The Ajax Protocol

CHAPTER 30

Half an hour into the concert, the floor in front of the stage was filled with people jammed together, swaying in time to the music. The crowd was like an alien, giant organism with thousands of tentacles, people waving their arms back and forth in time with the music.

The band was all movement and high octane energy as the lead singer strode back and forth across the stage. Nick was in the fourth row at one end of the horseshoe of seats surrounding the arena floor. Higher up, Selena was slowly making her way along the aisles, eyeballing the crowd. Ronnie and Lamont were somewhere on the fringes of the swaying mob.

It seemed hopeless.

There were so many people. Everyone was focused on the spectacle taking place on stage. Lights, lasers, smoke and sound bombarded the crowd with an overwhelming spectacle that blotted out everything else.

"Nick, I can't see anything unusual up here." Selena's voice sounded in his earpiece.

"Me neither," Ronnie said. "All I can see are people bouncing around and waving their arms."

"Roger that." That was Lamont.

Nick said, "Ronnie, Lamont, get out of there. Work your way toward the stage and then up the aisle on the left. I'll meet you there. Selena, you too. This isn't working. Let's find Wigland."

The aisle on the left ran up from the arena floor past the stage, below the end of the horseshoe tier of seats were Nick stood. From the first two or three rows, the drop from the seating to the aisle wasn't far.

Nick started down toward the arena floor. Then something caught his eye, something that didn't fit. At first he couldn't put his finger on exactly what he had seen. What was it? He'd been looking at the aisle, the seats, estimating the distance to the floor. What did I see? He scanned the rows of concert goers. They were excited, smiling, rocking in rhythm to the music. There was movement everywhere.

Except for one man, sitting in the second row, three seats away from the railing at the end of the tier.

The man stared down at the stage. He looked worried. He wasn't tapping his feet. He wore a blue shirt and had a camera bag slung over his shoulder.

Who sits still at a rock concert?

"I've got him." Nick spoke into his microphone. "Second row up, three seats in. Over the left-hand aisle by the stage. Blue shirt, camera bag."

"I see him," Selena said.

"Roger," Ronnie said. "On my way."

Nick began to work his way toward the man with the bag. People complained as he brushed past their feet and bumped their legs.

"Oy," one man said in a loud voice. "Where d'ya think you're going?"

"Sorry." Nick pushed past him. Blue Shirt looked over and saw Nick coming. Nick was still a few seats away when Blue Shirt stood up, forced his way past a large man sitting next to him and climbed up on the railing over the aisle.

"Stop him," Nick yelled.

Blue Shirt went over the railing and dropped out of sight. Heads turned as Nick pushed past and leapt over the railing. He landed on his feet. The shock from the floor sent electric shocks up his spine. His back had bothered him ever since the jump injury he'd picked up in the Himalayas.

Blue Shirt should have turned to his left, toward the area backstage, or into the crowd in front. Instead he made for the stage itself. He knocked aside a security man and leapt up onto the stage. Nick scrambled up after him.

The band had just finished a number and the blond singer stood center stage, holding his guitar in one hand and a microphone in the other. He turned to look at the two men who had climbed onto his stage. On the floor, the crowd clapped and cheered at this new twist. The noise was deafening.

"Stop him!" Nick yelled.

Blondie's eyes widened. Blue Shirt ran straight toward him. Blondie dropped the microphone, grabbed the neck of his guitar with both hands and swung it like a baseball bat. The flat of the guitar caught Blue Shirt square in the chest. A discordant crash came through the amplifiers as the neck broke away from the body of the guitar and the strings came loose.

It was like being hit by a truck. Blue Shirt went down, hard. The audience screamed in excitement.

Nick reached the center of the stage. He looked down at the man lying dazed at his feet.

"Nice work," Nick said. He looked at the guitar. The body dangled from the broken neck, hanging by the strings. Nick gestured at it.

"Kind of messed up your guitar."

"Yeh, well." The singer didn't seem bothered by what had happened. He vibrated with nervous energy. The pupils of his eyes were black and wide. He looked at Nick. "I break these up as part of the show but I never thought I'd hit someone with one. I've got three more backstage. Who are you?"

"I can't tell you that. But you solved a big problem." He looked out at the audience. They were yelling and jumping up and down, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

"Maybe you should take an intermission," Nick said.

"Nah." He gestured at the shouting audience. "They think it's part of the show. But can you get this bloke out of the way?"

"No problem," Nick said.

He grabbed Blue Shirt by his legs and dragged him away. The crowd cheered.

One of the singer's crew ran on stage with another guitar and handed it to him. Blondie turned to his audience. "All right!" he yelled. He launched into the next number.

Wigland was waiting for him in the wings. "I told you to stay out of this," he said. "What do you think you're doing? You're under arrest."

"On what charge?"

"You assaulted a British citizen."

"Actually, I didn't. It was the guy with the guitar who did that."

"Because you chased this poor man onto the stage."

The rest of the team joined them. Lamont was breathing hard. The man in the blue shirt lay on the floor, groaning. He coughed and blood trickled from his mouth. Out front, the concert was going full blast.

"Before you start feeling too sorry for him, you might want to check that bag he's carrying," Nick said. He hoped there was more inside it than a camera. He had acted on instinct and intuition. He was about to find out if he had been right.

One of Wigland's men opened the bag. "Sir, you'd better look at this." He eased a rectangular aluminum box from the camera bag onto the floor. A red LED blinked on the top of it.

"Doesn't look much like a camera," Ronnie said.

Wigland looked angry and surprised.

Nick's earpiece sounded. It was Harker. "Nick, there's been an explosion near Parliament. There can't be much time before they activate that weapon."

"Wigland," Nick said, "it's starting. Someone set off a bomb by your Parliament building. This thing is the next piece of it. You have to destroy it."

Wigland said, "It's evidence, and besides it could be a bomb. I'm calling in the explosives squad."

"It's not a bomb, it's a receiver and amplifier."

"You don't know that, Carter. Leave this to someone who knows what he's doing. I'm calling in the squad. "

"Damn it," Nick said. "I've had enough of your bullshit. There's no time for this."

Before Wigland could stop him, Nick turned and stomped on the box as hard as he could. The thin aluminum crumpled under the blow. The seams came apart. Sparks and a wisp of smoke shot out. The red LED stopped flashing.

Harker's voice sounded in his earpiece. "Nick, what's happening?"

"We found the device. It's been destroyed." He looked at Wigland. "I need you to call MI5 and clear us out of here," he said. "We've been getting flak from one of their people. His name is Wigland."

"I'll handle it," Harker said. "Good work. Come home." Nick heard her break the connection.

Nick turned to Wigland. "We're leaving now. We're going to our hotel and then we're going home tomorrow. I can't say it's been a pleasure working with you."

Wigland looked like he was ready to have a stroke. "You bloody Yank. You're not going anywhere…" His phone signaled a call. He picked it up and listened.

"Yes, sir," he said. His back straightened. He looked at Nick. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I understand."

Wigland put his phone away. He looked like he was choking. "I've been told to give you my full cooperation." His face was red. "I've also been told to offer you an apology."

Nick decided he didn't want to make it easy. He waited.

"I apologize for any problems I may have caused you," Wigland said. He sounded like he was strangling on something as he said it.

"Accepted," Nick said.

"One of my men will drive you back to your hotel."

"That would be appreciated."

As they headed back through the city, they could see a thick column of black smoke rising into the air where the bomb had exploded. A convoy of fire trucks and ambulances roared by. But there were no trucks full of soldiers, no police in riot gear.

"We were lucky," Selena said.

"Yeah." Nick looked out the window at the smoke. "Not so lucky for whoever was there when that bomb went off."

"Can you imagine what would have happened if that thing had gone off in there?" she said. "All those people."

"It didn't, that's what counts."

"They'll try again," Ronnie said.

Nick tugged on his ear. "That's a safe bet."