point. "Charing Cross," the
PM mumbled. At least he knew where we were.
Lighting was quite dim, too—there wasn't any need to fully
illuminate a tunnel system that was only used for storage at times. Our
footsteps echoed—it couldn't be helped—everyone ran in dress shoes; Maye and I
in heels.
Once, these tunnels housed government records, followed by the
trunk exchange run by the Post Office, where calls could be routed throughout
Britain. Its claim to fame was that the hotline between the Kremlin and the
White House passed through the exchange. Who knew that one day, the Prime
Minister and the U.S. Secretary of State would be running through to escape
assassins?
We raced past generators bolted to the floor in round tunnels
at least fifteen feet in diameter. A bullet pinged off one of the metal
behemoths somewhere behind us. "Are you armed?" Rafe asked the PM's
second guard. That drew our momentum to a temporary halt.
"He is," the PM answered.
"Give me your gun. I'll hold them off," Rafe said.
"I don't think that's a good idea," the guard
snapped.
"Edward, give him your gun," the PM ordered.
"You can have mine, too," Dave panted as August and Ken
carried him forward. Rafe took Dave's gun and ejected the clip. "I only
fired twice," Dave explained. He'd hit a target with both shots.
"Mine's fully loaded," Edward handed his gun to
Rafe.
"I'll stay with Rafe," Maye offered.
"Do it," August nodded curtly. "Get them off
our backs until Corinne can get us out of here."
"Save your shots," Rafe handed Edward's gun to Maye.
"I'm not stupid," Maye hissed.
"Good. I don't need stupid," Rafe said. "I need
a good shot."
"Come on," August nodded at me while I blinked at
Rafe.
Heaving a sigh, I turned and led our party toward the next
branch in the tunnels. That passage would take us upward and to another door,
which I hoped to hell the PM could get us through. I also hoped that Rafe and
Maye would make it out as well.
* * *
Ilya
I positioned myself behind a huge generator that hadn't seen
operation in more than a decade. Maye settled behind a bulkhead fifteen feet
behind, after I'd told her to take two shots from that location when our
pursuers reached a point ten feet from where I knelt.
Giving me a nod she settled in, preparing to get two shots off
as requested. Likely, she'd make them count, too. We had standard British issue
Glock 17s, and I had fifteen rounds to her full seventeen.
They came after us, boots hitting the tunnel floor in a
regular rhythm. They weren't expecting any of their quarry to stage an ambush—they
assumed all of us would keep running.
Maye hit the first target in the head three feet ahead of me,
as requested. The second target was hit in the leg. He shouted at the others
and jumped toward my hiding spot.
That was a mistake.
Grabbing him by the neck of his body armor, I flung him into a
steel rib, crushing his skull. He was dead when his body slid to the floor.
Maye fired again, hitting a third pursuer in the throat. He fell, gurgling and
gasping for breath before he died. Jerking the Glock from my belt, I fired at
two more, wounding one and forcing the other to take cover behind another generator
farther back.
They hadn't anticipated our ambush, and I now had two dead men
near enough to filch their weapons.
We had Glocks—they had submachine guns. Two of those would be
useful during a brief siege. One of their remaining five was wounded, and if we
waited long enough, he'd bleed out from the wound to his leg. If we waited long
enough, perhaps Corinne would get the PM to a phone where he could call for
backup.
* * *
Corinne
I did my best not to jerk every time a gun was fired in the
tunnel behind us. Dave looked extremely pale and August and Ken were now
carrying him. I'd gotten a good look—he'd kept August from getting shot, taking
the bullet in his own shoulder and getting two shots off in the bargain.
I was determined to get him out of this mess so he could get
the help he
PM mumbled. At least he knew where we were.
Lighting was quite dim, too—there wasn't any need to fully
illuminate a tunnel system that was only used for storage at times. Our
footsteps echoed—it couldn't be helped—everyone ran in dress shoes; Maye and I
in heels.
Once, these tunnels housed government records, followed by the
trunk exchange run by the Post Office, where calls could be routed throughout
Britain. Its claim to fame was that the hotline between the Kremlin and the
White House passed through the exchange. Who knew that one day, the Prime
Minister and the U.S. Secretary of State would be running through to escape
assassins?
We raced past generators bolted to the floor in round tunnels
at least fifteen feet in diameter. A bullet pinged off one of the metal
behemoths somewhere behind us. "Are you armed?" Rafe asked the PM's
second guard. That drew our momentum to a temporary halt.
"He is," the PM answered.
"Give me your gun. I'll hold them off," Rafe said.
"I don't think that's a good idea," the guard
snapped.
"Edward, give him your gun," the PM ordered.
"You can have mine, too," Dave panted as August and Ken
carried him forward. Rafe took Dave's gun and ejected the clip. "I only
fired twice," Dave explained. He'd hit a target with both shots.
"Mine's fully loaded," Edward handed his gun to
Rafe.
"I'll stay with Rafe," Maye offered.
"Do it," August nodded curtly. "Get them off
our backs until Corinne can get us out of here."
"Save your shots," Rafe handed Edward's gun to Maye.
"I'm not stupid," Maye hissed.
"Good. I don't need stupid," Rafe said. "I need
a good shot."
"Come on," August nodded at me while I blinked at
Rafe.
Heaving a sigh, I turned and led our party toward the next
branch in the tunnels. That passage would take us upward and to another door,
which I hoped to hell the PM could get us through. I also hoped that Rafe and
Maye would make it out as well.
* * *
Ilya
I positioned myself behind a huge generator that hadn't seen
operation in more than a decade. Maye settled behind a bulkhead fifteen feet
behind, after I'd told her to take two shots from that location when our
pursuers reached a point ten feet from where I knelt.
Giving me a nod she settled in, preparing to get two shots off
as requested. Likely, she'd make them count, too. We had standard British issue
Glock 17s, and I had fifteen rounds to her full seventeen.
They came after us, boots hitting the tunnel floor in a
regular rhythm. They weren't expecting any of their quarry to stage an ambush—they
assumed all of us would keep running.
Maye hit the first target in the head three feet ahead of me,
as requested. The second target was hit in the leg. He shouted at the others
and jumped toward my hiding spot.
That was a mistake.
Grabbing him by the neck of his body armor, I flung him into a
steel rib, crushing his skull. He was dead when his body slid to the floor.
Maye fired again, hitting a third pursuer in the throat. He fell, gurgling and
gasping for breath before he died. Jerking the Glock from my belt, I fired at
two more, wounding one and forcing the other to take cover behind another generator
farther back.
They hadn't anticipated our ambush, and I now had two dead men
near enough to filch their weapons.
We had Glocks—they had submachine guns. Two of those would be
useful during a brief siege. One of their remaining five was wounded, and if we
waited long enough, he'd bleed out from the wound to his leg. If we waited long
enough, perhaps Corinne would get the PM to a phone where he could call for
backup.
* * *
Corinne
I did my best not to jerk every time a gun was fired in the
tunnel behind us. Dave looked extremely pale and August and Ken were now
carrying him. I'd gotten a good look—he'd kept August from getting shot, taking
the bullet in his own shoulder and getting two shots off in the bargain.
I was determined to get him out of this mess so he could get
the help he
Similar Books
