Chapter 2

I will admit I have had an entrance met with less enthusiasm before but I also have to admit those times I was being shot at. The girls were for the most part scattered around the room in no particular order I could figure out but then what I don't know about recording music could fill entire databanks. Their expressions ranged from outright disgust to mild interest with a touch of apprehension and apathy thrown in.

Rachael was standing in the middle of the room surrounded by interesting and to me totally incomprehensible things that I could only guess were used to capture her voice. No surprise, but it was from her the disgust and outright animosity radiated in almost palatable waves. To her far left Niamh sat behind what even I could see was a drum set although I believe the correct terminology is "percussion generator." She glanced at me once and then ignored me. Shauna and Eimile were off to the far right with Eimile standing slightly behind her cousin shyly peeking over her shoulder while Shauna stood in an almost defensive stance, arms out protectively. Leanne was in the center almost directly behind Rachael looking at me with unguarded curiosity.

"Good day, ladies," I started. "My name is Martin Leforge and I've been assigned as head of your security detail."

"And just what the fuck are you supposed to be protecting us from?" Rachael demanded combatively.

"Actually, I'm not sure yet," I answered mildly. "I was hoping you would know and could tell me at least until I could receive my full briefing."

"Yeah, well we don't need any flipping babysitters," Rachael snorted.

"I am quite sure you don't," I said and then continued before she could say something. "Actually that's all part of my getting to know each other speech. I doubt any of you have ever had security before so I want to make it clear exactly what we are and what we're not.

"We're not your babysitters. We're also not spies for your parents, your producers, your boyfriends, husbands or anybody else for that matter. It's not our job to run your lives or make sure you eat all your vegetables. We don't care what you do in your private lives and hopefully will never have to interfere with them. Who you sleep with, what you drink or what you smoke is not our problem; keeping you safe while you do it is.

"In fact the only reason we're here is to keep you ― all of you ― safe. We're not your mommies or your daddies and we don't need to be best friends. If you want to treat us like furniture or wallpaper that's fine with me; I don't care. I say again; our only job is to protect you. Shielding you from kidnappers, muggers, rapists and annoying holo-com salespeople; yes that's our job. Running interference for equally annoying fans —well maybe; you'll have to tell us when it's too annoying. I'll be the first to admit I don't know much about the music business but I do know it probably involves some minimal contact with your fans. You let me know when it gets to be too much; I'll let you know when I start getting nervous.

"What we definitely are not is your errand boys; we don't carry your bags or run down to the corner shop when you need a pack of smokes. We also don't do laundry, screen your calls, break up with your boyfriends for you or wash windows."

"So what the hell do you do?" Rachael asked acidly.

"Good question," I replied noting her frown deepened. "I am hoping you will see us as guardian angels looking over your shoulders but not doing anything you know about unless we're really needed. That's probably a little too much to ask so hopefully you'll just view us as somebody who's following you around trying to keep you out of trouble.

"I understand Mr. Camberge will be in later today and with any luck he'll be able to tell up what this is all about. If he can identify the potential threats then maybe we can tailor our coverage to address them while leaving you as free as possible.

"Until then, I ask you to bear with us, me in particular, while we get this all sorted out. Any questions?"

"Are you going to be watching us everywhere?" Shauna asked.

"No," I said. "There are some places, like this studio and the hotel, where we will establish a perimeter and within that you will be on your own. Just to let you know we will be setting up quite a bit of surveillance equipment around those areas but not inside those areas. An example would be your hotel rooms; we won't be observing them nor will we enter them without your permission. However the hallways outside your rooms will be under observation. The same with here; the studio rooms aren't covered but the access to this floor is. In a while I'll be giving each of you a small alarm that can be activated vocally or by touch. It will alert us in case something happens inside those hopefully secure areas.

"Just a warning though," I grinned. "It activates when you use either my name or any of the team's and say 'help.' If you want to talk about us without us hearing you I'd suggest you use something other than our names."

"Like saying 'the Prick' when I want to talk about ya?" Rachael snorted.

"That would work," I nodded. Her attempts to annoy me were somewhat amusing but I could see it could get old real fast. Of course if the job were too much fun they'd call it a hobby and not pay me; having irritating clients is just part of the package.

"Are ya going to be with us when we go out?" Niamh asked giving her sister a dirty look. "Ah mean when were out shopping or something like that?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Which brings me to another point: When you do go out — and we are not trying to keep you locked up or anything like that — it would be best if you did it in groups. Not only is there safety in numbers but with only five of us and five ― or maybe six if Connor is involved ― of you, we're going to be spread pretty thin. I'd like you to remember we're going to be covering you 24 hours a day and my men would like to get at least a little sleep or a chance to take a shower." I grinned again, "Actually I think you'd appreciate that also." At least Leanne laughed and I'm sure I actually saw Eimile covering a smile as she peeked over Shauna's shoulder.

"Just a few more points," I continued. "Please let one of us know before you go anywhere and wait until one of us can go with you. Also there will be a few changes when we get back to the hotel. Right now they have you on different floors and spread out; that's going to change. We're going to be moving everybody together — no, not into the same rooms but your rooms are going to be next to each other. Your rooms will open only to your touch or one of ours but I assure you we will not be entering unless there is some indication you need us.

"My team member's rooms will be on the outside of yours so there should be no 'stranger' next to you. Our rooms will open to any of your touches. If you feel the need or something has made you uncomfortable or nervous you can duck into one of them at any time. It may be a bit embarrassing if you catch one of us taking a shower..."

"Or wanking off," Rachael interjected rudely.

" ... but I'd rather have one of us be embarrassed and you safe than not." I ignored her but it wasn't easy. It's generally considered bad form to take one's client across one's knee and wale the shit out of her ass with a belt so I tried to push that vision out of my mind.

"So unless there are any other questions right now I'll let you get back to your work and we'll get back to ours." I looked around but didn't get any more questions although I was sure I'd get plenty more in time. Turning around I walked out with Colour Sergeant Magaoidh right behind me.

"That young lady needs a good spanking," he muttered.

I looked at him sharply and said, "If I'm not allowed to think about that then neither are you."

"Right you are, sirrah," he snorted and nodded giving me a wink.

"Major, Mr. Camberge is here," Faolain announced. It had been less than a day but I could already see it was going to be impossible to break my team members of addressing me by my ancient rank instead of my name. I doubted I could even get them to address me as captain instead of major. Military training when applied correctly is a wonderful thing for producing highly-trained killers; the problem is it's damn difficult to break that training even after it's served its useful purpose.

"Good! Maybe we'll get a few answers now," I grunted. "Show him in, Whellan."

"Mr. Leforge, it's so good to meet you," David ― Just call me Dave ― Camberge practically bellowed as he pumped my hand. Camberge was a large man with a deep gravely voice, ruddy cheeks, bombastic hand gestures and eyes that looked more like diodes on a pers-comp screen. Everything about him screamed showbiz and grandiose but if you actually looked into those eyes you knew the brain behind those eyes was strictly interested in euro-franc signs.

"I'm sure you'll be wondering what all the fuss is and why we hired you big strapping lads to look over our little fillies," he continued.

"It has crossed our minds," I answered dryly.

"Well maybe we should find a nice quiet spot and I'll tell you about it."

"I'd rather have my whole team hear it right from the source, if that's all right with you," I said before he could drag me away. "Also, is there some reason the principals haven't been told anything about this?"

"Well now, we didn't want to frighten the lasses since it probably isn't anything ― really anything at all," he began speaking softer. "Wouldn't want them all nervous and such when they'll be trying to play their pretty music and all."

"I understand," I sighed and shook my head slightly. "But I've seen where it's best to let the principals know everything up front if you can. That way they won't be fighting the protection and to be honest what could be more scary than not knowing what the real threat is? If they're not strong enough for the truth than I doubt they'll react any better to what they're making up in their own imaginations. I don't know these girls very well yet but I can tell you they're not stupid. They can guess how much the five of us are costing you and they're not going to believe that somebody is going to pay that kind of cash for nothing."

"Mmm, I suspect you're probably right," his eyes narrowed and his accent receded considerably. It had gone from full Irish brogue to what one would expect to hear on a London news-vid. He was as fake as they come but then he was in showbiz wasn't he? "Very well, I'll tell you what I have and leave it up to your discretion as to how much to tell the girls.

"Shortly after we announced this tour we began to receive demands — demands followed by threats," he continued. "Naturally the demands were for money and the threats were against the girls if the money wasn't forthcoming."

"Obviously these threats appeared to be more than just the normal loony ranting celebrities always get," I commented. "Am I correct in assuming the authorities have been informed?"

"Oh aye, they have," he nodded. "But ... Well, let me be honest here; I don't know how your police have recovered from the war but ours unhappily haven't."

"Depends on where you look," I admitted. "With the exception of a few older veterans on the forces most of ours are either pretty young or the useless shits that weren't even good enough for cannon fodder. In general they do a fair job but they still aren't up to prewar standards."

"For us also," he nodded again. "Except we have this wee prejudice against veterans of foreign armies in our police forces and since most of the competent officers volunteered ... Well, they try ― I will give them that ― but they haven't had overly much experience with this sort of thing and..." his gaze steeled for a moment, "I have little desire for my charges to become their training exercise. I'd much prefer they gather their experience with somebody else."

"Yeah, I can see that," I snorted. "We had a saying in the army, 'What is the phrase most often heard right before a funeral? "This should be an interesting Learning Experience."' I wouldn't want somebody I knew to be one of those either. So I take it the police haven't been able to track down who sent the demands?"

"No," he shook his head. "They've been 'working on it' but have no leads. I'll send over what we have so you can look at it."

"What do you think is the principal threat?" I asked. "Kidnapping? Assault? Murder?"

"We have consulted with — mmm, outside resources," he said pinching his lips together. "This is quite possibly nothing more than simple extortion and if that is the case the most probable result would be attempted abduction when we fail to meet their demands."

He didn't bother to say that they weren't going to cough up the money. I didn't take him for a stupid man and only an idiot thinks you can solve this type of problem by giving into these kinds of people. If you give them money once you'll be giving it to them forever. Not only that but the amounts will keep getting larger and larger. You don't deal with vermin like that; you exterminate them the best you can while putting a shield between them and their targets. That's what we were: the shield. Maybe if we got lucky we could also be the exterminators but since that would mean they were getting close to the girls, I'd be glad to forgo that pleasure.

"Got it, kidnapping," I nodded. "That actually makes it a bit easier. I wasn't sure we'd be able to cover five principals with just five of us. That brings up another question: Is Connor supposed to be inside our envelope? If he is, someone is going to have to rein him in. I don't think he's going to listen to me."

"Let me address that a touch later if you don't mind," Camberge said, giving me a quirky little smile. "Let me address the question you didn't ask first: Why don't we just cancel the tour?"

"I assumed it was because of the money," I shrugged. "What other reason is there for being out in public when someone is after you? Honestly I don't make value judgments as to whether or not my clients should be out where they are exposed or not. It's always easiest to hunker down somewhere behind big walls but it's not much of a life. Celebrities almost by definition have to be out in public; I guess you can say it's their job. Everybody has to make a living and people like them can't make their living holed up somewhere."

"That's very intuitive of you, Mr. Leforge," he nodded. "But I would expect that of you. You do come highly recommended.

"What you say is true of most entertainers," he continued obviously not expecting me to respond, "and is even more so when it comes to music. It used to be a musician ― and their recording company for that matter ― could make a fairly good living sitting in a studio recording music and selling it as singles or in compilations; they used to call them albums."

"I know," I added when he paused to take a breath. "I happen to own a good number of them, some even in the old vinyl analog formats."

"Really?" he asked raising his eyebrows. "I would have never thought ... Just goes to show you can never really tell. Anyway, since these compilations were the only way to listen to specific music other than from a broadcast or seeing it live, the selling of these compilations was economically feasible. An artist could play and sell music without ever having to go before a live audience if they so chose.

"Of course starting in the latter half of the last century recording technology began advancing to such a point that once a piece of music was released it could be shared for free literally worldwide. Artists and companies that published and released their art were finding it was simply impossible to get paid for their work. Certainly they tried encryption but no matter what format they devised it took less time for someone else to break it.

"So what did that leave them? Either they performed their art for free or they turned to other avenues to earn their living. The stereotype of a starving artist may still be out there as popular mythology, but I can assure you I have personally met very few that actually enjoyed that status." He leaned forward slightly and continued very seriously, "I can assure you I have no intention of starving for the sake of art.

"So again where did that leave them? There were some small amount of royalties to be made from the broadcast still but not overly much and selling rights for soundtracks on vids as such, of course. But the real money was in the live performances. That was the only forum where they could control with absolute certainty the product they produced and the people who consumed it!"

"I can see that," I admitted. "And I fully support the musicians getting what they deserve for what they do. I certainly enjoy listening and I sure can't do it so making their money from playing concerts makes sense but can they really make enough doing that? Not to knock your business model or anything but will people really pay to see someone play when they can get the music for free and listen to it at home?"

"You would be surprised," he smiled and leaned back. "Have you ever been to a live performance?"

"A few," I acknowledged. "It was a long time ago and two times it was the same artist so I'm not sure if I'd be a good example." In fact the only concerts I'd ever been to had been when I was in the army and the USO sponsored them. Getting to see some decent talent for free was about the only benefit I'd ever seen come out of being in the war zone.

"Would you pay to see them again?" he asked.

"Maybe one of them," I admitted again.

"If you didn't you would be unusual," he continued. "People enjoy seeing performers perform. Even if you get a better sound quality from your own holo-tank or whatever you're playing it on, they still would rather see the artist doing it right there in front of them. And they're willing to pay quite handsomely for the privilege, I might add.

"This is the initial tour for Irish Mist. Twenty-five cities averaging twenty-five hundred paid attendance ― all sold out, by the way. The average ticket price is almost two hundred euro-francs with gross revenues over eleven million. Net will be over five million and that's just for a small tour. Irish Mist is the first band Ireland can call its own since the turn on the century that has the potential to become truly popular worldwide.

"That is why we cannot afford to cancel this tour and why we are paying your rather extraordinarily large fee to keep it from being canceled," he finished. I could only nod in acceptance.

"Now as for your first question: Connor," he continued. His eyes got narrow and about as close to angry as I'd seen so far. "Connor is as useless a piece of baggage as I've ever seen. He has the title of manager but Valeria from my office is the one who has actually been doing the bookings and pre-work for all the venues. If you have any questions or needs, contact her. As far as Connor is concerned, if the extortionists grab him or even make a try for him they can have him with my blessing. Your job is to protect these girls; he is definitely not part of your assignment."

"Got it," I nodded again.

"That's a load of fecking shite!"