Siege

Ninety

22.28

ELENA STOOD IN the wind and the rain at the edge of the roof terrace, looking across a Hyde Park dominated by the lights of emergency vehicles. The fire brigade had put up two ladders and a cherry picker, and were in the process of evacuating the hostages. Behind her, the first thin plumes of smoke were drifting out through the restaurant double doors, but nothing moved in there, and the shooting had stopped.

She’d seen Martin go running in there a few minutes ago, after the other man – the one who looked like a soldier – but neither of them had emerged, and she was beginning to fear the worst. She didn’t want to leave without them, but at the same time she desperately wanted to get back to Rod. And she needed to have her nose looked at. For the last few minutes the extent of the pain had been disguised by the adrenalin coursing through her system, but now it was beginning to make her feel nauseous.

A steadily growing roar filled the air and, as Elena watched, a huge military helicopter came into view, blocking everything else out as it stopped just metres above her, dropping down long rope lines. A few seconds later, two dozen armed men dressed completely in black abseiled down on to the terrace, pausing only to gather together in groups of four.

And then, beyond them, Elena saw a figure stumbling through the restaurant in the direction of the French windows. He was wearing a suit, and she immediately recognized him as the man Martin had gone in after.

The armed men in black saw him too, and one group of four approached him, weapons outstretched, the search beams attached to the sights homing in on his face.

The man stopped in the doorway, shielding his eyes with his hand as the men in black barked orders at him. Then he appeared to totter and fell on to one knee.

‘He’s hurt!’ shouted one of the men in black, and they descended on him quickly, moving him rapidly to one side as their colleagues poured through the French windows and into the restaurant.

Elena ran over and saw that they’d laid him out on his back. Two of them were frisking him for weapons, even though his shirt was stained with blood, and it was clear that he was badly injured. ‘Please,’ she said as one of the soldiers peeled off and blocked her view, ‘he’s not a terrorist. He attacked the terrorists in the restaurant. He saved our lives.’

‘Get back, ma’am, please,’ said the man in black, giving her a none too gentle push.

Behind him, his colleagues had finished their frisking and two of them had lifted the man to his feet. As they led him past Elena, her eyes met his.

‘Where’s Martin?’ she asked him. ‘I saw him go down to look for you.’

‘He didn’t make it,’ said the man in the suit. ‘I’m very sorry.’

And then he was being helped into the cherry picker, where two firemen waited to take him.

‘Come on, ma’am, you need to come to.’

Elena looked up towards the sky, and for a long moment she forgot everything and simply savoured the feel of the rain on her face.

The nightmare had ended. She was free.