Terror On Tour Chapter 3

Terror On Tour 

Chapter 3

You’re accusing us of cancelling the reservations and our flights?, Dylan said, incredulous. You have some nerve, Corey!

Well, who else would it be? Corey muttered.

It ain’t us, Teresa said. We’ve been waiting for this break for a long time. I for one am ready. I’m pumped about this tour.

Me too, Dylan said. I can’t believe you would accuse us of something like that. You’re a jerk if you think that. Come on, you know us too well to think that.

Hold on, I said, putting up my hands. Corey’s not accusing anyone of anything, right buddy? I said, turning to him.

No, he said after a slight pause. I just don’t know who else it would be. Last time it was one of us and we didn’t know, did we?

Yeah, well, OK, I can see why you thought that, but dude, you can’t go around pulling that crap at this stage of the game. We need to be on our game for this tour. This could be it—our big break. We do well on this tour, we tour the US and Canada, our single hits number one. Whoa! Think of it, Cross.

I think about it every day, that’s why this whole thing is freaking me out.

Are you OK, Corey, I asked and he looked at me and nodded weakly.

That’s why we asked Macdonald and his flunky along, Dylan said with a smirk at Van. They’ll get to the bottom of this so we can concentrate on our music.

Corey nodded. You’re right as usual. I’m worried about Nate, though. And about Sam. I hope nothing happened to them.

I’m going to call Canning, I remarked. See if he has any lead on the guy with the mohawk and see if he can find out what happened to Nate and Sam. It’s really suspicious that they both missed the flight. I don’t think it’s a case of cold feet. They were both pumped about this tour. Frankly I think something has happened to them.

The taxi arrived soon and took us to the other hotel. We called Darius on the way and told him about the change of accommodations. He was understandably annoyed at the change.

You better figure out who’s messing up your plans, he said. We can’t afford this kind of disruption on the tour. If there’s too much of this stuff the sponsor might pull the plug on the tour. And TopFlight isn’t happy either. Get to the bottom of this mess soon, or you’ll be heading home sooner than you think. With that he hung up in a huff.

The desk clerk at the Princess Elizabeth was a young man named Henry. When he found out the group was a rock band from Canada he was impressed. Can I have your autograph? He asked with a grin and the band obliged though they were tired.

After checking in it was past midnight. I showered and changed into jammies (gym shorts and tank top) and climbed into bed. Van and I shared a room and he was already asleep in the other bed. I was too wired to sleep. At 1 am I put a call into Canning as it was only 8 pm at home. He was concerned about Nate and Sam when I told him about their not showing up at the airport. I’ll see if I can locate them this morning, he remarked.

Thanks, Paul. I said. I told him about the messed up hotel reservations and that we were staying at the Princess Elizabeth hotel now. Any leads on mohawk guy? I asked.

Maybe, Canning said. There’s a guy named Seth Teller whose parents live in Port Salser. He still lives in Toronto with friends, but he matches the description you gave me. I’ll email you a photo and let me know if this is the guy. We’re looking for him but we questioned his parents and they don’t know where he is.

Thanks again. I hope we can get to the bottom of this mess. The tour manager is ticked at all the disruptions and is threatening to cancel the tour if there are any more screw ups. The band can’t afford for that to happen. They’ve put too much effort into this tour. I have to find out what’s going on. I think Teller might be a key to this.

And I’ll try to find Nate Sanderson and Sam Hunter, Canning remarked. I’m frankly worried about them now—given Nate’s past history with delinquency. I know the band has been a good influence on them, but something may have happened to them. I’ll let you know when I hear anything.

I thanked Paul again and hung up. I was tired now. Van was still snoring in the next bed, but I was still able to fall asleep. I awoke to the shrill ringing of the bedside phone. I grabbed the receiver, Van was still sleeping and the clock read 5:12 am.

Yes? I muttered into the phone.

Justin, it’s me, Corey. You need to come to my room. Right away, something’s happened to Dylan.

I was fully awake now. I jumped out of bed and threw on my housecoat.

Whazzup? Van said groggily from the next bed.

Something’s happened to Dylan. I’m going to their room.

M-hmm, Van mumbled and started to get up. He climbed out of bed and followed me to the door, still dressed in his Batman jammies, with one sock missing.

Corey and Dylan shared the room across the hall and Teresa had the room next to ours. She met us in the hallway. Something’s happened to Dylan, she muttered as we knocked on the door. Corey answered and let us in. The doctor is on his way, Corey said gravely.

What happened? Teresa said

Dylan woke up about half an hour ago with severe stomach cramps. He was sweating and didn’t look good. He collapsed unconscious soon after. I called the hotel doctor then you guys. We were silent for a moment. Dylan was laying on his bed, breathing heavily. He looked pale and was still sweating profusely.

A knock at the door interrupted our thoughts. Corey answered it and led the doctor back to where Dylan was laying.

The doctor checked him over then turned to us. This man needs to go to the hospital. I will call an ambulance right away.

What is it, sir? I asked. What’s wrong?

This young man has a severe case of food poisoning. Did he have anything to eat in the last few hours before bed? The doctor asked.

We ate at the airport in New York before we flew here, then ate on the plane, I remarked. We haven’t eaten since arriving in London.

Dylan had some of the fruit from the gift basket we got, Corey remarked.

What basket? Van asked.

Didn’t you guys get a fruit basket? Corey asked, turning to show us a large fruit basket that had been wrapped up in cellophane wrapping. It was open and some of the fruit was gone.

The doctor went over to the basket and checked out some of the fruit.

Dylan had a banana and an orange, Corey reported. I didn’t have any, though.

You may want to contact the authorities, the doctor said gravely, turning to us. This fruit has been laced with some kind of poisoning. Your friend here is lucky he did not eat more, or he might have died. He is in bad shape as it is and needs a hospital. The ambulance should be arriving soon.

I went to call the authorities and soon an officer arrived to investigate the poisoning. In the meantime the ambulance had arrived and taken Dylan. Corey stayed behind with me to talk to the officer, DC Mendon, while Van went with Teresa to the hospital.

DC Mendon took samples of the fruit basket and put them in plastic bags. He then went off to speak to the hotel security and night manager and also the day manager of the hotel.

About an hour later he returned to our room  where we had been told to wait. The desk clerk Henry had accompanied him as he was concerned about us and wanted to help find out who had injured Dylan.

How did you receive this fruit basket? the officer asked Corey. He had sent the fruit samples to police headquarters for further testing.

It arrived about an hour after we got in the room, Corey remarked. I was already in bed. Dylan answered the door. It was a courier, a young guy who brought it to the door stating it had originally been sent to the other hotel and was redirected here. Compliments of our record company, TopFlight Records here in London.

The bloke who brought it is a well-known courier, Henry spoke up. We’ve used him before for courier jobs between the hotels and other places like the courier offices. His name is Ben Stewartson. He’s a friend of mine. I can call him if you would like?

That won’t be necessary, DC Mendon said gruffly. I will question Mr. Stewartson later. Well, it looks like someone doesn’t like you very much. Can’t say as I like your kind of music, what is it? Rap?

No, pop rock, Corey said defensively and DC Mendon sniffed. Don’t care for that much either. Give me a good opera any day. Well, my investigation is complete here. We will follow up with Mr. Price at the hospital, hopefully he has regained consciousness, but I can’t say as we will find out anything from him anyway. I will talk with Ben Stewartson now. And you said the basket was sent by your record company? Can you give me a name of someone from the company?

Corey gave him Darius’s name and contact number.

He turned to Henry. Would you be so kind as to give me Mr. Stewartson’s address, save me some time?

Sure, Henry said, as they walked away.

Whew! Corey muttered, running a hand through his hair. This is nuts man. If Darius finds out about this, he’s going to freak.

If he finds out? More like when he finds out. This is bad. Dylan may be seriously hurt. You guys have a radio interview later this morning and have to get to the theatre to practice with your new drummer and bass player. That reminds me , I need to call Canning later to see if he found out what happened to Nate and Sam.

Van and Teresa arrived back from the hospital with some news. Dylan had regained consciousness but was still very ill. He had been given an antidote to the poison, the doctors were able to discover it was a chemical compound used in some pesticides. Used primarily here in England and Ireland, Van reported. The fact that it was on the fruit and in high concentrations, Dylan could have died. The doctor is reporting his findings to a DC Mendon. Is he the dude who was here questioning you guys?

Yes, Mr. Opera, I said ruefully. At Van’s questioning expression I said, Tell you later.

Corey sat down on the bed and fell back with an exhausted look on his face. How can we go on without Dylan—and without Nate and Sam? He said in frustration. He sat back up again. Justin you have to find out who did this. I knew something was wrong back home when we got that note. Then the guy in the green mohawk. He must be behind this. You have to find him. We can’t lose this big break. I have a feeling that Darius has already cancelled the rest of the tour. Once DC Mendon talks to him, he’ll cancel it for sure.

We don’t know that, Van said coming over and sitting next to Corey. We’ll call him and tell him what happened. You and Teresa can do the interview this morning and by the time the concert goes Dylan might be feeling OK. You have a replacement for Nate and Sam. Darius has to let you guys go on, he’s invested too much in this already. If you guys are successful then he’s successful. He was just being—well like he was earlier. A bit of a pompous—

Van. I said giving him a look. He  nodded. Thanks, I mouthed and he nodded again.

Corey went back to his room and Teresa to hers to prepare for the interview. Darius was sending a taxi to pick them up at 9:30 to take them to the radio station for 10.

I checked my emails and saw the one sent by Canning. The photo of the guy was indeed the guy who I had seen backstage in Port Salser. I returned the email and told Canning this. The original email also stated that there was no sign of Nate Sanderson or Sam Hunter anywhere in Port Salser. The police were now looking for them as their families were frantic with worry.

I wondered how Darius was going to take the news of these latest developments, but he was furious when he heard what had happened. He came over to the hotel at 8 am. We had all showered and were dressed for the day and were eating in the hotel restaurant when Darius came up to our table. His bearded face was red with anger.

That’s it! He bellowed. The other patrons turned to see who had caused the outburst. The tour is finished. I’m done. You can pack your bags and go back home! I don’t want to see you guys again. And as for your record contract, the label is dropping you as well!