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Meanwhile, at a well-known Chicago radio station, the end of the interview caused the usual commotion. Producers, hosts, technicians, and assistants gathered in the hallway with their phones ready, waiting for their turn to approach Taylor.
Only after every employee had gotten a photograph or an autograph were Ethan and the security team finally able to clear the way out and leave the building.
—Damn... —Ethan muttered as they stepped outside.
He escorted Taylor to the vehicle, waited until she settled into the back seat, and closed the door. Then he walked around the car and got behind the wheel.
—And I thought my job was hard.
—What do you think now? —Taylor asked.
Megan handed her a bottle of water. Taylor took it and drank through a straw so she wouldn't ruin her makeup.
Ethan glanced into the rearview mirror. Even from the parking lot, he could see several station employees watching them through the windows.
—That this isn't a job for human beings.
He didn't bother softening it.
Taylor slowly lowered the bottle.
—I do this almost every day.
—That just proves you've gotten used to suffering.
Megan laughed from the seat beside her.
—You've been working for her less than a day and you're already exhausted.
—I've chased drug dealers who were less trouble.
Taylor shook her head, although an amused smile appeared on her lips.
Ethan started the engine and waited for the other vehicles in the convoy to begin moving.
From the time she had gotten up shortly after five until now, well past nine, Taylor had barely had a minute to rest.
If Ethan were a celebrity, he would probably be the kind who collapsed on the floor after an hour and refused to move.
—First, you have to love what you do —Taylor replied with a smile—. Only then can you put up with it.
She looked at him through the mirror.
—Just like your job.
—We're going to Soldier Field now, right?
Ethan checked the rearview mirror and waited for the security vehicle ahead of them to pull away.
—That's right.
Megan, sitting beside Taylor, reviewed the schedule in her hands.
—There's still one final rehearsal. We have to run through the entire show.
—Hmm.
Ethan activated the intercom and notified the vehicle ahead.
In the back seat, Taylor had already closed her eyes. Her head swayed slightly with the motion of the car.
Seeing her like that, Ethan reached over and turned off the radio.
The convoy arrived shortly afterward at Soldier Field, the enormous stadium located beside Lake Michigan.
It was also home to the Chicago Bears football team. The stadium was completely open, and its stands could hold more than sixty thousand people under normal conditions.
Staff brought them through a VIP entrance to avoid the fans who had already begun gathering around the stadium.
The moment Ethan entered the preparation area, he felt a headache coming on.
There were easily more than a hundred people there, including stadium maintenance staff, organizers, lighting and sound technicians, as well as dancers and musicians.
Fortunately, they also had specialized security.
Otherwise, Ethan would have lost his patience in less than ten minutes.
—Don't worry.
Megan noticed his expression.
—A lot of the people here have worked with us before. Most of them know each other.
—I wasn't worried about strangers.
Ethan put a cigarette between his lips.
He shrugged.
—Only someone close to her could know her this well. I'll keep an eye on the perimeter.
Taylor, walking ahead of them, stumbled slightly.
Megan turned and glared at him.
Ethan lit the cigarette and raised both hands.
—Sorry. That was my fault.
At that moment, he really didn't need to put any more pressure on Taylor. When they reached the area near the stage, Ethan was impressed by the sheer size of the stadium.
From that perspective, the stands seemed to stretch almost to the horizon.
A large portion of the field itself was also covered with seats. He wondered what it would look like when the concert began and every one of them was occupied.
The rehearsal started shortly afterward.
Ethan stood backstage, never taking his eyes off Taylor or the people around her.
Taylor, completely focused, was surprisingly impressive.
She seemed to have put the threats and fear behind her. She repeated every piece of choreography over and over without showing any fatigue, trying to perfect every movement.
—Five, four, three... move!
—Shh.
Taylor ran from the center of the stage toward the front.
That was when Ethan noticed something that hadn't really caught his attention before.
A massive runway extended from the main stage, similar to one used in a fashion show.
Taylor moved along it while dancing with her backup dancers.
—This can go up and down —Megan explained enthusiastically, moving her hands—. The entire platform can rise several meters.
She pointed toward the mechanisms near the stage.
—And thanks to those systems, the whole runway can shift into a kind of fan shape.
Megan seemed to grow more excited as she spoke.
—Imagine Taylor up there, moving slowly above thousands of fans waving lights. It's going to be incredible.
Ethan studied the structure for several seconds, imagining the stadium completely full.
—Spectacular.
He couldn't think of a better word.
—Exactly. Spectacular.
Megan's eyes seemed to light up.
—It's a design very few artists use. When the moment comes, Taylor will literally be at the center of everyone's attention.
Ethan's phone vibrated.
He glanced down at the screen.
Ignoring Megan's excitement, he stepped a few paces away and answered.
—Hey. Any progress?
—Yeah, but not much we can use —Erin replied from the other end—. Too many people know where Taylor is staying, and there are several celebrities involved. It's impossible to investigate everyone.
Ethan frowned slightly.
—What about the list of people who know the exact location of her room?
—We already checked it.
Erin continued:
—Financially, everyone looks fine.
She paused briefly.
—And none of them have criminal records.
—Come on, give me some good news.
Ethan rested one hand at his waist.
—What about the explosives? Anyone close to her with knowledge of explosives?
—Yes.
—Who?
—Her bodyguards.
Ethan went silent on the other end of the line.
—They all have military backgrounds —Erin added with a sigh.
—That's normal in private security.
—Exactly. So it doesn't help us much.
Ethan watched the activity around the stadium as he thought.
—What about the van that delivered the cake?
—We're still tracking it. We've spent hours going through traffic cameras and footage from nearby businesses.
The fatigue in Erin's voice turned into obvious complaining.
—We're going blind staring at screens while you're making a fortune following a celebrity around. It's not fair.
Ethan smiled.
—And what do you want me to do about it?
—Make it up to us —she replied without hesitation—. I'm sending you two pictures. Please get Taylor to sign them for me.
Ethan pulled the phone slightly away from his ear.
—Hello? Erin? That's strange... The signal is terrible in here. I can't hear anything.
—I can hear you perfectly, you son of—
Ethan ended the call.
—Beep.
He hung up before she could finish.
Ask her for an autograph?
Absolutely not. How was he supposed to do something that embarrassing?
A moment later, the phone vibrated again.
Ethan looked at the screen.
Erin had sent him several crying emojis followed by two knives.
He smiled and slipped the phone away with complete composure.
—Hey, you.
A voice came from nearby.
Ethan turned his head.
Three men in black suits were sitting on some equipment cases beside the stage.
They were smoking while watching him with unfriendly expressions.
They were members of Taylor's private security team. And ever since Ethan had arrived, they had been pushed into the background.
While talking on the phone, Ethan had wandered toward one side of the stage and, without realizing it, had ended up almost directly in front of them.
—You talking to me? I have a name. Next time, show a little more respect.
—Yeah. You.
One of the men tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground.
—Quarterback. Come here. We need to talk.
It was Rick. The same bodyguard with the mohawk who had tried to block Ethan's way outside the conference room the night before.
Judging by his expression, he looked like he had been waiting for hours for the chance to face Ethan. He was obviously looking for trouble.
Ethan sighed and walked toward them.
—Listen. I'm only here temporarily.
He stopped in front of the three men.
—Three days. That's it. After that, whatever you do or don't do won't be my problem. Understood?
Rick practically ignored everything Ethan had just said.
—Cop, where are you from?
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
—Marines? Army? Air Force?
—None of them. Chicago police.
Ethan shook his head.
Then he extended a hand.
—How about this? We got off on the wrong foot, so why don't we start over?
He looked at all three men.
—We all work for Taylor. There's no reason to make things harder for ourselves.
He paused.
—I assume you're professional enough to understand that.
—Of course.
Rick stood up.
He was a large man, thick-necked and considerably more heavily built than Ethan.
He stared at him.
—Everyone here is professional... but if you're going to take our job, we at least want to know whether you're competent enough to do it.
Rick extended his hand.
If Ethan had served in the military, they probably would have found some common ground quickly. But he hadn't, and to Rick, that meant he had to be tested first.
Ethan accepted the handshake.
Their palms met firmly, and almost immediately Rick tightened his grip. His forearm was thick, the muscles standing out beneath his skin as he increased the pressure.
—Come on, Rick.
—Show him who's boss.
The other two bodyguards began encouraging him under their breath.
Rick wore a confident smile. His hand was enormous, and the strength in his fingers made it obvious that he trained regularly. Unfortunately for him, the man standing in front of him was Ethan.
Several seconds passed without either hand moving. Gradually, Rick's smile disappeared. His face began to redden, and the muscles in his jaw tightened with effort.
Ethan could feel the pressure too. It hurt, but he could tolerate it without much trouble.
—That all you've got? —he asked calmly.
He added a little more pressure.
Rick's fingers began to give, and the corners of his mouth twitched.
—That's enough.
Ethan immediately relaxed his grip. Rick pulled his hand away and discreetly flexed his fingers while a thin layer of sweat appeared across his forehead.
—You're strong —he admitted.
—Strength doesn't mean much if you telegraph everything you're about to do.
Rick's expression hardened.
—What's that supposed to mean?
—It means you've spent the last thirty seconds focused on my hand and haven't looked at Taylor once.
The other two guards stopped smiling.
Rick stepped toward Ethan.
—I don't need you teaching me how to do my job.
—Then stop acting like you're at the gym.
The remark used up what little patience Rick had left. He reached for Ethan's shoulder, perhaps intending to shove him.
He never touched him.
Ethan caught his wrist, pivoted to the side, and used the bodyguard's own momentum against him. With his other hand, he controlled Rick's elbow and, after sweeping one of his legs, forced him down onto one knee.
Before the other two men could react, Ethan had already pinned Rick's arm behind his back.
It all happened in barely two seconds.
—First lesson —Ethan said with complete calm—. Never try to grab someone without controlling their other hand.
He increased the pressure slightly. Rick grunted.
—Second: never take your eyes off the waist. If I'd wanted to draw my weapon, you'd already be dead.
One of the bodyguards stepped forward, but Ethan stopped him with a look.
—And third: while all three of you were busy figuring out who had the biggest ego, nobody was watching the person you're supposed to be protecting.
The two men immediately looked toward Taylor.
She was standing only a few yards away, watching the scene with her arms crossed.
Ethan released Rick and stepped back. The bodyguard quickly got to his feet, rubbing his wrist, more embarrassed than injured.
—I'm not here to take your jobs or prove I'm stronger —Ethan continued—. I'm here because someone managed to get a bomb past you. If you want to test me, do it when Taylor is safe.
Rick stared at him for several seconds. The irritation was still on his face, but the arrogance was gone from his eyes.
Finally, he nodded.
—Understood.
Ethan gave him a faint smile.
—Good. Now get back to watching the entrance.
Then he turned and headed back toward the stage.
He was being paid to protect Taylor.
He couldn't waste too much time playing games with her bodyguards.
Rick watched him walk away.
Only when Ethan was far enough away did Rick move the hand he had just used behind his back.
His fingers were still trembling uncontrollably.