CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Ha! They were back on tour! He knew they would be. His contact had told him all about Brian’s determination to prevent his life from being ruined…
But no determination was going to stop him from having his fun.
“So is my job still on?” the blond haired, evil eyed man in front of him asked.
He turned away from his computer screen with the latest Backstreet Boys news and nodded, a grin splitting across his face like a cut appearing upon somebody’s throat. “Yes. You’re still on.”
“And my payment?”
“Payment, Fred? You’ve always wanted to kill a pop star! I’m giving you the perfect opportunity!”
Fred pulled himself up to his full, short height and glared at him. “I still want paying.”
“But you still owe me, remember? From three years ago? Let’s consider this as calling in old debts.”
“All right,” Fred replied sulkily. “Which one am I getting? That one, I take it?” He pointed to the numerous pictures of Brian that had been pinned up on the wall, complete with darts, knives and crude drawings upon the face.
“Absolutely not. He’s mine. You get him and I’ll rip every limb from your body!” Brian was going to be his… all his to play with… “You get this one.” He held out another picture for Fred to examine.
“Okay, no problem.”
“Now listen carefully because I have this all planned out. On Monday, the boys will be in this town and I’ve already checked out the local arena. There’s a lot of trap doors in the ceiling for the technicians to use when rigging up the stage and lights. After the stage is set up, you station yourself by one of those doors. It’ll be dark and there’ll be a lot of noise so no one will notice you.”
“The ceiling? I don’t want to fucking fall!”
“What else do you want to do? Try and murder a Backstreet Boy from the audience? You think that’s possible?”
“Fine,” Fred said moodily. “How am I getting up there?”
“My friend will see to it that you get a good place. Once there, wait until the ninth song because at the end of the pyrotechnics will kick in and you can knock him off without anybody noticing. By the time they realise what has happened, you’ll be back through the door and out of sight. Get changed into the police clothes and then get out as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible!”
“You mean I might get caught?”
“Leave the gun in the ceiling and act like a cop. I’ve even got a badge for you!” He waved the police officer’s badge and ID card in Fred’s face. “You’re invincible with this and don’t lose them before Monday because it was difficult for my friend to get hold of them without anybody seeing!”
Fred took the items and whistled as he examined them. “Could do a whole load of shit with these babies.”
“Including the death of a Backstreet Boy, just don’t miss!”
“I’ll try, but it’ll be hard with them jumping about,” Fred said, but then seeing the face of the man before him he coughed. “But it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good, now get out.”
“Get out! It’s not good for you to be seen hanging around here! The police are already after you for three murders!”
“Four murders,” Fred said smugly.
“Whatever, just fucking go already!”
His eyes narrowed as he watched Fred leave. He didn’t trust that weasel at all, but he was one of the best people for the job. He was the only one smart enough to successfully pull this one off and he would be at the concert himself to make sure he succeeded. That and the fact that he had a present that he wanted to give to Brian…
The plan for Brian had already been set. After the death of one Backstreet Boy, Brian would be caged and waiting for him. How perfect…
His contact would do most of the work and would bring Brian straight to him. He would hardly have to do a thing. Why do the dirty work yourself when so many other freaks were willing to do it for you to stop themselves getting on your bad side?
His contact would be highly rewarded after this… or shot maybe. Depends how much of a good mood he was in and if his plans with Brian went well.
Brian… he was looking forward to meeting him. From what he’d heard, the guy was a wuss and he could easily have fun with someone so fragile.
He had already circled the date on his calendar. By Tuesday, he would finally meet Brian. By Wednesday at the latest, Brian would be dead.