“Maybe not—for her.” Archer gave a flick of his head over his shoulder. “What about your other bitch?”

Middleton followed where Archer motioned. At the top of the stairs that led up to the VIP area, Tesla gasping for breath, a stream of bright red ran out of the corner of her mouth, her face sunken and tired. She’d been trampled by the crowd.

“Let them both go, Archer,” Middleton said, turning back. “Only deal you’re gonna get. You think you can draw down on me and not get taken out by a sniper, go for it.”

Sixty marines in full battle dress ran flat out in double-file, carving a path through the middle of the mass exodus.

Chang had a hand on the back of Carson’s belt, as instructed, and he didn’t argue or question when she peeled off from the stream of marines and ran up the stairs to the VIP area to their left.

“The only way this ends, Archer. You let my daughter and my colleague go. You give them time to leave.”

Archer almost smiled. Charley winced as he shifted his grip and his warm blood pumped across her neck.

“The detonator, on the ground, and I let them run for thirty seconds,” Archer said. “There’s a clear path behind me, into the dam’s maintenance area. They’ll be spared from the blast.”

Middleton knew he had no choice but to go along, even though Charley’s eyes said no.

“Twenty-five seconds.”

He scanned right—Marine One was coming in to land. He thought of Lespasse and Wetherby, two fallen comrades. He thought of Charley’s mother. He thought of all those who left too early, who were taken by greedy men. This was what he’d formed the Volunteers to prevent.

“Twenty. Leave it longer and they won’t make it.”

Middleton looked around again—spotted a familiar face: Chernayev was coming behind him.

“OK,” Middleton said. He held his hand out and put the remote detonator on the ground, a few paces from Archer. He let Charley go, shoving her toward Tesla, who was doing her best to hurry down the stairs.

“Run!” Middleton yelled at them. “Run!”

Tesla grabbed Charley by the arm. With all her remaining strength, she dragged her away, pulled her in a run toward the safety of the dam’s reinforced concrete.

The crowd had broken through the barrier and the line of security at the landing area of Marine One. Still several thousand people were jostling for a chance to escape the amphitheatre, hundreds of them taking this new route.

Secret Service were forced to keep the president behind the bullet-proof glass screen, some two hundred yards off their now-busy evac site. Marine One stayed on station, hovering directly above its LZ. They all donned gas masks, even the president and his bodyguards.