The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) (19 page)

“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 guards 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 chambers, 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!”

He
smiled. “Or she, is old enough, that her daddy loved her. And Darling?”

“Yes?”

“I will
always love you, and be watching over you.”

She
finally lost control, her sobs wreaking havoc on his own self-control.
Sustained gunfire and several cries on the other side of the door ended his
moment of self-pity.

“I have
to go, my dear. I will call you as soon as it is over. I love you.”

“I love
you too.”

He hung
up the phone, and looked about the room. The servants, experts at disguising
their emotions were looking elsewhere as if nothing were amiss, Harry continued
to examine his leg uselessly, and his grandmother looked at him with a slight
smile. She held out her hand.

Suddenly
there was pounding on the door with shouts in English and Arabic to open it.
This got a reaction from the room. The servants looked about, unsure what to
do. Harry rose to his feet, readying his weapon, and his grandmother rose,
still holding his hand.

“Dignity,
everyone, dignity.”

She
positioned herself at the center of the room, Harry and William on either side
of her, their weapons clasped behind their backs. She nodded at the servants.

The
doors were opened, and the servants stepped back, positioning themselves in
front of their Royal Highness, their bravery not lost on William as they stared
down the dozen men, unarmed, guns pointed at them as they surged into the room.