The emergency sub-committee were all back in the main room: the ceasefire at Broadcasting House was over two hours old now and disparate reports were starting to be assimilated, an incomplete but increasingly coherent picture [more…]
Why had he said that, the flood of relief perhaps at this unexpected, nay miraculous, escape from his impetuous stupidity? The man’s wife, a barely repressed desire to tell him she was safe? “I’ll report [more…]
Andy Bowson received the command and sprinted across the street, followed by the others. Visibility was returning, only the smoke billowing out from parts of the building giving them any cover from unseen gunmen that [more…]
One of Andy Bowson’s team spotted movement through the settling dust high up in Broadcasting House and called out; Andy trained his carbine’s telescopic sight on it to see four half naked women lined up [more…]
Bowson heard through the radio that operational control was being passed to the military, they all knew what that meant. He was summoned back to the temporary situation base in the north-eastern corner of Cavendish [more…]
The man’s no coward, hesitates, part of him wants to fight, sees the young man turn away, crouching low, one rifle over his shoulder, the other grasped in both hands, feet race past the closed [more…]
The Cabinet Office emergency centre was buzzing and crowded: the PM, senior ministers, Met Commissioner and Ted Armstrong, the heads of MI5 and MI6, Director of GCHQ on the phone, senior military officers, the Chief [more…]
The television was on, set to Sky News while her laptop was streaming the BBC news feed direct from Broadcasting House news centre, the cameras still viewing and broadcasting: it was like the Marie Celeste, [more…]
He looked at his watch again, three twenty-eight; he nodded to the driver to make the final run in from their side street. The teams in Manchester attacking the same organisation’s base in Salford Quays, [more…]
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