It was Reading, taking control.
“Who did it?” he managed, as he neared Terrence.
“Early reports say Islamic fundamentalists. It’s just happening now. London is still happening!”
“What’s happening in London?” asked Reading, but before Terrence had a chance to answer, Laura burst from the tent.
“They’re attacking Buckingham Palace!”
Reading and the cadre of British students gasped.
“The Queen!” exclaimed one of the girls, who had to be held up by a classmate.
“Is she there?” asked another.
Laura nodded, her voice cracking.
“They’re all there.”
Buckingham Palace, London, England
William lay on the bed, one leg crossed over the other, hands clasped behind his head, eyes closed as his wife busied herself in the mirror. He didn’t see the need for makeup—he thought she was beautiful just the way she was, but she always insisted on looking her best, especially when seeing Grandmother. There was no arguing with her, not that he would.
Especially with that baby bump growing every day.
Me! A father!
It was shocking how quickly things were happening. He knew nothing was happening fast enough for the public, but that was to be expected. He tried to ignore the pressures from the public, and completely ignored the press, his morning news briefings provided by staff who vetted the papers of anything “Royals” related.
“How do I look?”
He opened his eyes and pushed himself up on his elbows, then smiled.
“Absolutely fab,” he said, then added with a wink, “as always.”
Kate did a quick curtsey and motioned for him to get off the bed. William swung his feet off the bed and onto the floor, then grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his ear against her stomach, listening for the tiny heartbeat inside.
“Can you hear him?”
“I think so.”
He pulled back slightly then placed his forehead on her stomach.
“Someday, you’ll be King.”
“Or Queen!”
He kissed his wife’s stomach then stood up, giving her a peck on the forehead, not daring mess up her carefully drawn lips. He puffed out his chest, pushed his shoulders back, and stuck his left elbow out, his hand on his hip.
“Shall we, my dear?”
Kate looked at him, desperately trying to keep a straight face, finally losing the battle with a burst of laughter that quickly infected him. Recovered, she took his arm, then he did a walk that would have been worthy of the Ministry of Silly Walks, which had her gasping for breath again.
“Stop, Will, please, or I’ll give birth right now!”
William snapped to attention, grabbed the door knob, then looked at her red face, tears threatening to spoil her makeup. He let out the breath he had been holding, and offered her his handkerchief.
“Time to be serious,” he said, his smile gentle so as not to elicit any further laughter.
Kate took the handkerchief and dabbed the corners of her eyes, the red quickly subsiding, but her cheeks retaining a healthy glow. He pulled open the door and two palace guards snapped to attention. Having grown up with them all his life, he had long ago stopped wondering how much they heard through the thin doors, but his wife hadn’t.
Which had led to the order that at night, the guards were to position themselves down the hall, otherwise the baby the public so desperately wanted, might never have happened.
A loud noise had him immediately thinking of a car crash, but to hear it in here would mean it would be on the palace grounds, which was nearly impossible unless somebody had done something spectacularly stupid.
He rushed to the window, fingers crossed, hoping his brother wasn’t about to make the papers again. He gasped at what he saw. Below, it appeared a breakdown lorry with a ramp had run into the east gate, the reinforced barrier holding.
There’s no way this is an accident.
And as if to confirm it, three cars that had stopped at the scene suddenly emptied of their occupants, who rushed up the ramp of the wrecked truck, and jumped over the fence to the palace grounds below.
And they were all armed.
He spun on his heel and pointed at one of the guards.
“We’re under attack. Get the princess to safety immediately.”
“What about you, sir?” asked the guard, readying his weapon.
“I need to get to Her Majesty. They’ll be after her.”
“Will, no, come with me!”
William shook his head, taking his beloved wife in his arms for what he prayed wouldn’t be the last time. He kissed the top of her head. “You need to protect our child. Go with them. I’ll be along shortly.”
She nodded, and he turned to the guards.
“You have your orders, now go!”
The two guards snapped to attention, then nearly carried Kate away as her reluctant legs refused to cooperate. William turned down the hall and saw his brother Harry poke his head out the door.
“What in blazes is going on?” he asked, wearing nothing but trousers and an undershirt.
“We’re under attack!” replied William. He pointed at one of the guards manning his brother’s door. “Weapon.”
Without hesitation the man tossed his L85A1 rifle to the Prince as Harry grabbed the other guard’s weapon.
“Where’s Kate?”
“They’re taking her to the safe room.”
“Plan?”
“Get to Grandmother, then Father.”
“Let’s do it.”
William turned to the guards. “You’re with us. Cover our sixes.”
The men nodded, their sidearms already out. The foursome rushed forward, soon meeting up with other guards and staff. William recognized one of the senior staff, Reginald Tucker, and waved him over.
“Status?”
“I’m not certain, sir.”
“Why has no one raised the alarm?”
“The alarm? Why on Earth would we do that, sir? It’s just a car accident, isn’t it?”
As if to underline the uninformed character of the question, gunfire erupted outside. Tucker blanched.
Christ, no one is preparing!
“At least one dozen hostiles are over the fence and on the grounds. This is a terrorist attack.”
He pointed at a guard standing nearby. “Who has a radio?”
A guard stepped forward, holding his radio out. “Here, sir.”
“This is Flight Lieutenant Wales. The palace is under attack by at least twelve armed hostiles. Sound the alarm, protect Her Majesty at all costs. I repeat, this is Flight Lieutenant Wales. We are under attack by at least twelve armed hostiles. Sound the alarm, protect Her Majesty, over.”
He tossed the radio back to the guard as a klaxon began to sound through the halls. Shouts and cries began to spread around them as panic set in, and more gunfire was heard outside.
William pointed at Tucker who had blanched considerably more.
“Where is Her Majesty?”
“She’s preparing for dinner, sir.”
“And father?”
“He and the Duchess are not on the grounds. They left earlier for the Prince’s Trust banquet, sir.”
Thank the Lord for that.
William’s head spun as gunfire, heavy and steady, echoed through the halls from outside. He looked back at Tucker. “Follow your escape plan.”
Tucker stood frozen, pale as the marble columns of the entrance.
William grabbed his shoulder and shook. “Reggie! Snap out of it. Go! You know what to do! Your staff are relying on you!”
Tucker suddenly stared at the prince, then nodded his head, a little color returning as he took a breath. William shoved him in the direction of the escape route, then pointed at the guards around him.
“You’re with us. We must save Her Majesty. To her chambers!”
Two of the guard
s took point, racing down the hallway as an explosion erupted behind them. Over the radio there was a squelch then a near panicked voice.
“They’ve breached the main entrance. I say again, the main entrance has been breach—”
Gunfire erupted over the speaker, and from behind them, and William knew the man delivering the report was most likely dead. More explosions from behind them, and reports of a second breach merely urged them on faster. There were only six of them. He, his brother Harry who ran at his side, and the four guards they had managed to collect. He knew Grandmother would have equivalent to a platoon within earshot. They would be able to protect her from being taken hostage, or shot, but his fear was explosives.
These would most likely be suicide bombers, and if they had enough explosives with them, they could take out an entire section of the palace, killing everyone inside.
As if to punctuate his thoughts, a terrific explosion rocked the palace, bringing everyone to a halt as smoke and debris flew from the front gate. The tow truck that he had seen earlier had pulled away, and now the gate was off its hinges, the entrance now completely clear. A bus roared around the Queen Victoria Memorial and through the gutted gate, surging toward the front entrance of the massive palace, the vehicle’s windows filled with faces.
Oh my God!
“Call it in!” he ordered as they resumed their sprint. He heard the guard begin to speak but get cut off as another higher priority signal came through.
“Main entrance has been lost. Concentrate all fire on the bus in the courtyard!”
William looked out the window and saw men, all armed, streaming off the bus. He skidded to a halt and threw open the windows, taking aim and squeezing off controlled bursts of fire, taking out several of the men as windows flew open around him, his brother and the other guards raining fire down on the men as they tried to leave the bus.
Fire was quickly returned from within the bus through smashed out windows, causing William to duck behind the wall separating his window from Harry’s. He pointed at the two guards to his right. “You two aim at the bus windows, the rest at the targets. Go!”
The guards to his right opened up, and he spun around, emptying what remained of his clip on the men surging from the vehicle, the rest doing the same. He took cover again.
“Clip!”
“Here, sir!”
A clip was tossed from his left, another to his brother, and he spun back at the window, his weapon at the ready.
But it was too late. All the men were either dead, wounded, or already inside the building.
Bloody hell!
“We’ve done all we can here, let’s get to Her Majesty!”
Their sprint resumed as William reassessed the situation. He knew a dozen had arrived in the initial assault, and the bus could have brought dozens more. At least a dozen, if not a score were taken out by his team, but dozens more could have gained entry.
We don’t stand a chance.
His chest tightened at the implications. If the Queen were murdered by terrorists, Middle Eastern terrorists by all appearances, the streets would be drenched in blood. No visible minority, Muslim or otherwise, would be safe. The British people would rise up and avenge the death of their monarch, and his father, who would become King, who he had no doubt would urge the populace to remain calm, would most likely be powerless to stop it. Hundreds if not thousands of innocents could die.
Which was exactly what these maniacs wanted.
They wanted to trigger a reaction exactly as he feared, and then proclaim to an outraged Muslim world that the West was anti-Islamic and to rise up and fight back.
He was sick of the constant fighting, the wars, the bombings, the plots. He knew as a future king he needed to be accepting of all his people, no matter what faith, but why, why must one religion constantly cause all of the problems?
He shook the thought from his head as he glanced out the window he had just passed and noticed the police arriving, pushing the curious public back.
But when will the Armed Response Units arrive?
They rounded the final corner as shots rang out behind them. Harry yelped and fell to the ground. No! William grabbed his brother by the collar and pulled him around the corner and to safety, as the four guards they were with split to either side of the corridor and returned fire.
“Where are you hit?”
“Left leg,” winced Harry. “I don’t think it’s too bad, just shocked me, that’s all.”
William pulled Harry’s trousers up and saw the wound. He breathed a sigh of relief as it was barely bleeding. “Just a graze,” he said, pulling the pant leg back down. “Now get up, and stop slowing us down,” said William with a smile.
Harry mouthed an obscenity and held up his hand. William pulled his brother to his feet, then turned to the guards. “Hold this corridor as long as you can, use your ammo sparingly. We will carry on to Her Majesty’s chambers. Fall back to our position should it be necessary.”
“Yes, sir!” returned the chorus, and William, with Harry’s arm draped over his shoulder, hurried toward the room at the end of the hall. Four guards stood at the ready, their weapons out, concerned but professional expressions etched on their faces.
“Report,” ordered William as he handed his brother off to one of the men.
“Her Majesty is secure in her chambers, however we cannot hold this position for long against superior numbers, sir.”
“Where are the others?”
“They were sent to investigate what happened.”
“What?”
“By Her Majesty’s orders, sir.”
William frowned, but held his tongue.
“Evacuation?”
“She refuses, sir,” replied the guard with a hint of pride and frustration in his voice.
“What?” exclaimed Harry. “Is she daft?”
William’s eyes darted at Harry, who mumbled an apology.
“Explain,” he said.
“She refuses to flee her home in the face of terrorists. She said she will confront them here, and if it is her time to die, then may God take her as a Queen, and not a coward, fleeing for safety.”
William’s chest surged with pride then tightened with concern at the words of the fierce monarch he respected and loved. He knocked twice on the door, and the double-doors swung open in response, two servants standing on either side pulling them aside.
“Princes William and Harry, Your Majesty.”
William turned as a heavy burst of sustained gunfire echoed down the hall. One of the guards dropped, writhing in pain, his comrade pulling him out of the way.
“Can you hold?” yelled William down the hall.
“Negative, sir, there’s too many!”
William looked about, but there was no cover here. Unfortunately the best cover was at the position they had just left. At least there they had walls to take refuge behind. Here was an open corridor with doors, and hiding on the other side of the doors was futile, they would be opened within seconds.
And if he knew his grandmother, she would never agree to the possibility of a gun battle in her chambers.
He squared his jaw, a decision made.
“You, give your sidearm and any clips to Harry,” he said to one of the men, who immediately complied. Harry handed over the rifle he had been using. The soldier removed the clip, then tossed the weapon aside. William pointed to another. “Side arm, clips.” He exchanged weapons, pocketing the clips, then pointed to the four men still holding the end of the hall. “Reinforce them. Hold them off as long as you can. Conserve your ammo as best as possible. Remember, we just need to delay them until reinforcements arrive. If you need to retreat, then do so, but away from these chambers. We don’t want a gun battle in this direction, a stray bullet is liable to hit Her Majesty. Now go!” he said with a wave of his hand.
“Yes, sir!” echoed the men as they charged toward the defensive position that was again taking heavy fire.
William entered the ch
ambers, his brother already sitting on a settee, his leg up, wincing as he examined it. He looked up. “What’s the situation?”
“Not good. Their position is about to be overwhelmed, then there’ll be nothing between them and us but this door.”
“Alternate routes?”
William shook his head, then turned to his grandmother. “Grandmother, there wouldn’t happen to be any secret passages out of here?”
She finished fixing her hair then turned in her chair. “None we would want to use, we assure you.”
William smiled, her expression one of determination, but not a hint of resignation at their soon to be fate. She was every bit the queen, every bit the monarch, every bit the grandmother he knew and loved, and that the public expected her to be. Dignified. Brave. And kowtowing to no one.
She was Britain.
And Britain would never yield.
William picked up the phone sitting nearby, and dialed his wife’s cellphone. It picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard her worried voice.
“Kate, darling, are you okay?”
“Oh thank God, William, I’m fine, we’re in the shelter. What about you, where are you?”
“We’re with Grandmother. Tell them to send armed units to her chambers when they arrive.”
He heard her muffled voice yelling the order to someone, the phone momentarily covered. There was a shuffling noise then her intoxicating voice returned.
“I’ve told them. Will you be okay?”
The truth? Or a white lie? He clenched his jaw tight. The truth. It was what he had always been taught to tell as a child, a soldier, and a Prince.
“I don’t know. Harry is here with me and several servants. We have eight royal guards holding them off, but they are running out of ammo, and are greatly outnumbered. I just don’t know.” He could hear her breaths, quick and halted as she sobbed, trying to stifle the sounds for his benefit. “Be brave, my darling. But if something should happen—”
“It won’t.”
“But if it should, tell our child when he—”
“Or she!”
The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 14
