Chapter Four
The next day, Elle was cohosting a radio show for Spirit FM—not a very big station, but its niche was jazz and blues.
She would be paired with Raine Sanders, who took the 2:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. slot. In between playing records, including a couple of Elle’s songs, the plan was that they would chat about her album for the first hour, then they would take calls and talk to listeners. Today’s topic was first times, in honor of Elle’s first single.
Elle and Conrad had to be there at 1:00 p.m. so the station could prep her on everything. Both Marcus and David had turned up as well.
“I can’t stay long,” David said, greeting Elle with a hug and a cheek kiss. “I’ve got a meeting in an hour. I just wanted to make sure you were okay?” He looked from her to Conrad.
“I’m fine,” Elle assured him. “He’s taking good care of me.” She looked around at her protector with a smile.
“Great. Well, let’s get started, and I’ll introduce you around.” It was his wife’s contacts that had secured them this opportunity. She was old friends with the station manager, and she had asked some other friends to listen in to the show and hopefully book Elle for their shows. David didn’t share that detail, though, because he didn’t want to make Elle nervous. He wanted to make sure everything went well.
David led them deeper into the offices, not even giving her time to say hello to Marcus, who seemed to be huffy today. She smiled and waved at him while she struggled to keep up with David’s long strides in her high heels.
Today, since she wouldn’t be on camera, she’d opted for an elegant navy pantsuit. The long boot cut of the pants hid her clunky platform footwear. Conrad had tried to convince her to wear flats until they got to the radio station, but after Marcus’s annoyed reminder yesterday, she didn’t want to upset him again.
Conrad introduced himself as Elle’s manager and once everyone was in the meeting room, he gave David a look to let the other man know he needed to speak with him.
Most people on the front lines of the armed forces developed a silent understanding since direct communication wasn’t always possible, so David knew what Conrad wanted. He approached Marcus.
“Can I leave her in your capable hands for a moment?” David smiled warmly at the studio executive. “I just have a few things to discuss with Conrad. Start without us. We won’t be long.”
Marcus seemed pleased to be able to take charge, and the two men headed out into the hallway.
“Problem?” David asked in a hushed voice as soon as the door was closed. Straight down to business.
“I need you to tell Marcus to lay off her a bit on her image.” Conrad scanned the hallway, looking for anyone approaching the only entrance to the meeting room.
“Something wrong?”
“He insists she wear these ridiculous platform heels as she’s got an image to maintain, which is fine indoors, but he wants her to wear them all the time. I don’t care how fit and able she is; no one but a stripper with a dozen years of experience could run and stay upright in those things!”
“That does seem excessive. Unfortunately, his heart is in the right place, and he’s got a good reputation in the business. I think because he looks young, he constantly feels he has to prove himself. He’s made perfectionism into an art form, and he doesn’t seem to know when to stop sometimes.”
“You’ll handle it?”
“Well, I would leave it to you, but you can’t protect her if you’re in jail for assault. So yes, I’ll deal with him.” He flashed a sly smile.
Conrad shared his smile, and they rejoined the group.
“Merchandise is fine,” Marcus was saying. “We can let you have CDs, T-shirts, mugs, and all sorts of merchandising. Auctioning concert tickets is also fine; we’re happy to provide you with some to use in competitions, but while I don’t expect there to be any problems, it’s on the understanding that a tour might not happen. At this point, it’s dependent on album sales.”
Seeing him in action, Conrad had to admit that Marcus was a good negotiator, getting the station to guarantee a certain number of plays of her single in return for memorabilia they could give away to fans in phone-in competitions. He kept his cool and was firm, yet he gave the appearance of being accommodating, when he actually wasn’t compromising at all.
The station looked out for its own interests too, and if all went well today, Elle would return for the launch of her next two albums. A small station such as this had to try to get celebrities to agree to appear before they were famous, or they’d never get a look in.
Marcus agreed, but he refused to lock down a date, nor would he commit Elle for three hours again. He’d have to see how things were progressing because a station like this wasn’t going to get Elle big headlines.
“I don’t mind,” Elle interjected at this point. “They’re helping me when I need it—it only seems fair that I come back when they request it.”
Marcus pursed his lips in irritation.
“Nothing’s set in stone, Ella. This is just a negotiation, and if you return, we need to keep our options open. What if you’re doing the talk-show circuit in America when they want you?”
If she returned? Was that a threat? Conrad looked to David, who was also scowling. Clearly, he read it as a threat too.
Conrad was sure studio executives did it all the time to make artists cooperate—the old I-made-you-I-can-break-you mentality—but it didn’t sit right with him. Artists were people, not just assets to be used and discarded. He’d been nothing but an asset for both the SBS and Blackwall, so he knew it wasn’t a nice position to be in.
This was an ugly business for someone like Elle to get involved in, although he admitted that her voice deserved to be heard.
Soon the conversation turned to the show, and the host, Raine, explained in more detail what would be happening and what they expected of Elle today.
Conrad and Marcus weren’t allowed in the studio as it was a small spaced filled with expensive equipment, but they could watch from the control room or watch the live stream of the show on the radio’s website.
Conrad reserved judgment on making a fuss and insisting on being in the studio with Elle until he saw the setup for himself. When he saw that the only way into the studio was through the control room, he relaxed.
The previous show was still in there at the moment, and when they switched to the news, Elle and Raine would have a few minutes to set up.
“Can you take it from here?” David asked Conrad.
“We’ll be fine.”
“Call me if you need anything,” David called over his shoulder as he strode away.
“Will do.” Conrad nodded toward David. Once David left, he turned to Raine. “Do you log phone numbers for your callers?” he asked.
“Um, I’m not sure. Bob?” She turned to one of the producers of the show.
“Those who don’t have their number hidden, yes.” Bob was a geeky hipster in black rimmed glasses and plaid, but he seemed to know his stuff.
“Is it possible for you to only accept calls today from people who haven’t withheld their numbers?” Conrad asked him.
“Sure. Any reason?”
Conrad looked over to Elle and saw she was deep in conversation with Marcus.
“She’s been getting crank callers recently. They either say all sorts of obscene things, or it’s just a string of curse words. Since she doesn’t accept incoming calls from withheld numbers anymore, they might try again here.”
The idea of her having a stalker would probably appeal to people in the media because it was a salacious story. He couldn’t guarantee their help in that circumstance. However, the fines for airing profanity were rather sizable, and a small station like this would want to avoid it at all costs.
Conrad hadn’t wanted to worry Elle by mentioning the possibility of her stalker calling in. His job was to protect her from the bastard so she could do her job, not to frighten her unnecessarily.
“Not a problem,” Bob assured him. “I’ll take care of it.”
Marcus steered Elle to a corner of the production booth.
“How are you holding up?” he asked softly, his concern evident. The radio show being played over the speakers helped ensure they weren’t overheard.
“I’m fine.” She gave him what she hoped was a bright smile.
“You don’t have to put a brave face on things with me, Elle, dear.”
“I know, but honestly, I’m as good as I can be, given the circumstances.”
Marcus nodded but glanced over at Conrad with concern.
“Is something wrong?” Elle asked.
Marcus opened his mouth, then closed it again. “It’s nothing,” he assured her.
“You can tell me.”
“I know but . . .” He looked around, as if searching for someone to rescue him. Finally he sighed in defeat. “I didn’t want to say anything, but . . . well, maybe I should.”
“Of course you should.” Elle’s curiosity was well and truly piqued.
“I just . . . had you considered that maybe David could be your stalker?”
She almost laughed, but Marcus looked so concerned that she held her mirth in.
“Just think about it. He discovered you at an open mic night. In the age of YouTube and social media, who gets discovered that way anymore? He really pushed you to Sonic management, which is not a bad thing, but I’m told he went above and beyond, taking an . . . unusual interest in your album. You wouldn’t know because you’re new to the business, but most agents don’t give the kind of attention he gives you, Elle. Really, he performs the role of agent and manager, which is very unusual.”
His points did raise her interest; she’d never seen their relationship from an outsider’s perspective before, but she knew he couldn’t be her stalker. She viewed him as a father figure, and she knew he had paternalistic feelings for her . . . but maybe that was unusual. Still, feeling protective of someone was a good thing, right?
“If he was stalking me, why would he hire a bodyguard for me?”
“That confused me for a while,” Marcus agreed. “But then I remembered that a lot of criminals like to be involved in the investigations of their crimes. They’ll insert themselves any way they can. Conrad could be David’s way of keeping an eye on how the hunt for your stalker is progressing, or worse still . . .” He hesitated again.
“Go on,” Elle urged.
“Well you saw them sneak away earlier for a private chat. What if Conrad isn’t here to protect you but to watch you?”
As sure as Elle was of David, Marcus presented a good case.
She glanced at Conrad, who was still chatting with the producers.
The radio presenters announced an ad break, then the news. Marcus leaned in before she was called away to start her show. “Just keep it in mind,” he urged. “Please.”
“I will,” she assured him.
“Okay, you’re up,” one of the producers told them as the previous presenters left the small studio.
Elle and Raine stepped toward the booth.
“Oh, here!” Marcus reached for Elle’s bag. “Your phone might go off in there.”
She blushed at not having thought of that and released her hold on the bag.
“Thanks.”
Elle headed into the studio, and Conrad stood at the window, so he could memorize the layout in there. The host sat on one side of the desk, and Elle took the opposite side. Then Raine told her to put her headphones on and explained how to mute her mic if she wanted to.
“Before we start, I think I’ll visit the little boy’s room,” Marcus announced, and Conrad rolled his eyes. Like anyone cared!
Everything Raine and Elle said could be heard in the production room via speakers.
The first hour of the show was little different from the interview yesterday. Raine asked the same kinds of questions, although they were interrupted by songs on the station’s playlist. The second and third hours, though, were where Elle shone.
People called in with all sorts of stories—from their first kiss, to their first pet, the first record they bought, and their first loss. Elle spoke to them all as if they were old friends, laughing along, asking questions, commiserating, and sharing little pieces of herself while being careful not to overshadow them.
Marcus wasn’t too talkative either, so it was a very stress-free afternoon.
Conrad texted the car service about five minutes before the show ended. When she was finished, he was able to whisk her out of the building with minimal fuss from Marcus.
Back at the hotel, Elle had to do a couple of other radio interviews, but these were over the phone and only about five to fifteen minutes each, including playing her single. She’d been quiet on the way home, contemplative, but with everything going on, he could hardly blame her.
While she spoke to radio hosts in the bedroom, Conrad checked their emails. The only thing of interest in his email was Browning’s preliminary findings on Elle’s ex-boyfriends, and so far they were clean.
Elle’s email had some spam, a message from a friend, some Facebook notifications, and another new message from her number one fan.
His message today began by talking about how much he liked listening to her on the radio this afternoon, and how terrible it was of her not to accept calls from withheld numbers. He continued by assuring her he would teach her good manners once she was with him. From there, it degenerated into another sick and twisted, probably stolen fantasy, like the others.
That detail still bothered Conrad: Why would you steal someone else’s work? Did this guy have no imagination, or was he too lazy to write down his own fantasies? Or maybe these stories had inspired him to start stalking?
He navigated to a website that discussed the various types of stalker, one that went into great depth on each type. He read the detailed description of each in the hopes he might spot something he’d missed, and he’d finally know what kind of animal he was dealing with.
The room phone rang, and there was an extension within reach, so he picked it up before it could disturb Elle.
“One-oh-one,” he answered with the room number rather than a name.
“Sir, this is Max at the front desk.” He was the security guard who was stationed behind reception, the one he’d pointed out to Elle. “There was an attempted flower delivery for you a moment ago. We turned them away because of the alert on your account, but I felt we should let you know.”
“How long ago?” Conrad asked.
“A minute or two.”
“Was it a genuine courier?”
“I believe so. I managed to get some details if you wanted to follow up. The company was Blooming Great. The receipt he showed me with the hotel address on it was handwritten, so it was probably a telephone order. It was placed at 4.30 p.m. and rush job, tonight was underlined three times. The florist’s website was also listed on the bottom as . . .”
Conrad was jotting all this information down as Max said it.
“Thank you very much. If you could have a car ready in fifteen minutes, I’d be much obliged.”
“Of course, sir.”
Conrad hung up and went into the bedroom where Elle was in the middle of changing, her back to the door.
“Jesus!” she cried and darted under the bedcovers. “Don’t you knock?”
He wanted to apologize, but the sight of that creamy white flesh seemed to have momentarily robbed him of the power of speech.
“Get dressed and pack your things,” he managed to growl. “We’re leaving.”
“What? Why?”
“We’ve been compromised,” he said as he backed out of the room.
God, she is beautiful, he thought as he all but slammed the doors closed. What he wouldn’t give for-
No! Someone had discovered their location. The wet daydreams would have to wait.
He lived out of his suitcase, which meant he hadn’t unpacked much. He took his phone out and called Browning’s to give them the florist’s details, hoping they could trace the payment back to Elle’s stalker and finally put an end to this mess. They worked twenty-four hours, so his call was answered immediately.
He then asked to speak to hospitality, a nice euphemism for the department that handled safe accommodations. He’d dealt with hospitality before, and they remembered him, so he didn’t have to worry about credit or identity checks.
“What are you looking for, Mr. Conrad?”
“Something in London, at least one bed, two room. As secure as possible.”
“We have one apartment that fits the bill, sir. It’s in a serviced apartment block near Pall Mall, and not only is every corridor covered by CCTV, occupants can access those live feeds through their televisions. I’ll text you the information and then have an agent meet you there with the keys; they’ll explain all the safety precautions to you. Be sure to tell the doorman that Mr. Raison sent you or he won’t let you in.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
This was going to eat a large portion of his savings, so the record company better repay him! Still, those concerns could wait. Right now, he had to keep Elle safe.
“What’s going on?” Elle asked as she emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, dragging her hastily packed suitcase behind her.
“Someone sent you flowers here.”
“Could it be David?” she asked.
“He doesn’t know where we are, only you and I know we’re staying here. You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But it’s just flowers. Do we really have to move?”
“I know it’s a hassle, and yes, the flowers are probably harmless in and of themselves but—”
“What do you mean in and of themselves?”
He knew she liked explanations, but life was so much easier when you could simply issue an order. He tried his best not to sound exasperated, but some frustration slipped into his tone.
“At best, the flowers are a quiet threat basically saying, ‘I know where you are.’ At worst, well people have put some very nasty things in flower boxes, up to and including bombs and anthrax.”
She went very pale.
“Look, its fine,” he tried to reassure her. “We’re going to a nice place near the Houses of Parliament and Buckingham Palace, so it should be packed with more police per square mile than anywhere else in the UK. Only an idiot would try anything.”
She nodded, but he didn’t think she’d heard a word.
He took both their suitcases so they could move quickly, plus they made good battering rams in case they encountered any resistance. They made it into the car without issue, and as they drove away, he checked for tails. He always did this, so he was almost certain that they hadn’t been followed back to the hotel earlier that day.
He couldn’t think of another way they’d been found, though.
He directed the car to drop them off by the Barbican Theatre. Then he led her to the closest tube station, and they took a train to Charing Cross. From there, they hailed a black cab to drop them at the Ritz Hotel, which was near the apartment block.
“Isn’t this overkill?” Elle asked softly as they entered the subway.
“Right now, I have no clue how anyone could have traced us, so I’m a little paranoid,” he admitted.
She didn’t question it again.
Conrad gave the doorman the message he’d been told to deliver, and he was told to go to the concierge desk. The concierge made a call, then escorted them to the apartment, using his key card to unlock the elevator. He took them right to the apartment door and left them with the Browning agent.
Although she dressed just like a letting agent, she was tall, muscular, and had the air of military about her. She gave them a name, but Conrad was sure it was false. Then she explained the apartment features to him as she gave them a tour.
Elle followed, but he didn’t think she was taking much in. She looked rather shell-shocked.
“The main door has a steel core, nothing short of a bazooka is getting through there. For extra protection, there’s a discreet door brace.” One part was screwed into the floor. The other part slid in at a right angle, so the door couldn’t be opened once it was in place. “The alarm code is 1219. If you’re under duress, type in 5555, and we’ll have police here in under five minutes. The windows open, but you’re on the fourth floor, so you’re unlikely to be burgled. Don’t open them after you’ve set the alarm for the night or it’ll set the alarm off. In the event of a fire, there is a rope ladder in the master bedroom, affixed below the window.” She led them in there now. “Just open the window and push the whole unit out, then climb down.” She demonstrated as best she could without actually doing it.
“Any visitors have to be called up by the concierge, and if you say no, they won’t be allowed access to the building. You’ll have noticed that you need a pass to access the elevator; these are yours.” She handed them two cards. “You only need them from the lobby up, not to go down, or floor to floor.”
“So there’s a chance a neighbor could call asking to borrow some tea?”
“A very slim chance. Speaking of . . .” She led them into the living room and picked up the TV remote. “You can view the entrance, lobby, and all hallways. The peephole is actually a camera, so you can view who’s outside your door. Just press this button and keep pressing it to cycle through cameras. It starts with your peephole view, then the lobby, then it cycles through the corridors. Each feed is clearly labeled.”
She handed him the remote control and headed into the kitchen.
“The apartment is stocked with some food and drink. There are takeout menus in here.” She opened a drawer. “The concierge will take delivery and pay for your order; you’ll reimburse him the cost plus tip. Do you have cash?”
Conrad nodded. Cash was the only thing that didn’t leave a paper trail these days, so he’d brought plenty with him.
“Good. The concierge can also arrange for shopping to be delivered and almost anything else you want. There’s a safe in here.” She opened a lower kitchen cupboard, the sort that usually housed pots and pans. “The code is the same as the alarm code. Again, if you enter 5555, it will still open the safe, but the police will also be called. Oh, and the whole place is proofed against surveillance, which means your phones won’t work; you’ll need to go outside or use the landline.”
“What about the internet?”
“LAN connection only, heavily firewalled. I wouldn’t try downloading anything bigger than a photo. There is a massive DVD collection in one cupboard, though, and board games too, I think.”
“Okay, I’ll take it from here.” He shook her hand, and she gave him the keys. Then he walked her to the door.
He noticed her give Elle a look, clearly wondering who she was to warrant such expensive protection, but she knew better than to ask. He thanked her again and showed her out, throwing the dead bolt across and sliding the door brace into place.
“Okay, you unpack. I’m going to email David and tell him to communicate by email only from now on. I’ll leave my email open so the laptop will ding when we get a new message.”
Elle nodded.
“Will you take the second bedroom now?” she asked.
He did a double take. They’d moved for the second time in two days, and she was worried about his comfort?
“I mean, this place seems pretty Fort Knox–like. You could probably take a night off and sleep in a real bed.”
“I’ll think about it. Are you feeling better?”
“Better?”
“You were a little pensive earlier.”
“Oh.” She shook her head as if shaking off a bad thought. “It was nothing, honestly. I’m fine. Or as fine as I can be.”
“Well, all right.” He didn’t believe her. “Why don’t you go settle in?”
She wheeled her suitcase into the bedroom, and he went straight for the takeout menus in the kitchen, browsing through them.
“Do you fancy pizza, Indian, or Chinese?” he called.
“Anything.”
He chose pizza; you couldn’t go wrong with pizza.
He phoned the order in from a landline in the kitchen, which helpfully had the address written above the handset. Then he dialed down to the concierge to let him know to expect the delivery.
“I found the movies!” Elle called. He went through to the sitting room to see her poking her head into a cupboard, Hello Kitty pajamas stretched over her fetching behind. “They’ve got everything in here!”
“I thought you were going to unpack?”
She jumped and turned to him. “Jesus! How do you move so quietly?” Her hand fluttered over her heart as if keeping time with it.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She shook her head. “I’m just a little skittish.”
“Pizza’s on the way. You should finish unpacking.”
“I hung my suits and dresses up and put my toiletry bag in the bathroom. I didn’t see the point in doing more.”
He nodded, unable to disagree with her logic. She stuck her head back in the closet, squinting to better see the titles.
“Here.” He flicked the light switch on, and she flashed him a sheepish smile for not thinking to look for a light herself.
They didn’t find Parenthood among the collection, so they decided on the first of the Bourne movies.
David emailed an updated schedule for the next day. Elle had a late-morning meeting with a popular music website as well as a late-night appearance on a BBC show! It wasn’t a huge ratings winner, but the BBC was mainstream. From here, she could get invited to prime time shows, if all went well.
Conrad was willing to bet that this news would ordinarily be greeted with much jubilation, but he could understand why Elle only smiled wanly and said, “That’s great!”
It really is hard to enjoy life’s pleasures when you’re constantly aware, even if only at the back of your mind, that someone wants to hurt you.