Well, if you recall, I’m on
this mission because someone wants to
kill
Ash.’

‘As if that’s going to
happen with all the security
his manager’s put in place.’

‘Don’t underestimate the
lengths celebrity stalkers will go to,’ said Jason, coming up behind them.
‘I’ve read some pretty disturbing stuff during my research into possible
threats against Ash. Breaking-and-entering to lie in wait for the celebrity.
Fantasies of torture and mutilation. Killing of family pets. Voodoo dolls sent in
the post –’

Charley rolled her
eyes. ‘You’re not going to scare me, Jason.’

‘You should be scared. Celebrity
stalkers may seem like over-obsessed fans, but they’re often deluded, mentally
ill and can be violent – even deadly.’

‘Well, that’s a cheery note
to say goodbye on!’ said Blake, closing the Range Rover’s boot.

‘Have neither of you read my
threat report?’ asked Jason,
indignant.

‘Not yet,’ Charley
admitted.

‘Well, I wouldn’t recommend
reading it before bedtime. It’ll give you nightmares.’ Jason offered
Charley a half-hearted wave and strolled back inside.

‘Man, he can be an idiot at
times!’ said Blake. Once certain Jason was gone, Blake reached tentatively for
Charley’s hand. ‘Listen, I’m sorry for being a little …
grumpy
with you lately. It’s just that … I worry about you.’

‘I can handle myself,’
Charley replied, thinking,
Why did he wait until now to make his
apology?

‘I know you can,’ he agreed.
‘And I admit it: I’m jealous. Ash is going to spend all that time with
you and I’m not.’

Charley squeezed his hand in response.
‘We always knew this would be difficult,’ she said. ‘We
only get
to see each other between missions. That’s why we should try to make the most
of it when I am here.’

‘You’re right, of
course.’ He moved closer, his expression hopeful. ‘Are we good
now?’

Blake’s sullen attitude since
discovering she’d be protecting Ash Wild had been tiresome. It was hard enough
preparing for a mission, let alone managing a moody
boyfriend
at the same time. But he
had
apologized … and he was cute.
And it was reassuring to know she had someone back at base who truly cared for
her.

‘We’re good,’ she
said.

Smiling, Blake wrapped his arms round
her waist and drew her close. But, as he moved in to kiss her goodbye, there was a
crunch of gravel behind and they both turned to see Colonel Black making his way
towards the Range Rover. They broke their embrace a second or two before he spotted
them.

‘Ready to go?’ Colonel Black
asked.

Charley nodded. The colonel clambered
into the Range Rover and gunned the engine. As she jumped in beside him, she
secretly blew Blake a goodbye kiss. ‘Save that for my return.’

Blake caught it and mouthed in reply,
Stay safe
.

‘The media has become so intrusive
that celebrities have little privacy any more,’ explained Kay, reclining in a
designer chair, her long legs crossed beneath the oval glass table that she’d
invited Colonel Black and Charley to sit round. ‘That’s why we need
exclusive residences like this.’

She waved a hand at the stylish decor
and plush furnishings. White leather sofas, black walls, the largest flatscreen TV
Charley had ever laid eyes on and, most impressive of all, a teardrop swimming pool
that started in the living room and finished outside in a landscaped
garden enclosed
by high walls topped with razor wire.

‘Of course, it all costs
money,’ Kay admitted, ‘but it’s worth it to keep Ash
safe.’

‘The security here is most
reassuring,’ confirmed the colonel. They’d entered the West London
estate through a manned gate, then had their IDs verified again by Big T at the
door. Along with the razor wire on the walls, Charley
had noted discreet CCTV and
infrared cameras strategically located around the residence. There were even panic
buttons installed in every room. The villa was a literal fortress.

‘Has Ash
received any more death threats?’ the colonel asked.

‘Nothing in the post since moving
here,’ Kay replied. ‘So far we’ve managed to keep Ash’s new
address a secret and we’re monitoring
all the mail that does come
in.’

‘That’s good news,’
said Charley.

‘It would be if that was the only
source of threats.’ With an icy fury in her eyes, the music manager opened a
super-slim laptop and turned the screen towards them. ‘Like any celebrity, Ash
is a target for online abuse. He receives a constant stream of insults and threats
from haters eager to criticize,
belittle, character-assassinate or worse. These sort
of people make me sick!’

Colonel Black and Charley studied the
sample of online posts on the screen. They varied from childish name-calling and
scornful posts to harmful rumours and threats of physical violence. The messages
became more and more extreme the further down the page Charley read:

‘Of course, all this abuse is
accessible to Ash,’ Kay said with a sigh. ‘I can’t shield him from
it.’

‘But
we
can shield
him,’ stated Colonel Black. ‘It’ll be a tricky task to sift the
genuine threats from the trolls. But I’ll
have my team run a search of these
users through the
police database to establish if any of them
have a criminal record or a history of violence. That should help identify potential
suspects.’

‘Do you know anyone who might have
a grudge against Ash?’ asked Charley.

Kay tapped a polished nail on the glass
table while she considered this. ‘There is one: a songwriter who’s
convinced Ash stole his hit song, “Only Raining”.’

‘Did he?’ asked Colonel
Black.

‘
No
,’ Kay replied
emphatically, then threw up her hands. ‘However, where there’s a hit,
there’s a writ. The guy was furious when he lost the court case, along with
all his money paying the legal costs. His name is Brandon Mills. The police
interviewed him over the letter bomb, but
they found nothing that linked him to
it.’

Charley ran a quick search on the
internet and pulled up an image on her tablet screen. ‘This him?’ she
asked, pointing to a middle-aged man with dark blond hair, designer stubble and
steel-blue eyes. He looked like a wannabe George Michael.

Kay winced, then nodded.

‘You knew this man?’ asked
the colonel sharply.

The
music manager’s eyes narrowed.
‘We lived together. Briefly.’

‘And?’

‘It didn’t work out. Nothing
to do with Ash.’

Charley downloaded the image and
associated links to the threat folder in her operation file, making a note of
Kay’s involvement with him.

‘Anyone
else?’ asked the colonel. ‘One of Ash’s ex-girlfriend,
perhaps?’

Kay pursed her lips. ‘Ash
has had
a few girlfriends. Hanna Price was the latest, but she’s busy with her own
modelling career now. And she doesn’t strike me as the revenge
ty–’

‘Sorry I’m late,’ said
Ash, strolling into the room. ‘Got stuck songwriting and lost track of the
time.’

He pulled out a chair and plonked
himself down next to his manager. His smouldering eyes were enough to melt
any
girl’s heart and he used them to full effect on Charley along with a dazzling
smile. But, having seen the exact same look in one of his publicity photos, Charley
had no difficulty resisting his charm. She had to admit, however, that Ash had a
certain star quality. When he’d entered the room, there was an instant frisson
in the air, like a build-up of static electricity.

‘So, you must be my new
bodyguard,’ said Ash, addressing Colonel Black with a salute.

The colonel stared straight back at him.
‘No, Charley is.’

Ash did a double-take.
‘
Seriously?
’ He laughed out loud and, when no one else
joined in, it quickly petered out. ‘You
are
serious.’

‘Yes,’ said Charley.

‘No offence,’ said Ash,
‘but you’re, like, my age and a
girl
.’

‘That’s the point,’
replied Charley, trying hard not to take offence. ‘The best bodyguard is the
one nobody notices, and I can blend in as one of your friends or as a
fan.’

Ash responded with
a strained smile. He leant over to his manager. ‘When you said Charley, I
thought you meant a guy,’ he hissed.

‘Does that make a
difference?’ said Kay.

‘Of course
it does! How’s
she
going to protect me?’

‘
She
is a trained
bodyguard,’ responded his manager.

Ash glanced doubtfully over at Charley.
‘But I already have Big T. Why do I need her?’

Kay replied, ‘Your protection is
my highest priority. I want all bases covered. And Charley will be your final
invisible
ring of defence.’

‘Invisible? It’s
non-existent! If
some maniac can get past Big T, they’ll be able to take out a
girl. I don’t think you’re taking my death threats seriously! This has
to be a joke.’

‘I’m deadly serious,’
replied Kay.

‘Then hire a
real
bodyguard.’

‘I have,’ stated Kay, her
tone hardening. ‘Do you question whether I’m up to the job as your
manager just because I’m a woman?’

Ash shook his head.
‘Of course
not.’

‘Then
don’t
question her ability as a bodyguard.’

Charley sat awkwardly with Colonel Black
as this heated discussion took place in front of them. While Ash’s initial
reaction hadn’t come as a complete surprise to Charley, it was a
disappointment and not the best way to start an assignment. Still she was heartened
by the manager’s stated confidence
in her.

‘I can assure you, Ash,’
said the colonel, ‘that Charley is very much up to the job.’

‘Well,
I’ll believe it when I see it,’ replied Ash with a strained smile. He
looked at Charley. ‘Sorry for any confusion on my part. But an easy mistake to
make, eh? Big military guy. Blonde sexy girl. Who’d have thought
you
were the bodyguard? Anyway, I’ve a band rehearsal
now, so I’ve got to
run. I expect I’ll bump into you on the tour then?’

‘You can guarantee it,’
replied Charley.

As Ash excused himself and headed out of
the living room, Kay turned to Charley. ‘Ash is worth a fortune to a lot of
people. He must be protected at all costs. Now I’ve backed you up, you’d
better not let me down, Charley.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Charley
replied, sounding as self-assured as possible despite the huge weight of expectation
on her shoulders. ‘I’ll accompany him like a second
heartbeat.’

Colour posters swamped the four walls of
the cramped little bedroom. Glossy calendars – some official, some not –
were pinned alongside, while cut-out magazine articles filled the remaining
spaces.
Not a single square centimetre of the original wallpaper was visible beneath the
massive unbroken montage. Even the ceiling was blanketed in pictures, postcards and
concert memorabilia.

Every photo, every image was of Ash
Wild.

His face grinned out in perfect
heart-throb style – performing at a concert, appearing on television, posing
on the beach. Tabloid
shots showed him going for a jog, having dinner, shopping for
food, walking in the street, his whole life – professional and private –
exposed by the lens of a million cameras.

A full-size cut-out of the rock star
stood in one corner of the room. Creepily lifelike, the guardian watched over the
most precious items of the collection: an Ash Wild baseball cap, a signed tour
programme, a limited-edition vinyl copy of Ash’s first single, a guitar
plectrum thrown by the star during a gig. And, at the heart of this treasure trove
of
souvenirs, a photo signed by none other than Ash Wild
himself.

The bedroom was a virtual shrine to the
rock star.

And, to leave no one in doubt, on the
bedroom door hung a sign saying
I’M A
WILDLING
!

The computer on the desk displayed a
Wildling fansite –
Wild: For the fans by the fans
– updated
seconds before with a new post enthusing about the forthcoming tour. From the
desktop speakers, on endless repeat, Ash’s voice sang ‘It’s only
raining on you, only raining … ’

The single bed, the only other piece of
furniture in the room, was covered with an Ash Wild duvet and
pillow case. On top
lay an open suitcase. Inside, clothes were folded neatly and packed in individual
clear plastic travel pouches. A washbag, containing shower gel, face cream,
hairbrush, deodorant, a blister pack of tablets and a tube of toothpaste, was
carefully stowed. And tucked inside a money belt was a slim stack of highly
sought-after concert tickets, plus the necessary
travel documents and a crisp new
passport.

From downstairs came the sound of a
doorbell ringing.

‘Hey, sweetie, your car’s
here!’ called up a shrill voice.

With a final check of the contents, the
Wildling fan closed the suitcase, slipped on the money belt and rushed down to the
waiting taxi.