Warhol's Prophecy

105

THE EXPLOSIONS WERE deafening.

The crowd cheered each fresh eruption, and applauded the multicoloured fragments that sprayed the heavens as each new salvo of fireworks was ignited.

Hailey was standing at the bottom of the steps leading down from the VIP stand, watching as car after car arrived to ferry guests from the gig venue to the Pavilion Hotel for the ensuing party. Most had already left, though she knew for a fact that the band themselves wouldn’t be arriving there for another hour at least. Their partners had gone to join them backstage. So had James Marsh and countless members of the local and national press, as well as music journalists and other interested individuals.

The crowd was drifting away now.

The scene they left behind them was one of utter devastation. Empty bottles, scraps of paper, plastic cups, containers – even abandoned clothes and footwear. What had been one of the best outdoor concert venues in the country, just hours earlier, now resembled an enormous dustbin.

But that, mused Hailey, was one of the few things that wasn’t her concern tonight.

Everything she’d needed to handle she’d done immaculately, and now – with virtually all the VIPs safely in their cars and on their way to the hotel – she could start thinking about the next stage of the proceedings.

It had been a great gig; that was all that mattered to the paying customers. All that mattered to the VIPs now was how much free food and drink they could stuff down their throats when they got to the party itself.

She felt a hand tugging at her skirt. Hailey looked down to see Becky smiling up at her.

‘Did you enjoy that?’ Hailey asked, bending down to kiss her little girl.

‘It was great, Mum,’ Becky said.

Even Rob was grinning. ‘Maybe I was wrong,’ he said. ‘They’re not that bad.’

Becky put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh, Dad,’ she said, ‘they were awesome.’

‘Awesome, eh?’ Rob said and swept her up into his arms.

Hailey smiled as she saw him swing their daughter around, heard her giggles of delight.

‘You two go on to the hotel,’ Hailey said, touching her husband’s cheek. ‘I’ve got to make sure the last of this lot get into their cars safely. I won’t be long.’

Rob nodded. ‘What about the band?’ he asked.

‘Their record company is taking care of them. They’ll be there, though.’

‘So you’re not the only one working tonight?’ Rob mused.

Hailey smiled.

There was a car pulling up.

‘You two go in this one,’ Hailey told him. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

The driver stopped the Jag and climbed out to open the doors for Rob and Becky.

She kissed her daughter.

‘Don’t talk to any strange men,’ said Rob cryptically.

He slid in beside Becky. The doors were slammed shut and the Jag pulled away.

Cars continued to arrive, picked up passengers, then left.

Hailey looked at her watch. Then at the next car heading towards her.

She frowned. This was no Jag or Mercedes.

It looked familiar.

The Scorpio halted next to her, and she saw that it was indeed Adam Walker’s car.

Caroline Hacket was driving. Walker was sitting in the back.

What kind of joke was this?

He pushed open the front passenger door.

As Caroline looked across at her, Hailey saw that her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks tear-stained.

‘Get in,’ said Walker flatly.

‘What’s wrong?’ Hailey asked. ‘What are you doing?’

It was then that she saw the gun. The pistol was pressed against the back of the driving seat where Caroline sat.

‘Get in, Hailey,’ Walker murmured. ‘Or I’ll blow her in half.’