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In his gut, Barstow knew it was Roman’s doing—and what if the train had exploded in the Chunnel? To have a bomb go off 150 feet underwater? Barstow shuddered at the thought. It was bad enough to have a Eurostar be blown up as it was leaving the station, but add to that the damage to the infrastructure. You deserve to die for this, Roman, you deserve it. Now I have to figure out how to make it happen.
Harry looked back once as the elevator closed on his friend Corinthian Jones. What was wrong with the man? No time to worry about it now. When he walked into the command center, images were flooding the wall screens. It was a nightmare scene, twisted metal and shattered glass, the train bent and on its side. Harry didn’t interrupt the frantic group of people to announce his presence. They knew what to do, had been well trained. He listened to the varied accounts as they came in, assembling a timeline in his head. Ian came to stand beside him, taking notes.
“First reports of injuries are coming in, sir. Miraculously, only a few people are injured, though two have been taken to hospital with burns and are listed in critical condition.”
“Someone’s saying the bomb went off outside the train, which is good luck for us.”
Harry said, “Outside the train? Was the bomb beside the tracks, like an IED?”
“No, what I’m hearing is it was dropped onto the train.”
“Hey, we have a witness, a videographer, can you believe it? The photos are being uploaded right now. He says he saw something fly over the train, then it exploded. He has it all on film. He was doing a promotional video shoot for Eurostar. Here it comes.”
The multiple screens coalesced into a single view of the handsome white-and-yellow sloped nose of the train, flashing into view and then out of it, then an earthshaking blast; the camera wobbled and the train screeched as it flew off the tracks and came to rest on its side. Harry watched, mesmerized, as the video replayed again and again, slowed down frame by frame until, finally, a small black object could be seen entering the frame and making contact with the train.
“There it is,” he said. “Enhance and enlarge.”
Ian stood next to Harry, watching the video loop over and over again, the bomb going off in slow motion, the top of the train coming apart and blowing metal out of the frame.
He said, stunned, “Someone dropped a bomb on it from above. How is that possible?”
Nicholas stepped into the room and caught his father’s eye. “A drone. That’s how.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
My falcon now is sharp and passing empty, and till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, for then she never looks upon her lure.
—William Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew
Dawson Place
Notting Hill, London
Isabella was humming as she put the finishing touches on her face—there, a bit of red lipstick—and shut off the light in the bathroom the very moment the doorbell rang. Perfect timing. Gil was always prompt, bless him. He’d been gone for a week on a shoot, and she couldn’t wait to see him. Though why he was ringing the bell was beyond her. This was his place, too.
She hurried to the door, flung it open.
“Hello, sexy lady.”
She saw the flowers in his hand, the bottle of wine tucked under his arm, and grinned.
“My arms were full. I couldn’t get my key out.”
“Get in here so I can hug you. Now.”
“You get one press conference and suddenly you rule the world. Grab my suitcase, and I’m all yours.”
When she got the flowers, the wine, and his suitcase out of the way, she threw herself into his arms. She loved his kisses, and this kiss, she thought, he smelled of the sea. It was hard to pull herself away, but she did, finally, knowing the lipstick was already gone, and she wondered why she’d bothered in the first place.
She reached for the wine, but he put the flowers in her hands instead.
“You take care of these. I’ll handle the wine.”
“How was the trip?”
“Long. Remind me not to get a wild hair to go deep-sea fishing again anytime soon. Those guys are nuts, but man, I got some photos that are going to blow your mind. I’m telling you, babe, these are National Geographic worthy. I’ll upload during dinner, so you can see them in real time before I start the edits. There are some pretty awesome shots.”
He popped the SD card into the computer, and the photos began uploading. She joined him at the desk.
