The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI 5)

When he hung up, Mike had slipped from the bed and was headed to the shower. He watched for a moment, smiled at the incredible wild hair around her head and the rest of her, then got up and walked to the window to stare out at the city. Roman Ardelean was out there somewhere. He’d told them they would die if they didn’t go home.

Nicholas joined Mike in the shower.

* * *

They drove to Buckingham Palace in three separate black Range Rovers. Today Mike saw nothing but bright blue and an incredible shining sun overhead, the cold rain long gone. A perfect day for a barbecue.

She felt a shiver, leaned close. “You were worried this morning we’d missed something. Well, now you’ve got company, I feel it, too. Something isn’t right.”

“I don’t suppose you know what it is?”

Nicholas’s mobile rang. “Melinda, is something wrong?”

“No, no, the schedule changed. No announcement. We’ll be going to Parliament instead of doing the barbecue at Buckingham Palace. The Queen will be there, too. She’ll be speaking to the House of Commons, about Brexit, as well as the president and the PM.”

“When did the schedule change, Melinda?”

“This morning sometime. We were just called to session. I don’t know the details. I’m assuming they finally listened to us, decided to keep everyone indoors instead of parading them out under the clear blue sky for target practice. Or they got a threat, and that caused the change of venue. I don’t know.”

Nicholas looked at Mike. “It’s a right relief. Good for you. We’re on our way.”

The cars did a turn and drove back toward the Thames.

Mike said, “You know what? It would take serious armament to get into Parliament.”

Nicholas said slowly, “True, but I wouldn’t put anything past Ardelean.”

The Carriage Gates, where another attack had taken place, was smothered in security. They weren’t subtle about it, either—no less than twenty SWAT-geared officers, along with a bevy of armed officers and regular Metropolitan Police. Tourists were forming a line across St. Margaret Street, in Parliament Square. Nicholas remembered his first visit to Parliament with his grandfather when he’d been three years old. He’d been overwhelmed by the incredible rooms, one after the other, the sheer opulence, the huge golden building, glistening under a bright sun, just like today. The seat of all that was right and just, his grandfather had told him, and he’d never forgotten. In theory, his grandfather had added. Nicholas hadn’t forgotten that, either.

Nicholas studied the crowd. “Visitors to this city always do have a keen sense of something about to happen.”

“Nowadays everyone is so hypervigilant when they see a bunch of law enforcement, they assume something’s happened or is being prevented from happening.”

“It looks secure. Where do you want to set up? Inside?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, I am much more worried about security outside than in. Ben can go inside with Melinda and your dad. Let’s stay out here. I’m sure Penderley’s people will be happy to have you around.”

“Maybe. I agree about our staying outside—we can keep watch.”

They were expected. The Range Rovers were ushered through the gate into the courtyard, then thoroughly examined. When all was clear and they were out of the cars, Nicholas and Mike looked immediately at the sky. They saw nothing of concern. Ben trotted up.

“Ben, Mike and I are going to stay out here. You’re our extra layer of security inside. If anything feels off, don’t question, yell out.”

Ben nodded, passed out comms. “Adam is monitoring everything. If there’s trouble, you’ll know.” Mike put hers in, tested, heard Nicholas and Ben loud and clear.

Adam said, “Good morning, lady and gentlemen, the temperature is twenty degrees Celsius and the skies are blue—a magical surprise. All is nominal on the field. Play ball.”

They all laughed and split up to their stations. Mike and Nicholas watched Ben and the rest of the team head inside the massive Parliament building. Nicholas saw his father pointing them out to the guards at the doors, knew he was letting the men know they were to be allowed inside, without interference, should the need arise.

Mike asked, “If something happens in there, do you know how to get to them?”

“Oh yes. My grandfather has spoken in the House of Lords a number of times. I used to be allowed days off school to come watch.” And again, he remembered his first visit.

“I sometimes forget one day you’ll be Baron De Vesci, a peer of the realm, and wear a wig and talk on the floor.”

“Let’s all pray by the time that happens, they will have done away with the wigs. Come with me, I want to show you something.”

They listened to their comms as the updates from Ben came in.