Patrick Farrell looked anxiously over at Bailey. “What do we do?”

“We keep calm for a start,” said Bailey. “No one will know the shot came from the airship. Just take us back to the airfield.” He got to his feet and headed back to the co-pilot’s seat. “Keep talking to air-traffic control, tell them we’ve a problem with the camera and that we’re heading back.”

As Farrell put the blimp in a slow left turn, Bailey spoke into his radio microphone, a worried frown on his face. “M-M-Mary, are you there? M-M-Mary?” There was no reply.

The words came out slowly and Kelly had to strain to hear. “Did we get him?” asked Mary, her grip tightening on Kelly’s arm.

Kelly looked down at the baseball diamond. The First Lady was being ushered to the tunnel, surrounded by armed Secret Service agents. A helicopter thundered overhead, its rotor wash tugging at their suits. More agents were pushing the Prime Minister into the darkness of the tunnel, out of danger.

Kelly cradled Mary’s head in her lap. The blood had stopped bubbling from her chest, replaced with a pink froth. “Yes,” Kelly whispered.

“You’re sure?” gasped Mary, her eyelids fluttering.

Kelly saw the Prime Minister disappear into the safety of the tunnel. “Yes,” she lied, “I’m sure.”

Kelly felt Mary shiver and then relax. Blood dribbled from the corner of Mary’s mouth and down her neck.

Cole Howard ran out of the sky box, past the President and his entourage of Secret Service agents amid a forest of Uzis and Heckler & Koch submachine guns.

He took the escalator, jumping the stairs four at a time. On the ground level he saw the Prime Minister and his security team heading in his direction and Howard unclipped his FBI badge from the breast pocket of his suit and held it aloft. “FBI!” he yelled, to make sure that there would be no confusion. The American and British bodyguards were all edgy, with their fingers inside the trigger guards of their weapons, and the Prime Minister appeared to be in a state of shock. An older Secret Service agent, a Uzi held aloft, was screaming at them to move faster and looking over his shoulder as if he expected to see pursuers.

Howard sprinted down the tunnel, shouting all the way that he was with the FBI. He had to squeeze by the First Lady and her bodyguards before he burst out of the confined space and into the huge stadium. He heard a public announcement reverberating around the arena, calling for everyone to remain calm. Howard could see spectators streaming towards the exits while others were standing in shock. Howard looked up. In the distance he could see the airship turning and heading away from the city. A deafening beating sound filled his ears and he tilted back his head. Directly overhead was a National Guard Huey helicopter, coming in to land. The downbeat of the rotors sent dust and sand whirling around Howard, stinging his eyes and making it hard to breathe. He ducked his head and put a hand over his mouth as the helicopter went by and landed about fifty yards away.