blast. The other two with gauss rifles and pistols were down, but there was one more… the one who had been watching from the park when the attack unfolded.
He had been looking out the window at the time, studying the snow-lined trees and walls, thinking how nice it would be to wander through the gardens with Ciara after the ballet. Just a quiet, romantic moonlight walk in the snow-covered park to finish the evening; that was what he had been thinking. The sight of the watcher with a gauss rifle slung over his shoulder was so unexpected that he did a double take at the image. Before he could yell a warning, the truck hit them and it became a jumbled mess of noise, pain and screams. That man was still out there now, the fourth amongst however many other attackers.
Pushing to the rear of the limousine and the now dead female assassin, he kicked the pistol away from her lifeless fingers. Swivelling eyes around he looked quickly for signs of where the fourth attacker was hiding. Seeing no sign of the man or Ciara, only an ever growing number of onlookers, he slid back down to the road’s icy surface. There was only one other place they could be, the park.
Pulling out his comlink, he cleared his throat as he hit the connect button.
“Duty Officer, this is Commander Montclare. Terrorists have attacked Governor Blaise and the limousine has crashed. We’re on All Saints Road near the corner of Hilton Terrace… two blocks west of the Opera House.” He spared a glance at the bloodied remains inside the vehicle and sighed. “The governor and his wife are dead. Duchess Langford is missing and I’m going in pursuit of the remaining attackers. Get the duty marines down here with medical assistance, have them lock onto my comlink for location.”
So much for a quiet evening at the ballet to see ‘The Nutcracker’, he thought, as he climbed back to his feet. Holding the comlink up, he slipped through menus until the holo-display lit up with a map of the area. Zooming in, he saw the icon of Ciara’s device showing she was behind him in the park. Pushing off, he launched into a sprint toward her location, leaping over the low gate at the edge of the park and feeling soft snow crunch beneath his dress shoes.
Wearing only a formal kilt and dinner dress uniform jacket, he wasn’t prepared for the cold. It hit him hard, bringing pain to his lungs as he gasped for breath in the chilled air and raced through the mist of his breath. Each step on the snow crunched loudly, it was only a few inches thick and as he ran around a corner of the path, he felt himself sliding out of control. The weather planners had promised four weeks of snow for a White Christmas, and despite cheering the news last week, he was now cursing them when he fell to the ground.
Wet and covered with the fine powdery snow on one side, he pulled himself back up and studied the surroundings. The park wall was parallel to his path, and beyond that the scream of sirens with a blazing trail of light above highlighting the duty marines dropping from one of the orbital stations in a Landing Boat. They’d be another ten minutes at least, too long to help his fiancée. It was all up to him.
Sliding along the path, it was less than a minute later that he saw her. The attacker dragging her by the hair toward another gate with the rifle slung over a shoulder and a pistol pressing against her side, forcing her to move in ungainly sidesteps with his long paces. The man had long dark hair that matched the woman he’d shot, unkempt and oily in the reflected moonlight.
Ciara was in her lace evening dress, barely reaching mid-thigh and the top sliding off her shoulders. The cloak she’d been wearing had been discarded or lost, leaving her to shiver in the cold wind with no outer covering. In the tall heels, she tottered along giving feeble struggles against her captor, the mass of blonde hair bouncing in the breeze at her movements. The gold and gems of her jewellery shone in
He had been looking out the window at the time, studying the snow-lined trees and walls, thinking how nice it would be to wander through the gardens with Ciara after the ballet. Just a quiet, romantic moonlight walk in the snow-covered park to finish the evening; that was what he had been thinking. The sight of the watcher with a gauss rifle slung over his shoulder was so unexpected that he did a double take at the image. Before he could yell a warning, the truck hit them and it became a jumbled mess of noise, pain and screams. That man was still out there now, the fourth amongst however many other attackers.
Pushing to the rear of the limousine and the now dead female assassin, he kicked the pistol away from her lifeless fingers. Swivelling eyes around he looked quickly for signs of where the fourth attacker was hiding. Seeing no sign of the man or Ciara, only an ever growing number of onlookers, he slid back down to the road’s icy surface. There was only one other place they could be, the park.
Pulling out his comlink, he cleared his throat as he hit the connect button.
“Duty Officer, this is Commander Montclare. Terrorists have attacked Governor Blaise and the limousine has crashed. We’re on All Saints Road near the corner of Hilton Terrace… two blocks west of the Opera House.” He spared a glance at the bloodied remains inside the vehicle and sighed. “The governor and his wife are dead. Duchess Langford is missing and I’m going in pursuit of the remaining attackers. Get the duty marines down here with medical assistance, have them lock onto my comlink for location.”
So much for a quiet evening at the ballet to see ‘The Nutcracker’, he thought, as he climbed back to his feet. Holding the comlink up, he slipped through menus until the holo-display lit up with a map of the area. Zooming in, he saw the icon of Ciara’s device showing she was behind him in the park. Pushing off, he launched into a sprint toward her location, leaping over the low gate at the edge of the park and feeling soft snow crunch beneath his dress shoes.
Wearing only a formal kilt and dinner dress uniform jacket, he wasn’t prepared for the cold. It hit him hard, bringing pain to his lungs as he gasped for breath in the chilled air and raced through the mist of his breath. Each step on the snow crunched loudly, it was only a few inches thick and as he ran around a corner of the path, he felt himself sliding out of control. The weather planners had promised four weeks of snow for a White Christmas, and despite cheering the news last week, he was now cursing them when he fell to the ground.
Wet and covered with the fine powdery snow on one side, he pulled himself back up and studied the surroundings. The park wall was parallel to his path, and beyond that the scream of sirens with a blazing trail of light above highlighting the duty marines dropping from one of the orbital stations in a Landing Boat. They’d be another ten minutes at least, too long to help his fiancée. It was all up to him.
Sliding along the path, it was less than a minute later that he saw her. The attacker dragging her by the hair toward another gate with the rifle slung over a shoulder and a pistol pressing against her side, forcing her to move in ungainly sidesteps with his long paces. The man had long dark hair that matched the woman he’d shot, unkempt and oily in the reflected moonlight.
Ciara was in her lace evening dress, barely reaching mid-thigh and the top sliding off her shoulders. The cloak she’d been wearing had been discarded or lost, leaving her to shiver in the cold wind with no outer covering. In the tall heels, she tottered along giving feeble struggles against her captor, the mass of blonde hair bouncing in the breeze at her movements. The gold and gems of her jewellery shone in
Similar Books
