“He was wrong. You see, I remember Kosta Resnick.” The man who had led the assassination attempt against the Prince of Wales in that first inquiry case with Brodie.
“And Marie Nicola who was responsible for killing an innocent young woman,” I added, the memory still painful. Mary Ryan, my housekeeper’s daughter who was brutally murdered, and my sister might very well have been their next victim.
“So, you see, it was never possible to persuade me.”
“Where is the Prime Minister?” Alex demanded.
Soropkin smiled, a gruesome expression given his now distorted face.
“You must know that your scheme has failed.”
Again there was that slow smile, as if what Alex was telling him didn’t matter.
He’d been caught and was now in police custody. His scheme had failed. Or had it? And I suddenly knew the reason he was smiling.
Redstone. He was still out there somewhere in the rabbit’s warren of offices, meeting rooms, and passages in Westminster Hall. The question was— what was the rest of it?
“I have no hesitation shooting you,” Alex then told Soropkin.
“And deny your people the satisfaction of seeing me hang?” the anarchist viciously replied. “It will never happen!”
“Where is the Prime Minister?” I demanded.
The confidence, the arrogance, the certainty, and that smile…
The sharp report of the revolver was deafening as Alex fired, and Soropkin dropped to the floor, screaming with pain as he clutched his left knee.
I stared at Alex, his expression most serious. He was most certainly full of surprises.
“You won’t need that leg to stand up on the gallows,” he coolly informed Soropkin as more curses filled the air.
“Or the other knee as well,” Alex suggested. “Tell us, where is the Prime Minister?”
As expected, there was no answer. An anarchist to the end, I thought. However, a badly wounded knee would hinder any attempt to escape.
“Where is Redstone?” I then asked. I saw the faint look of surprise in those cold eyes at the realization that we knew a great deal more than he might have hoped.
“It’s too late. You will never find him,” Soropkin spat between teeth clenched at the pain.
Additional agents had arrived. Alex nodded in recognition. He explained what had happened.
“You need to find the Prime Minister. He’s undoubtedly nearby.” He paused. “If he’s still alive, you need to get him to safety. And Soropkin…” he paused with a glance at the man at the officer’s feet.
“He’s wounded but make no mistake he is dangerous. He cannot be allowed to escape.” His meaning was quite clear.
The hallway outside the office was in chaos as we left the office. A clerk accompanied by the police went door-to-door and announced to Parliament staff that there was an emergency and they were to leave immediately.
They left their offices en masse, some pausing to retrieve a coat or some personal item, then fled down the hallway toward the Central Hall.
We quickly followed and stepped into chaos as those hundreds of members of Parliament, staff, and guests who had returned after the ceremony now made their way toward the main exit and a handful of others that were now manned by the police and more of Sir Avery’s people.
Alex held onto my arm or I might have been swept along as people pushed past us. I looked around and finally saw Mr. Conner.
“We have Soropkin,” Alex informed him as he pushed his way toward us. “But we were unable to learn anything about Redstone and anything else they have planned.”
“Where is Brodie?” I demanded.
Mr. Conner nodded grimly.
