CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
That was a bomb! What’s Ardelean doing?”
Nicholas said to his father, “He’s driving them. He thinks security is following protocol and taking the president, the Queen, and the P.M. to the river.”
Harry said, “So if he came in the Terrace Pavilion, he might still be there. Let’s go. I’ll follow you.”
Nicholas hit his comms. “Ben, you have Melinda safe?”
“I do. Go ahead. We’re fine here. The drones are still attacking, but the worst is over. There are some inside buzzing around, but we’ve been shooting them down. It’s like the Wild West in here. Sounds like the response outside is knocking those back, too.”
“Copy. Adam?”
“I’m watching the terrace, but I don’t see him. Parliament’s internal security system isn’t working—he’s jammed the cameras. Oh yeah, Ardelean punched in a program that’s halted the subway cars in their tracks. The entire tube system grid is offline.”
Nicholas closed his eyes at that news, imagined the chaos underground. Nothing he could do about it. “Okay, Ardelean’s here, I can feel him.”
They started off at a jog. Mike was limping, couldn’t help it, and Nicholas pulled up short.
She said, “Let’s go, it’s nothing. I twisted it back in the tunnel. Go, Nicholas, we don’t have time to waste.”
His warrior. They set off again, Mike on his heels, gritting her teeth against the pain.
The terrace pavilion was on the opposite side of the building. Security was thick, but, with Harry, they quickly passed through every checkpoint. It took ten minutes to get to the terrace with its stunning view of the river. They saw falcons and drones still swooping and diving, but not attacking.
“You’re right. He’s here. The birds are waiting for him.”
Nicholas took them to a door tucked away in the corner of the Commons library. “If I’m right, he’s going to be on the other side of this door.”
Harry said, “He’ll have those small drones with him.”
They heard the loud voices of people coming. Nicholas quickly called Ben. “Keep everyone back. Stay in the Commons Chamber.”
“Too much smoke, people are freaking out. We need to get them out.”
“Then don’t come toward the river. Lead people south, toward the House of Lords. And watch out for drones.”
“Copy that.”
“Okay. Now, we need a diversion.”
Mike pulled a thick book from the nearest shelf. “Sir, is this one really important?”
Harry shrugged. “They’re all important, but it’s better than sticking our heads in.”
The terrace river entrance was on the bottom floor. They crept down the library stairs, into a kitchen that fed onto the terrace, Mike with the book in her hand. At the door to the terrace, Nicholas raised his hand. He took the book from Mike, waited for her to get into position with her Glock, her back against the wall. An M4 would be better, but it would be too unwieldy in the tight space. He motioned his father to stay back.
Nicholas put a hand on the door handle, signaled with his fingers three, two, one, then threw the door open and tossed the book into the dark space beyond.
Mike came through right after him, her gun up.
It was dark, too dark, but she heard the faint whir of a drone. She shot toward the sound, into the dark, and the whirring stopped.
One down.
She heard the flap of wings and was ready when the falcon slammed into her. She struck it in the chest with her fist. The bird wheeled back, not hurt, but surprised. Suddenly there was light in the room, the switch turned on by Harry, and they saw Ardelean wasn’t there.
And then Nicholas realized where he was. “Westminster Hall, he’s in the hall! He’s got a whole army of drones with him. He was trying to herd everyone there. Up the stairs, up the stairs!” Nicholas took off, straight up the stairs into Westminster Hall.
Ardelean was standing with his back to them, arms spread wide.
Above him, motionless, were hundreds of drones.
His falcon saw them, though, and shrieked a warning. Ardelean turned slowly, stared at Nicholas.
He said, “Drummond, how nice of you to come before all those rapacious grasping criminals come flooding in here, believing they’ll be safe from me. It saves me the trouble of tracking you down. Do you know, I believe it’s time for you to die. Like my brother.”
The small drone moved into position by Ardelean’s shoulder, but before it could fire, Nicholas shouted a command at the falcon, a word he’d overheard Ardelean scream to his falcon that made it attack Mike.
“Obţine! Obţine!”
The falcon wheeled in midair and went after the small drone, shrieking, talons out. She whipped the drone to the floor, then flew after another, then another, before dropping to the stone floor, exhausted wings spread. She looked to her master for a reward, confused when there was no fresh meat coming.
Instead, Ardelean screamed in rage. “No!” He yelled for the falcon to attack, but the bird faltered, confused by two masters yelling at her.
Ardelean pulled a stiletto and hurled it at Nicholas, but Mike shoved Nicholas hard. The knife struck deep into the wall an inch from his head.
“No!” Roman screamed again, a death cry, and came at them.
“Stop!” Mike yelled at him.
But he didn’t. He was no longer thinking, he was a missile set on his course.
Nicholas fired, catching Roman in the throat. He spun in place, then crumpled to the ground almost at Nicholas’s feet.
Nicholas yanked the wrist communicator off Roman’s arm and smashed it to the ground, stomping on it for good measure.
The drone army dropped to the floor.
“Arlington,” Roman whispered, the name slurred in blood frothing from his mouth. The bird flew to his side, cheeping, hovering over him. His arm lifted, and Arlington stepped onto her master’s fist for the last time. He stroked the bird once, then his hand fell to his side. His head fell backward, his sightless eyes staring at the ceiling.
No one moved as the bird began to keen, a sound that made the hair on their necks stand up. They watched silently as the bird hopped on her master’s body, paced up and down, nudged his head, his arm, flapping her great wings, as if to protect him. She looked back at Nicholas for a moment, and he would swear he saw something primal and vicious in her eyes before she hopped forward, and her sharp talons ripped a chunk out of Ardelean’s throat.