by David Archer
The candidates all smiled and nodded, indicating their understanding of the instructions. The Lord Chamberlain stepped out of the room and waved to Albert, to let him know that it was time for the ceremony to begin.
* * * * *
“All right, everything is ready now,” Albert said to the earpieces. “Here we go.”
The Lord Chamberlain walked onto the dais and stood in the center, facing the queen.
“Your Majesty,” he said, and then he turned to face the gallery, “and our distinguished guests. We are most delighted to have you here, and hope that you enjoy seeing your friends and family receiving their honors. The ceremony is now about to begin, so we ask everyone to please remain silent. Applause is acceptable after each investiture, but we ask you to keep it to a minimum.”
A moment later, with cameras flashing and video cameras running, the first name was called, and a tall, distinguished-looking man came through a doorway on the side of the dais and approached the queen. He knelt in front of her and she touched him on each shoulder with the sword that was handed to her, then gave it back to the Chamberlain and picked up the insignia that indicated knighthood. The man got to his feet and she affixed the insignia before touching his arm and smiling as they chatted quietly for a moment.
It lasted only a minute, and then the man stepped back, turned and made his exit to polite applause. Another name was called, and it began again.
It would happen at any moment, Noah thought. If Tushar was going to strike, if he were actually going to unleash the deadly poison he had persuaded Embry to create, it would probably happen within the first few minutes of such a grand ceremony. As he knew they all were doing, Noah kept his eyes moving, scanning throughout the Abbey for even a hint of what was about to come.
A second knighthood was granted, and the queen took an extra few seconds chatting with this one. When she was done, he also stepped back and turned, but this time there was a bit more applause.
Sam was trying to watch everything and was becoming frustrated with the impossibility. To force himself to relax, he focused on a little girl who was in the audience. She reminded him of Kenzie, and he watched her closely for a few seconds to try to force himself to tamp down his stress and frustration.
Like a lot of children, she was impatient. She was trying to get the gift bag out of her mother’s hand, but Mommy wasn’t having any of it. The harder the little girl pulled, the harder Mommy held on and frowned.
Sam almost chuckled. He was quite sure, had it been him, that he would’ve ignored the rules that forbade eating anything during the ceremony and let the child have the bag to get a piece of candy.
It hit him suddenly. Candy. The gift bags contained candy and nuts, treats for after the ceremony. Sam looked around the gallery and saw that many of the people were holding the gift bags in their hands, but many more must have set them down.
The Touch of Death, in its liquid form, only had to touch the skin to be absorbed into the bloodstream. In the powdered form, it could be taken into the lungs, or through the eyes.
What if it were inserted into a candy? What if it were mixed directly into something like chocolate, which was then molded into a shape and wrapped in foil? What would happen when you put that into your mouth?
Many years earlier, when he was only a teenager, Sam had learned an interesting trick. You could take the strongest person you could find and have them demonstrate their strength, and then take it away in a matter of seconds. All it required was to put a pinch of sugar under the tongue. The sugar was instantly absorbed into the bloodstream, and in less than a couple of seconds, it reduced the ability of the muscles to maintain their normal strength. It passed within a few seconds, but it made for an interesting party trick.
Chocolate melts in the mouth. Some of it would get under the tongue, undoubtedly, and be absorbed into the bloodstream.
Some of the gift bags were sitting not far away, intended for some of the staff members. Sam stepped over and picked one of them up, then looked inside. There were a few pieces of candy and a couple of bags of nuts, but then he saw a slip of paper and pulled it out.
Her Majesty thanks you for your attendance, and offers this gift in appreciation. Inside, you will find treats provided by Lansdowne Nut Company; Wimbledon Chocolates; Royal Splendor Mints; Cardigan Bay Nuts; and Essex Licorice.
Sam spilled the bag out into his hand. There were the nuts from Lansdowne, the chocolates from Wimbledon, the mints, the nuts from Cardigan Bay, and the licorice, and then there was the…
There was another chocolate in the bag, one wrapped in yellow foil. There was no name on the label, but only an image. A sword, crossed by a pair of lightning bolts. It was the kind of symbol that one would use for war.
Or for jihad.
Sam spun toward Noah, who was a dozen feet away. The motion caught Noah’s eye, and he stared at Sam for only a second before hurrying toward him.
“Noah, it’s the candy,” Sam said. “I’m sure of it, the Touch of Death is in the candies in the gift bags. Everybody has them, that’s the only way he could possibly try to kill everyone here.”
Noah looked around the gallery, seeing all of the little white gift bags that were still clutched in hands or sitting on the floor beside feet. Without even a second’s hesitation, he brought his wrist up and spoke into the microphone that was affixed to it.
“Albert, we believe the poison is in the gift bags. If anyone eats any, they’re likely to die and may even be able to infect people next to them.”
“Dear God, we overlooked it,” Albert said. A moment later, there was a commotion as he came running onto the dais, interrupting the queen as she affixed another insignia.
“Your Majesty, please forgive me,” he said, and then he picked up the microphone that was laying on the floor beside her. He turned and faced the gallery. “Ladies and gentlemen, I need your attention, please. We have reason to believe that a terrorist organization may have poisoned the candies in your gift bags. Please, we ask you to set them down and leave them untouched. Some of our people will collect them all, and will get your names. I’m certain we will be happy to replace them for you, but it is urgent that you do not eat anything from inside them.”
There was confusion in the gallery as people set the bags down quickly. Everyone had heard of the recent poisonings, and the very mention of poison in such a situation made them think of the quick-acting death that had struck so many people.
Denny grabbed Sam’s arm. “Sam, he’s here,” he said. “Remember what a grandstander he was? If he put the poison in the bloody candies, then he would know not to eat it. There’s no way he would pass up the opportunity to see his handiwork. He’s here, Sam, I’m sure of it.”
Sam stared at him for only a second, then spoke into the microphone on his own wrist. “This is Sam Prichard,” he said. “Seal all exits, immediately. We have reason to believe that Tushar Balakrishnan is in the building. Seal all exits, right now.”
The place was suddenly rocked with the sound of doors slamming, and people were beginning to panic. The queen’s guards had moved onto the dais and surrounded her, encouraging her to leave the dais immediately, but she was refusing.
Sam and Denny were looking around, trying to spot anyone acting suspicious enough to be Tushar. Unfortunately, a lot of people were trying to get to the exits and were being held back by police and MI5 operatives. With everyone trying to leave, it was difficult to determine who might be considered to be acting suspiciously, but then Sam noticed the policeman.
There was one policeman who was standing near the main front doors, and he kept glancing toward them. He was telling people to stay back, just as he was supposed to be, but Sam noticed that his attention seemed to be focused on the doors.
He was tall, and athletically built. Sam touched Denny’s arm and indicated the policeman with a nod of his head.
“Could be him,” Denny said. “Right size, definitely more interested in those doors than he is in doing h
is job.”
Sam looked around. “Cut down the sides,” he said. “I’ll take this side, you take the other. Let’s see if we can close in on him and find out if that’s a mask he’s wearing.”
The two of them moved quickly, sliding behind guests to stay close to the walls. It took a couple of minutes for each of them to get near the front of the building. Denny got there first. He held back and waited for Sam to appear on the other side, and then both of them started toward the policeman at the same time.
The air conditioning system wasn’t working as well on that end of the building, and Sam noticed that it was hot down there. Apparently, the policeman was feeling it as well, because he reached up and ran a finger around his collar. He wiped at his neck for a second, as if trying to wipe away the sweat, but then he looked at his hand.
And that’s when Sam saw that the rubber around the neck was starting to come loose, probably because of the sweat building up under it. He walked a little faster, then, one hand touching the wall to help him keep his balance on his bad hip, but that’s what gave him away.
Tushar—Sam was certain of it now—looked directly at Sam, and recognition flooded the brown eyes. He turned and looked the other way and saw Denny coming, as well, and took off running. He couldn’t get to the doors, so he started toward the dais, shoving panicking people out of the way as he tried to get as far away from Denny and Sam as he could.
“Sam? What’s going on?” Noah’s voice came to the earpiece.
Sam raised his wrist and spoke into the microphone. “The policeman running up the center, that’s Tushar! That’s him!”
Tushar looked back and saw them coming, then, and tried to increase his pace. There was a door off to the right, and at least for a moment, there was no one who appeared to be guarding it. He turned toward it, and Sam might have gotten to him in time, but Tushar shoved a young girl backward and Sam ran into her. His hip gave out and he went down, and Tushar made it out the small emergency exit.
“I’ve got him,” Noah shouted to Sam as he rushed through the door behind his quarry. Denny followed, and the two of them saw Tushar running down the side of the building for all he was worth.
One of the many police officers saw them running and stepped in front of Tushar, ordering him to halt. Instead, Tushar ran head-on into him, knocking him to the ground and stumbling over him, but managing to grab the pistol he was carrying and snatch it away. He ran a few more steps, then turned and pointed the weapon at Noah. He squeezed the trigger repeatedly, and the bullets flew past Noah.
Noah had snatched his pistol out as he ran and quickly fired three shots back at the terrorist.
One of those shots made contact, catching Tushar in the hip and spinning him around. He dropped his own weapon as he fell to the ground, pressing a hand over the wound. Noah closed the distance between them and kicked away his gun, then pointed his own pistol into Tushar’s face as he reached down and yanked away the mask.
Tushar looked up at him and tried to smile. “You’re too late,” he said. “You and everyone else, it’s too late for you. You may have stopped me from making a statement, but you cannot prevent the destruction of London.”
Noah stared into his eyes for a moment, then lifted his foot and put it on Tushar’s shattered hip. He pressed down hard, and the terrorist let out a scream.
“Maybe it is too late,” Noah said, “but at least I can make you suffer for a while. Or you can tell me what you’re talking about, and your suffering can end.” He ground his foot onto the hip again, and Tushar screamed once more, his eyes bugging out as he stared up at Noah. He held on for a few seconds, but then he waved a hand at Noah, begging for relief.
“All right, all right,” he said. “I’ll tell you, because it won’t matter anyway. There’s nothing you can do to stop it, it’s far too late for that.”
Noah lifted his foot, but kept it hovering over the hip. “Tell me what you mean,” he said. “Now.”
And then Tushar began to laugh. “It really doesn’t matter if you kill me now,” he said. “I was planning to make my own escape, and had everything ready. Now, I shall die with you in any event, and Allah will reward me. I shall sit in his right hand for all eternity, and another will rise to take my place here on earth.” He stopped talking for a moment and closed his eyes, turning his head from side to side. “Do you hear it? Do you hear the sound of the engine? It’s an airplane, and when it flies over the Abbey a few minutes hence, the pilot will pull a lever. That lever, he believes, will cause him to leave a cloud of sparkling dust behind, and he shall spread it throughout the city. By the time he lands, most of London will already be dead, and he won’t even know that he was the instrument at the destruction. When he figures it out—well, you never know, he might be the sort who can live with himself.”
That was when Noah caught the sound of the engine. A single engine plane, one of those that used to pull banners through the air or do sky writing with smoke trails. Instinctively, he turned his head and looked, and saw its shiny, aluminum skin winking in the sunlight.
Noah looked back at Tushar and squeezed his trigger once. Tushar’s head exploded as Noah turned toward the east, where the plane was banking as it turned to approach the Abbey.
“Hey,” Noah heard a voice call, and turned to see Denny sitting on the ground behind him. “Can I get a bit of help, here, mate?”
“Are you hit?” Noah called out, but then Sam and Albert came out the same door Noah had chased Tushar through.
“Yeah, a bit,” Denny said. “I took one through the shoulder, but it’s through and through.” He looked up as Sam got to him and smiled. “Oh, hi, Sam,” he said, and then he fainted.
“We have a problem,” Noah said, reaching them. He turned and pointed toward the airplane. “Tushar’s dying words,” he said. “That airplane is loaded with the dust, and will dump it as it flies over the Abbey.”
Sam stared at him for a moment, then looked off toward the aircraft. The light reflecting off its skin was sparkling, but all Sam could see was the specter of death coming toward him with its scythe outstretched.
Albert was staring open-mouthed at the airplane, but then he suddenly turned and looked up toward the top of the building. Noah followed his gaze and saw the snipers they positioned on the roof just as Albert raised his wrist and spoke into his microphone.
“Rooftop spotters,” he said, “do you see the airplane approaching?”
Both of the snipers Noah could see turned and looked off toward the sound of the engine. “Affirmative, sir,” came the reply to the earphones.
“Shoot it down!” Albert shouted into the microphone. “It’s loaded with the poison dust, you’ve got to shoot it down!”
Both snipers suddenly dropped to a kneeling position and raised their weapons. They were obviously professionals, because they held back as they made minor adjustments to the scopes on the rifles. Noah looked at the airplane, which was getting closer with every second.
Sam was also watching it, thinking that he would never get to go home and see his wife and children again. His thoughts went to all of the people he had been working with, and at that moment, he would’ve given anything to be able to give his own life to protect them all. He watched, waiting for the dust to begin blowing out of the aircraft, the dust that would end the lives of untold tens of thousands.
BOOM! BOOM!
Both snipers fired, and the rifles bucked. Each of them worked his bolt and fired again, and then again, and then again.
Sam, Noah and Albert stood where they were and stared at the approaching airplane, but it was coming straight toward the church. Shooting down even a small plane with just a rifle was nearly impossible, but the snipers continued to try.
BOOM!
There wouldn’t be time for another shot, Sam knew, because the airplane was no more than a thousand yards out. That last bullet, the last hope they had, flew out of the barrel of the rifle and sped on its way, but Sam knew there was no hope. He stood there an
d stared at the airplane, refusing to close his eyes even as death came to claim him.
There it was. The stream of dust began flying out from under the airplane, meaning it was all over. Sam felt tears running down his face as he saw it, and wondered if he had time to call Indie and say goodbye.
The airplane lurched suddenly and canted over to the left. The engine sounded strained, suddenly, as if it was barely able to keep running. As they watched, the plane began losing altitude and then suddenly rolled over onto its back and dived straight down. They could tell the pilot was trying to wrestle the controls, trying to get it back into level flight, but something was obviously wrong.
That wasn’t dust trailing behind it; it was the smoke from the engine, which had been hit. Oil, gushing from the engine, was streaming along the exhaust pipe and burning, leaving a trail of white smoke.
At the last possible second, the plane rolled over again so that it was upright when it struck the water in the Thames, but even the water landing couldn’t save it. The wings tore off and a spark from the wiring ignited the fuel that was gushing everywhere. A massive fireball rose up from the river, and then the plane began to sink beneath the fuel that burned atop the water.
Sam turned and looked at Noah. “Are we—I mean, did it…”
Noah shook his head. “It was supposed to dump when it went over the Abbey,” he said. “It never got here, so it never dumped the dust.”
Sam looked back at the burning river. “But all that poison, it’s probably getting into the water…”
“Yes, and that’s a good thing,” Noah said. “You see, Sam, the Thames is not a true river. It’s actually an offshoot of the ocean, and it’s salt water.”
EPILOGUE
It took a couple of hours to get everything sorted out, but at last it was done. All of the gift bags were collected, and Gilbert in the lab at SIS HQ was able to confirm that the chocolates were made with Touch of Death as a minor ingredient. Each square of chocolate contained less than a a tenth of a single milligram of the poison, but it was more than enough to kill anyone who might have ingested it.
