Terror On Tour Chapter 4

Terror On Tour

Chapter 4

Wait you can’t cancel the tour, Corey blurted, almost choking on his waffle.

I can and I will, he said as he shifted from one foot to the other in agitation.

You mean you haven’t done it yet? I asked. Cancelled the tour?

Darius looked at me and looked like he wanted to hit me. Not yet but I’m going back to the office right now. When my superiors hear about what happened—they will agree with me that this is over.

DC Mendon talked with you, then, Teresa said, taking a bite of her fruit salad.

Yes, I have never been questioned by the authorities before, Darius said indignantly. And I have no idea about any silly fruit basket. We don’t send fruit baskets to our clients. Why would we? You work for us. You sell a million records then maybe I will send a fruit basket.

Sit down, Darius, I said offering him the empty chair at our table. He had calmed down a little and after hesitating, finally took a seat.

I’m sorry for my little outburst, he said finally. I’m just not used to all these problems. Problems about record companies and delays I can handle, but cancelled reservations and flights and now poisoning. Is this thing normal back in Canada?

No, I assured him. But I will get to the bottom of this mess, trust me. Someone wants to mess up the bands plans and they are definitely playing hardball. What happened to Dylan was despicable.

Everyone at the table agreed.

Well, hopefully Mr. Price will be well enough on Friday to do the concert. He turned to Corey and Teresa. You need to meet with Renny and Charlie very soon, preferably before the interview. I will now take you to the interview in a company limousine. Renny will accompany you to and will sit in on the interview. I hope that is satisfactory? Charlie can’t make the interview, he has a family commitment. But he’ll be good to go for practise later on.

I’m sure it will be satisfactory, Teresa said with a smirk.

I turned to Van. I would like to go and talk to the young man, the courier who brought the basket. What was his name?

 Ben. Van remarked. Ben Stewartson.

Yes, right. DC Mendon was going to talk to him but I would like to talk to him as well. I would like to go with you guys to the interview, seeing as Van and I are security. I think I have time to go and see the courier right now, though.

We’re leaving at 9:30, so you have about an hour, Darius said with a sniff. I’m taking these two to meet Renny now. Be back here in an hour.

I nodded and turned to Van. Would you like to come with me?

Wouldn’t miss it for the world, he muttered.

The courier office was only a block away according to Henry. Van and I entered the shop that had a little bell above the door to announce new customers. How quaint.

Can I help you, an older gentleman said from behind a wooden counter. He was bald and wore an aging tweed jacket and wire rimmed glasses. His nametag said “Ronald”.

Good morning Ronald, I said brightly. I wondered if Ben was around?

Who are you? He asked curiously. You don’t look like police. They were just here questioning Ben. I sent him home. He’s very distraught over what happened.

We’re not the police, I said.  I’m Justin and this is Van. We just wanted to ask him a few questions about the delivery to the Princess Elizabeth hotel last night. It was our friend who was poisoned. We know Ben had nothing to do with it. We just wondered if he remembered anything about the person who sent the fruit basket?

You’ll have to talk to him. Like I said I sent him home but I’m not giving out his address to a couple of strangers. You can call him. Ronald picked up the phone and dialed a number then handed me the phone.

A voice came over the line. Yes? He asked with trepidation.

Ben? This is Justin. An acquaintance of Henry at the Princess Elizabeth hotel. Was wondering if a friend and I could pop around to your place later today and ask you some questions about the fruit basket delivery?

I had nothing to do with the poison, he said, panic rising in his voice. Why won’t you people leave me alone?

I know you didn’t, I said quickly. We’re not here to harass you. I want to help find out who’s responsible then this whole mess will be cleared up. Do you remember anything about the person who ordered it?

He was silent for a moment. Sure, you can come over around dinner time and I will tell you everything I know, which isn’t much. He gave his address which was an apartment about a kilometer away. I thanked him and hung up.

He’ll see us this later this afternoon around 5, I said to Van, waving the piece of paper with the address on it. Come on, let’s get back to the hotel. The interview is happening soon.

We thanked Ronald for his help then headed back to the Princess Elizabeth. It was 9:29 and the promised taxi was waiting at the curb. Corey and Teresa were also waiting in the lobby. We piled into the cab and headed to the radio station.

99.9 THE ZONE was a new radio station in downtown London that had just started up a few months ago. On the way we had passed over Westminster Bridge, the famous wheel, the London Eye, off to our right as we passed over the bridge. Big Ben and Parliament Square were on our left on the far side of the river as we crossed.

The taxi turned right and we headed north to Charing Cross and Trafalgar Square then swung around to the left and headed north again.

We soon arrived at the radio station and were ushered into their swanky office high-rise a block from Piccadilly Circus, the famous intersection with its flashing lighted displays and crowds of tourists. Darius met us in the lobby and ushered us back to a conference room on the ground floor. The speakers above were broadcasting music that was currently playing which was a mix of hip hop and pop rock.

So no problems, this morning? Darius said, glancing at me.

No, I said. No problems. We’re hoping Dylan will be OK for the concert tomorrow night.

Good, he said. I’ll be right back. Try not to get into any trouble when I’m gone, he said, then left the room.

A few minutes later Renny the substitute drummer arrived. I hadn’t met him before but Corey and Teresa had met him earlier back at the hotel. He was young, about 16, with long stringy blond hair and a wispy moustache. He was tall and rail thin and wore a black t-shirt with the ComfortZone logo on it. Nice touch. Ripped jeans and high top sneakers completed his wardrobe.

Both arms were covered in sleeve tattoos, colourful depictions of what looked like comic book characters. He nodded to Corey and Teresa and looked at Van and me. Who are they, your groupies? He asked Corey.

Something like that, I said. I’m Justin, I said offering my hand which he shook with trepidation.

I’m the other groupie, Van Gilman, nice to meet you Renny, Van said offering his hand which Renny shook as well.

No really, who are you blokes?

Security, I said. We’re friends of Corey along to make sure everything runs smoothly.

That’s cool, he said taking a seat next to Corey.

Darius arrived a minute later to usher the group to the broadcast studio. Van and I followed along and would remain in the control booth with Darius while the band would be in the broadcast studio with the deejay, Jonny Juice.

Jonny came out to meet us. He was an older guy about 50 with longish grey hair and goatee. He was dressed in jeans and sweatshirt and sneakers.

So you guys are ComfortZone, he said with a broad grin when introduced to Corey Teresa and Renny. Welcome to Ninety nine nine the zone.

Glad to be here, Teresa said nervously. Corey just nodded agreement but remained silent. Renny just stood there with a goofy grin on his face, like he wasn’t quite sure what was about to happen.

Jonny ushered the group into the studio. Van and I followed Darius back into the control booth. Two sound engineers were there but didn’t acknowledge us “plebes”.

We could see the broadcast booth through a large window, with Corey, Teresa and Renny seated around a large table with Jonny at the far side. They all donned headphones and we could see Jonny talking to the band, likely prepping them for the upcoming interview. Corey looked like he was ready to puke any second. I caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up and he nodded and grinned weakly.

The song that was playing ended and Jonny’s voice came on the air.

This is Jonny Juice here at 99/9 the zone in greater London. Home of the city’s best rock and roll music. It’s 11 am and I have some special guests with me on the air this morning. All the way from Canada. Ontario to be exact, a small town of Port Salman on Lake Ontario just outside Toronto. The group calls themselves the ComfortZone. Lead singer Corey Cross is 19 and still attends high school back in Port Salman…”

That’s Port Salser, Corey corrected with a shaky voice.

What was that?, young man, Jonny said brightly.

Port Salser, Corey repeated this time with a nervous cough. Our hometown. It was named after the dude who established it. Back in the 1800’s. I forgot his name, Corey said.

He’s rambling, Van whispered and I nodded.

Oh, I apologize, Jonny continued, with a laugh. I stand corrected. It’s Port Salser. Thanks for correcting me in front of a couple million listeners, Mr. Cross. My reputation for perfection is now tarnished forever. I don’t know how I’ll come back from such a set-back.

Corey gulped and Teresa’s face went beet red. Jonny noticed this and went on. I’m only joking with you guys…relax. You’re among friends here.

Behind me I heard Darius grunt and mutter something under his breath.

OK, so ComfortZone—did I get the band name right?, Jonny said with a chuckle.

Corey and Teresa nodded. Renny just stared ahead into space like he was asleep with his eyes open.

What was up with that dude?

Good, so, cool name for a band. But I want to know how long you guys been together…

The interview went on for about a half an hour. It was relayed that Renny was not part of the band but a fill-in and that the guitarist was in hospital, a victim of a vicious prank. Darius grunted again at this revelation.

All in all it went well. Jonny played 2 of their songs, “The Great Pretender” and “Day After The Night Before” which was being released as a single in Europe today. Against the far wall the panel of phone lights lit up, and one of the engineers went over to answer the phones, taking messages.

I turned to Darius. Is this a good sign, all these people calling in?

Darius just looked at me for a moment like I was an idiot for asking such a dumb question. What do you think, mate? He said finally. Yeah, it’s a good thing. People either requesting to play the songs again or they want to know when they will be released on iTunes and what the album will be called—things like that. Some are probably asking about the concert tomorrow night.

Suddenly the engineer that was manning the phone turned to us. Say, you guys might want to hear this.

We turned to him and he put the call on speaker. Soon a computer voice filled the room.

This is an automated message…then a pause…Tell ComfortZone to go back home. We don’t want them here in London or anywhere else they are going on their tour. Tell them to go back home or they will all die…

Then the line went dead.