Joshua was ready. Primed. McGale’s body language had pre-warned him. The sudden tightening of his jaw. The stiffening of his ageing muscles beneath his nondescript clothing. The calming, strengthening intake of breath. All signs of a man about to act.
Joshua’s eyeball was inches from the scope. He could see every detail. Every movement. Yet even he was surprised by McGale’s speed. Joshua had watched carefully as McGale reached his hands to the underside of his seat. They had remained there for a second. Maybe two. As if they had met resistance. Then, just as suddenly, they were free. The right hand now carried a pistol. Its make and model was disguised by the duct tape that had attached it to the bottom of the chair.
McGale had burst into action, moving as fast as a man who was half his age and twice as active. Joshua struggled to pick him out from the still-roaring crowd as he ran, but it did not concern him: McGale had only one place to go and only one way to get there. Instead of following his target’s jinking run, Joshua placed his scope at the stage end of the aisle. Which McGale would reach within moments.
Sarah opened her third notebook of the day. In it she scribbled down every word and emotion that came to mind. Not for the first time, she wrote the slogan ‘Beatlemania’. She knew why. This crowd was like nothing Sarah had ever experienced. It was a sustained hysteria and it brought to mind footage of The Beatles’ screaming fans in the sixties.
It was not a reaction she understood. Sarah knew that both Thompson and Matthewson were well respected by the British public. Together they had led the Northern Irish negotiations that – until recent terrorist atrocities – had seemed to put the faltering peace process in the province back on track. But this alone could not explain the crowd’s worship. As an American living in London, Sarah found the whole display a little ‘un-British’.
Sarah’s eyes fixed on the page, her focus absolute. She saw nothing else as she concentrated on turning her thoughts into words. The deafening noise around her did not make this easy. Sarah closed her eyes and tried to block out the distraction. And so she failed to see the middle-aged man who sprinted past her, in the direction of the stage. Maguire, though, had been paying better attention.
Maguire hesitated for less than a heartbeat before giving chase. Though slowed by the effort of keeping his lens trained upon McGale, it was a short enough distance not to matter. Whatever was to follow would be caught on film. And Sarah, whose concentration had been broken when Maguire moved, was just a few steps behind.
Joshua used his naked eye to watch McGale run. His crosshairs were perfectly positioned. Everything was in place. He wondered for a moment if McGale might actually reach the stage before being spotted.
He had his answer within an instant. Joshua felt a pang of disappointment as McGale reached the end of the aisle and ran clear into the pistol sight of a waiting agent. The agent was ready, her gun aimed at McGale’s heart. Just a movement of her finger and he would go no further.
It was what Joshua had been waiting for. What he had been told to expect. He did not hesitate. Joshua pulled the trigger only once and watched without satisfaction as his bullet ripped through the front of the agent’s head. The impact slammed her to the floor, removing the only obstacle in McGale’s path. Not that McGale seemed to notice. He appeared unaware of how close he had come to death.
In just three more strides McGale had reached the stage. Too fast for anyone else to react.
Six shots. The full load of the weapon McGale had pulled from beneath his seat. Fired into Matthewson and Thompson from near point-blank range. That number meant everything to Joshua; his instructions had been clear. Phase One was to ensure that McGale reached the stage and fired the full number of rounds. Joshua was to assist in that by removing any obstruction from McGale’s path. Only then would McGale himself become the target. Phase Two.
Joshua placed his crosshairs back between McGale’s eyes and prepared to apply the kiss of pressure that would release the chambered round. It was fast by anyone’s standards. But not fast enough.
Both Sarah and Maguire had pursued McGale without a thought. Neither seemed to consider their own safety until Joshua’s shot rang out. It was a wake-up call that stopped both in their tracks. They watched in horror as the young agent’s head ruptured.
Maguire was a twenty-five-year veteran video journalist. He had seen more violent death than he cared to remember. He could only wonder at the damage this had done to his psyche, but today he was just grateful it had removed his gag reflex. Sarah had frozen at the sight of the fallen agent, while Maguire had paused for only a moment. Then he was moving again. Sweeping his lens from the floor to the tragedy unfolding onstage. Perfectly placed, Maguire’s camera captured every bullet that ripped into Matthewson and Thompson.
Maguire’s attention – like his lens – was directed to the raised platform. It made him miss the sight that followed: a DDS agent passing him at speed and slamming the gunman to the ground.
Sarah had seen Dempsey coming. Her eyes had been fixed on the dead agent as she fought off shock. Maguire may have seen this kind of violence before, she knew. But Sarah had not. Sarah had been raised in a wealthy Boston family. Death – even natural death – had played no part in her life. And so Sarah had no idea how to deal with what she had just seen. Luckily for her, Dempsey now provided a dramatic distraction.
The agent moved like an Olympic sprinter. So fast that Sarah had to throw herself aside as he hurdled the body of the fallen agent. Sarah’s eyes stayed fixed upon Dempsey as he passed and she marvelled as he tackled, disarmed and restrained the shooter in one smooth movement.
Seconds passed before Joshua reminded himself to breathe.
McGale remained in his crosshairs, but he might as well have been behind bulletproof glass. Joshua could not fire now that his target was restrained. Not without ruining his own cover.
McGale had been tackled with extraordinary speed. It had not been expected. The surprise had made Joshua hesitate. Just an instant. But even milliseconds can change a life.
Joshua had failed for the first time in his career. As the smoke cleared and the teams of paramedics fought to save the life of the men bleeding onstage, Joshua could only wonder what the consequences of that failure would be.