Guy Fawkes Day

by KJ Griffin

  ***

  The bomb blast sent Hasan sprawling onto the floor of the Commons Lobby. He realized instantly what had happened and what he must do about it. There could be no more doubt.

  But as he got to his feet a second thundering crash sent him down on the floor again. He guessed that Abu Fawaz's bomb had demolished the Victoria Tower and that the whole of the Lords would now be annihilated by the collapse of the enormous tower.

  Coughing out the dust and ignoring the submachine gun fire inside the Commons he sprinted up the steps, heading towards the top of the Commons building. As he neared the top, the air was clearer and his vision improved.

  The fire escape door was open. He climbed a further flight of stairs and stepped out onto the roof. The searchlights that had flooded them earlier were cut. The cool air tasted good, and while he gulped it greedily down he began to take in the commotion and wailing of sirens coming up at him from the direction of the Abbey and Parliament Square to his left.

  McLaughlin was in the mini tower straight ahead, popping up every couple of seconds to let off a couple of taps of his Armalite, directed alternately in the direction of Parliament Square or into the police snipers concealed just above the clock in Big Ben.

  Hasan withdrew the Skorpion 61 from the concealment holster around his shoulder and started to edge forwards, crouching low. McLaughlin was shifting his position inside the buttress, popping up from different locations to rake the Clocktower.

  Hasan narrowed the distance to ten yards then waited, training his submachine gun on the buttress. McLaughlin's head shot up straight in front of him. Hasan fired and missed. McLaughlin spun round, startled, to react to the new threat.

  In his surprise McLaughlin left his head up long enough for Hasan to squeeze off another couple of rounds. The second bullet penetrated the socket of McLaughlin's left eyeball, passing clean through the skull and killing the veteran IRA man instantly.

  Hasan sprang up instantly and monkey-shuttled the remaining ten yards, vaulting up onto the buttress to drop inside. But it was a tighter squeeze than he had reckoned. The first bullet from the police marksman caught him in the thigh, the second in the chest and another sharp pain sent blood erupting from his neck. He flopped down inside the small tower, dropping right on top of the semi-conscious Abu Fawaz.

  ‘Hasan!’ the Jordanian moaned softly, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit.

  ‘Na'am,’ Hasan gurgled back through the blood in his throat. He had just enough energy left to push his weapon under Abu Fawaz's chin and smiled surreptitiously at the strange little Jordanian as he let off a single 7.65mm round into the back of Abu Fawaz's throat.

  Abu Fawaz twitched momentarily, clutching onto Hasan's arm. But Hasan knew he did not have long to survive Abu Fawaz. As the lifeblood drained from him, he thought of Omar's last instructions. He hadn't been able to stop Abu Fawaz destroying the Lords, but however his friend and master finally met his end, it wouldn't be at the hands of a second Abu Fawaz bomb.