A Brothers Murder

ONE

IT'S A BEAUTIFUL, SUNNY, summers evening in Leicester Square in London.

And tonight, is Premiere Night.

Crowds of people follow each other coming from Charing Cross Road, heading to Leicester Square in a south westerly direction, where they are directed by the Police to go behind some metal barriers, that are about one meter wide and one meter high, all securely linked together, on either side, that creates a channel, in the pedestrianized area, with enough room for a Limo, a small truck or transit van sized vehicle to go down.

The barrier channel makes its way down Cranbourn Street, then turns left down Leicester Square going past the Odeon cinema, where the Premiere is being held, then down to the end, turning left on to Irving Street, then back on to Charing Cross Road.

On either side of the metal barriers, hundreds of excited fans lean on them, noisily watching and waving to all the limos as they go by.

There is also a heavy Police presents, with Police Officers in front of the barriers standing on either side, every ten feet or so, hoping to deter any terrorists, and vigilantly watching the crowds for any incidents or accidents, knowing, they may have to put their lives on the line if something does happen.

The sun is still high in the sky, with temperatures in the mid to late eighties. Some may think that this quite unusual for the U.K., but here it is, with everyone dressed in what they like to wear, whether it the latest summer fashion or something loud and proud, and some wearing what seems, in quite a few cases, hardly anything at all.

Even though they are enjoying the beautiful sunny weather, they are much more excited about the Limos pulling up outside, one of the West Ends most famous cinemas, the Odeon Leicester Square, which is one of the oldest and most prestigious cinemas in the U.K.

Many hundreds of people watch celebrities being dropped off, trying to do there bit to keep themselves in the public's hearts and minds.

Firstly, they get out of there limo's, usually it's the main celebrity or star of the film being Premiered.

If it's a man, as they get out of the limo, they take a moment to wave to the crowds while the paparazzi do their thing, usually wearing a easy to operate Tuxedo, all while trying to look super cool and sexy.

He then places a hand out for his partner for the night, maybe his wife, husband, girlfriend, boyfriend, fellow actress or even maybe their mistress, who then quickly step out, give a quick wave and head off somewhere and wait.

If it's a woman, she'll try to get out the Limo with dignity, while wearing some dress that cost a fortune, designed by a top fashion designer, which is so fragile, that any kind of wrong pull, stretch or move, could leave the actress standing there with a tear, or damaged dress, or even fully naked, great for the paparazzi, and as the saying goes, 'If you break it. You bought it!'

Yep. It can't be easy being a woman, especially in the Movie industry, or any male dominated business or industry for that matter.

They then make their way to the red carpet, stopping and doing selfies with the crowds of fans just eager to be noticed by them.

Then comes the red-carpet paparazzi, the pictures, the glitz, the glam. Which must sometimes feel like standing in front of a row of strobe lights. Depending how famous you are in that moment, as we all know, fame can be fleeting and taken away at any time.

Next, it's the legions of interviewers, all wanting and hoping that they can get some face time with the celebrities, if not only for their respected news companies or entertainment shows, but also for their own self-worth, and to keep their own small fan base alive, and in the hopes of getting more. Some daring to ask the odd probing question about some gossip or titbit that they've heard, which could take their career to another level, heading toward getting that all-important talk show, or could cause an awkward even embarrassing moment, which could see that interviewer black listed by the Celebrities P.R. Company and heading towards unemployable. And let us not forget, that the titbit was probably given to them by the P.R. Company themselves, getting the celebrities the much-needed face time needed to keep their careers alive, literally. But they've always got YouTube.

While the celebrities keep arriving, I keep leaning against a back wall, holding a cell phone in my right hand, with one head phone in my left ear, as the other dangles down, and in my right ear I have my 2-way earpiece. So, to the outside world it looks like I'm on my cell phone talking to a friend.

I've been to a lot of these things but you won’t notice me, you rarely see me on the red carpet, I'm Mr Grey, someone you wouldn't look twice at, because my job, on this wonderful hot summers evening is to stop one of the celebrities getting hurt or even killed, by who, I don't know yet, it could be a disgruntled fan, or simply a psycho, but either way I'm paid to stop them.

The wall that I am leaning on is attached to the Odeon Cinema, behind a massive group of fans screaming and shouting for the attention of any of the celebrities that walk by, and trying to grab a selfie, just so they can update their social media pages, or tweet '#Look who I'm with! #Aren't I popular!'.

For me being a teenager was hard, well it seemed so at the time, and now adding social media to the mix of hormones, and trying to find out who the hell you are, and what gender you may be, if your one at all, in this experimental thing called life, and where you fit in, shit.., reminds me of the Queen and David Bowie song – 'Under Pressure', or maybe that should be changed to 'Constant Pressure'.

Now it also seems that teenage boys are beginning to feel the same kind of scrutiny as the girls, being told by magazines, TV ads, social media and peer pressure what products they should be using, and what their latest look should be.

They can also be bullied or stalked by anybody at any time, from anywhere, pretending to be somebody else and not having a clue who the cyberbully or stalker is, whether there male or female, young or old. Telling everybody everything about themselves and even where they’re going and what they'll be doing makes it unfortunately even easier.

Thinking about it, this can happen to you at any age.

It's all about how many likes you can get, how many friends you can get, and even, how many fans you can get on your YouTube channel.

So glad I don't do social media, it would make me too easy to find.

Anyway, back to work.

How's it looking Alpha One?

All seems well, nothing of interest.

I placed Alpha One on a roof top where he would be able to see the Limo's and people coming in from the Leicester Square tube heading down Cranbourn Street.

And you Alpha Two?

Who I'd placed on a roof where he could see the Limos leave Leicester Square via Irving street, heading back on to Charing Cross road, and people entering Leicester Square from that direction.

Nothing to report, except a shit load of people.

Well stay frosty guys, the client has had death threats recently made on the Principals life, and there worried, so much so that they brought us in, so keep your eyes open and be ready for anything. Both acknowledge.

Alpha One and Alpha Two, are two of the best snipers on the planet, and I'm lucky that they both want to work for, and with me, plus I did save their lives, once or twice.

Even though they will not shoot anyone, unless ordered or deemed necessary, they use the sights on the high powered specially made sniper rifles to keep an eye on things, even if that has nothing to with the job at hand, they're ready if something does happen.

How's the route and Principal looking Alpha Three?

Alpha three is the principal’s bodyguard until we get the principal through the doors at the Odeon, where his management team take over.

It’s all's good so far route wise, and as for the Principal, he's currently getting laid, but I have to say. He sounds a little worried. While I've been watching the hidden cameras, you placed in the Limo, good call by the way, I think he roofied her, I'm not one hundred percent, but I'm sure I saw him put something in her drink. I don't think she even knows what's going on.

What a twat. Don't worry it's being recorded by Techster, we'll view it back later, and deal with it appropriately. Are you okay to take care of her, Alpha Four?

No problem, but I would rather take care of him. Alpha Four does the driving.

Understood, we'll sort it later. When you've dropped him and Alpha Three off, go straight to Charing Cross Police Station, use the smelling salts in the med kit until she's conscious. Then show her the video of what has happened, and explain, where you are, and what your planning to do to help her. Do this as gently as you can, then take her into the police station and make sure she gets the right help, don't leave her until she feels safe enough on her own.

Are you okay to do this Alpha Four?

Roger that, I am, and we're coming onto Leicester Square, now

Techster, are you into all the CCTV cameras?

Watching and recording everything. Including what that dickhead does in the Limo.

Techster, just happens to be one of the most amazing hackers, coders and all things tech manufacturer on the planet. It's like having my own tech MacGyver.

Good, we'll need that later. Okay everyone, it’s get in the zone time.

The Limo makes its way down to the Odeon Cinema, hundreds of fans scream, shout and wave as the Limo pulls up outside the Odeon.

Just as it stops Alpha Three quickly gets out of the front passenger side of the Limo and makes his way to the back ready to open the door for the celebrity.

Over the P.A. system, and on the massive video screen the M.C., announces their arrival. And here he is, the leading man of the next biggest blockbuster of the year, and voted sexiest man alive. The one, the only. Towers McCaffrey.

Alpha Three opens the door, and Towers McCaffrey gets out to the crowd going nuts.

The blue eyed, blonde haired, six-foot streak of piss, does his merry dance for the fans.

Firstly, he heads over to the opposite side to me and the Cinema.

Alpha Four drives the Limo away with the girl in the back, unknown to everyone else, making his way on to Charring Cross road heading to the Police Station.

Meanwhile Mr. Roofie is revelling in the attention, signing autographs on all sorts of things taking pictures, selfies, whatever is needed, he obliges, even the odd tit signing and kiss,