The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) (20 page)

William,
closest to the window, took a quick sideways glance outside and saw several
black vans race through the gates toward the entrance.

The
ARU!

Depending
upon resistance, they could be there in as little as two minutes. They needed
to stall.

“Who is
in charge here?” he demanded, stepping forward, his weapon still gripped
tightly behind him. He stared past the three servants and at the half dozen men
in the room, another half dozen outside, in the hall.

One man
pushed his way forward, shouldering his weapon.

“I am.”

The man
looked young, perhaps early thirties. He had no accent, was well dressed
considering what was happening, and had an air of dignity, of pride in purpose.

And eyes
that burned red with rage.

“You
know who I am?”

“Of
course.”

“Then
may I ask your name?”

“You may
not.”

Gunfire
in the distance almost made William pause, but he continued, as if it were of
no importance, hoping their attackers would treat it the same.

“And why
might that be?”

The man
sneered at him. “Because I don’t answer to false idols.”

It
would appear to me you just did.

“False
idols?”

“All
representations of Allah’s creation of man, all monstrosities built by man then
worshipped by men, must be destroyed. Statues, sculptures, paintings, people.”

“People?”

“Those
who would pretend to be Allah’s representatives on Earth, like the infidel
Pope, or the head of the Church of England, for example.” The man stared at the
Queen over William’s shoulder, and William instinctively leaned more to his
left to block the view.

“Under
what authority do you do this?” But he already knew the answer. It would be
some insanity about Allah and Mohammad, and he also knew there would be no
rational debate.

Delay,
however.

“Under
the authority of almighty God! Under the authority of the blessed Koran,
written by Mohammad, peace be upon him, guided by the angel Gabriel, who on
Allah’s behalf provided the Holy words meant to save mankind from the
corruption of His will by those who came before, to create a world ruled by the
word of Allah, not the word of Man, to create a Caliphate the world over where
all worshipped under a single flag, the flag of Islam.”

William
debated whether or not to point out the fact that Mohammad was illiterate and
didn’t write down anything Gabriel had told him, assuming Gabriel had told him
anything, which though open minded, William found hard to believe. But he
was
open minded, raised to be so, his people of all faiths, so he had to respect
their beliefs.

But I
don’t have to respect the way they have implemented those beliefs.

“Is
Allah not merciful?”

“Blasphemy!”
roared the man, his eyes flaring with rage. “How dare an infidel use this form
of the almighty’s name? Only true Muslims may call God ‘Allah’!”

William
bowed slightly, his hands still clasped behind his back, his finger sliding
along the weapon to see if the safety was off as more gunfire erupted.

That’s
sounding closer.

“I
apologize. I wasn’t aware of the restriction. But is not
God
merciful?”

“Of
course he is. Allah is merciful to all who believe in him.”

“And is
not my god the same as your god?”

The man
frowned, but nodded. “This is true.”

“So
would he not be merciful to us as well?”

The man
smiled. “Yes, he would. If you are true believers, true followers of him, he
will be merciful, even if an infidel such as yourself. Indeed, Allah is
merciful.”

Footsteps
pounded down the hallway causing the terrorists to turn as one. Something was
barked in Arabic by their captor, and those guarding the hall opened fire, the
flashes from their muzzles causing the dimly lit hall to flicker like a
fireworks display. His captor returned to looking at William, failing to see
several of his men dropping behind him, the better trained ARU team apparently
closing in.

“So then
why not show us mercy?”

The man
chuckled.

“It is
not for me to show you mercy, it is for Allah. I am but a man, who cannot take
the place of the Almighty. It is up to Him to be merciful.”

And
William suddenly understood the logic the man was employing. He flicked his
weapon twice, signaling Harry, hoping he would pick up on it.

Two more
dropped in the hall, the footfalls closer.

“When
you die, Allah may very well be merciful.” William saw the man’s hand begin to
move, then freeze as a throat cleared behind William. He turned to see his
grandmother step forward.

“We
understand your concerns young man, but if you think you can frighten us, you
are sadly mistaken. Should we die here today, we will die free, not under the
yoke of oppression that your warping of God’s word would have us live under. In
England we have freedom of religion, and
from
religion. It is an
important distinction, that you and your kind have failed to realize. We are
free to worship as we wish, or not at all. We have separated Church and State,
which is a concept your religion does not appear to fathom. Mankind needs to be
free. We yearn for it instinctively, we were created, by God, to be free. And
free men are more powerful than any forced into service, whether it be to their
country, or to their God.

“We will
prevail in the end, no matter how many of us you kill, as we are free, and
freedom is the most important of God’s gifts, for it is life, and life without
freedom is mere existence, and existence is not what we stand for in our
country, in our Britain, or in our church. You may kill us today, but you
merely create martyrs to a cause that in the end will ultimately defeat your
ignorance and hate for all things different. Just as we learned to look at the
Bible figuratively rather than literally, you need to learn the same of your
Koran. And until you do, you will be trapped in the age it was written, never
to progress, never to advance, and
never
to succeed in your mission, a perverted
literal interpretation that has an entirely different figurative meaning.

“You
misinterpret your own holy book, sir, and it discredits you, and your cause.
You and others like you should open your eyes to the loving God we have
embraced, and cast aside this notion that killing will bring you closer to
Him.” She paused, taking another step toward the man. “But I can see by looking
into your eyes that you are not a man of reason, but a man filled with hate,
consumed with a lust for death that no words could sway.” She stepped back then
took several steps toward her chair in front of her makeup table and sat down,
her knees together and to the side, her hands resting on them.

Dignified
to the end.

William’s
eyes glassed over as he looked at her.

If
only her detractors could see her now.

During
the entire speech, there had been no rebuttal, no comment whatsoever from the
man, except an increasingly tightening jaw. The battle for the hallway was much
closer now, and he wondered if this anonymous man was remotely aware of what
was happening behind him.

Suddenly
the man raised his weapon, swinging it toward the Queen.

“No!”
yelled William as he dove toward his grandmother, his eyes focused on the
trigger as it was slowly squeezed. A shot rang out and he felt a jolt then a
searing pain in his shoulder. As he hit the ground a rapid series of shots rang
out. William felt his stomach flip and he spun toward his grandmother, but saw
she remained unscathed. His weapon still gripped in his hand, he spun toward
the gunfire, raising it, but found no one to shoot at, only his brother
standing, weapon raised, and the bodies of six dead terrorists on the floor,
those tours in Afghanistan apparently paying off.

Gunfire
from the hall ripped at the rug in front of the bed and Harry jumped to the
side, rolling to a kneeling position, weapon raised. The servants had hit the
ground and scrambled away from the line of fire. William pointed at the two on
the same side of the room as his grandmother. “Protect Her Majesty.”

They
nodded and rose, positioning themselves between their monarch and the door,
just out of the line of fire. William and Harry approached either side as the
gunfire continued in sustained bursts, tearing apart the floor and bed.

Something
metal bounced on the floor of the hallway, then there was a hissing sound, a
sound William recognized from Initial Officer Training.
Smoke grenade.
He risked a quick glance into the hall to confirm that smoke was now billowing
from a canister not twenty feet from the door. Another canister hit with a
heavier thud, the tone different from the first. He caught a glimpse and
immediately recognized it. Shoving the door closed, he yelled, “Flash bang!”

Harry’s
eyes widened as he too began to push the other side of the door closed. A
terrific explosion from the hall was followed by screams of pain as their
attackers’ senses were overwhelmed. Even William’s ears pounded from the
intense noise and he turned to check on his grandmother, and almost laughed
when he saw her primping herself in the mirror, as if nothing but a stray hair
were amiss.

There
were shouts outside, authoritative, and in English, then heavy knocking on the
door.

“Is
there anyone inside there?” asked the voice. “Your Majesty, are you okay?”

William
looked at the bodies on the floor, his grandmother rising from the mirror, her
servants, shoulders squared, in position at the center of the room, the two
doormen already prepared to take over their duties at the doors now manned by
the two brothers.

Harry
stepped back as did William, both positioning themselves in front of their
grandmother, weapons aimed at the door just in case this was a ruse.

“We are
secure in here, and are armed. We are opening the doors now.”

William
nodded at the doormen, who opened the doors a little more slowly than they
probably normally did. Smoke filled the corridor from the grenade tossed only
moments before, and William squinted to try and see through it. Red laser beams
sliced through the smoke as several black forms advanced. The first stepped
through the smoke and into the room, his weapon raised, and immediately lowered
it upon sight of his monarch and her heirs, instead training it on the bodies
on the floor. He activated his comm.

“We have
Redfern, I say again, we have Redfern, over.”

Several
more men entered the room and William lowered his weapon, as did Harry, both
audibly sighing in relief.

“Is
everyone alright?” asked the first man.

William
was about to answer when his grandmother cleared her throat. William looked
back then smiled, stepping aside as he recognized her expression, which was one
of command. The two brothers stepped back and the Queen stepped forward.

“We are
all unharmed.” She nodded at the men on the floor. “Do what you must with them,
I trust you can have this room restored to order before bed.” She looked at Harry,
then at William.

“Dinner?”

William
and Harry exchanged grins, then followed their grandmother as she stepped
around the bodies littering her bed chamber, and out into the hallway, two of
the servants bringing up the rear as the family went for their evening meal as
if nothing were amiss.

Nothing
but dignity.

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

Professor James Acton stood amongst a throng that consisted of the
entire population of the camp, all eagerly listening in on his conversation with
his friend and boss, Gregory “Corky” Milton, Dean of Saint Paul’s University.
The camp had two satellite phones, one the official phone for the camp, so it
was not being used at the moment in the event they were to receive a call about
the current situation, and the other, Laura’s private satellite phone, which
was pressed to his ear now as he repeated the parts of the conversation he knew
the others would be interested in.

“When
did it happen?”

“About
two hours ago, I think. I’m just getting up to speed on it now. They hit it
late morning.”

“Late
morning. How?”

“Details
are sketchy, but reports are saying boats might have been involved.”

“Boats?”
Acton resisted back chair quarterbacking, and instead tried to focus on the
facts. “Is she—” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t bring himself to say the
words.

“Yes.
Destroyed pretty much.” His friend paused, and Acton knew he was trying to
control his emotions. “God, Jim, it’s the saddest thing I’ve seen since the
towers fell, and this time there’s nowhere near the casualties, but, there’s
something about it being
her
that makes it so hard to look at.”

Acton
felt a lump form in his throat, and he squeezed his free hand into a fist, his
fingernails digging into his palm as he struggled to maintain control.

“Casualties?”

“They’ve
pulled at least fifty bodies out so far, they expect a lot more.”

“At
least fifty dead,” he said to the gathered group, which was greeted with gasps
and some cries. “What else is going on?”

“They
hit Buckingham Palace at exactly the same time, late afternoon there.”

“And?”

“A lot
of casualties, but apparently the royal family is okay. Prince William was shot
saving the Queen, but he’ll be fine.”

Acton
turned to Laura, then looked at her cadre of British students. “They attacked
Buckingham Palace. There were a lot of casualties”—more gasps and cries—“but
the royal family is okay. Prince William was shot saving his grandmother”—one
girl collapsed, as did Terrence—“but he’ll be okay.”