As soon as the shooting had started, Oliver had retreated from the Royal Enclosure he’d just arrived in. He had no weapon on him, and there was nothing he could do against semi-automatic gunfire. That was a job better left to those with guns or enhanced powers. He’d focused on not getting trampled by a panicking crowd and hoping none of the terrorists showed up in the grandstand.
The chatter on comms was still buzzing in his ears, but the urgency had abated now that the threat had been dealt with. The cross-channels had been difficult to keep up with during the beginnings of the attack while Oliver had gotten lost in the crowd. Things turned out all right in the end though, at least where his family was concerned.
People had been separated by degree of importance in the aftermath. The royal family had been completely evacuated from the area and were being protected in an undisclosed location at the moment. Guests of high importance had gone with them, but Jamie Callahan had remained behind with a detachment of his family’s personally employed security detail as well as members of the Secret Service.
Liam had also remained behind to help coordinate cleanup and containment of the area, though Oliver had yet to get eyes on the other man. Oliver couldn’t reveal he worked for MI6, and so remained confined with his parents in the area where other members of the peerage and guests of note were being cleared to leave first.
Very classist of the UMG, he thought.
Oliver knew he and his family directly profited from the entrenched classism in their society, and he was momentarily selfishly glad his parents were nobility and would get clear of this mess in the first group out. He wanted them safe.
Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to stay behind and work the scene, Oliver knew he couldn’t. He needed to remain with his family, and once he could slip away unnoticed and report back to MI6, he would, but that wasn’t going to happen here. Ascot was an hour drive from central London, just barely located within the creep of Greater London’s border. After the attack on Victoria Station, the trains weren’t running as smoothly, and they definitely weren’t running here after today. Oliver knew returning to London by car would be a headache.
What Oliverreallywanted to do was find Liam to see if he was all right. He knew he shouldn’t want that, but Liam had once again taken over his thoughts.
Oliver hadn’t witnessed the fight on the trackside of the grandstand for the sole reason he’d been caught up in the panicking crowd. Considering the Reborn IRA had fielded a metahuman, Oliver knew he would’ve had no chance against someone with an enhanced power. He’d only listened to the fight, and that had been hard enough.
The Royal Legion knew how to get the job done, and Liam’s focus in the field was the same as Oliver remembered from back in December when they had first started working together. He was professional even when putting his life on the line, and Oliver could only admire that.
He knew Liam had been hurt during the fight, but not badly enough to be removed from the field. Chatter over the comms over the past couple of hours had let Oliver know that the Royal Legion and Union Jacks had been helping the ground crews clear the racetrack and stables of any possible Splice bombs. Considering the number of Reborn IRA fighters who’d been smuggled through the security checks, it wasn’t a threat they could overlook.
If they found any, that’s when Oliver would start to worry. If the Reborn IRA had access to Splice, then most likely the buy had already happened,and the UMG and MI6’s intelligence was incorrect.
That would be a bloody disaster.
“I think the next bus is ours,” Sofia said tiredly as she fanned her face.
The summer heat was harsh, and with little shade, they’d all been baking in the sun for hours. Water had been passed out, men had stripped down to sweat-soaked shirts, and many women had long since kicked off their high heels. Not Oliver’s mother, though. Sofia still wore her hat and heels, refusing to sit on the grass like others.
Oliver followed her gaze and watched as a police car escorted a line of four charter buses past a security line to the car park their group had been slowly moved to over the last few hours. Evacuating everyone was a slow process.
“They’ll call us up if it is,” Oliver said.
The next few minutes were a little hectic as everyone sitting or lying on the grass got to their feet and surged toward the buses. Barriers and armed police kept them in line. Everyone was tense, some people were still crying, but the police were managing to keep control of the situation. Oliver rather thought the empath assigned to the Union Jacks had a hand in how calm everyone was remaining.
“When I call your name, please board the bus,” a police officer said through an augmented microphone. His voice echoed loudly over the chatter from the crowd, enabling everyone to hear him.
Names were called, and while Oliver eventually heard his parents’ names, he didn’t hear his own said with them. His father turned to look at him, the concern on his sunburned face easy enough to read. Like Oliver, he’d lost his top hat in the rush and panic to leave Ascot.
“Oliver? They didn’t call your name. We gave it to them,” his father said.
“Something might have come up.” Oliver lowered his voice when he accessed his comms. “Am I staying behind?”
He didn’t say his name or the handle he used in the field for privacy’s sake. Whoever was manning the comms still knew it was him. The channel connecting him to MI6 and the UMG in London came to life in his ears. “The UMG has requested you remain on the premises. You will be escorted out of the evacuation zone shortly.”
“Understood.” Oliver met his father’s gaze. “I have to stay. You and mum get home safely. Let me know when you’ve arrived.”
“Oh, darling. Please be safe,” Sofia said as she stepped closer to give him a tight hug.
Oliver patted her gently on the back before pulling away. He watched his parents be escorted onto the bus that would take them back to London, and it wasn’t long before someone cleared their throat behind him. Oliver turned around, eyeing the agent who had come to fetch him.
The woman in a suit had an electronic badge hooked to her jacket, the small screen there showing the UMG crest and her surname. She gave him a slight nod. “Sir, if you could come with me? We just need to clarify your statement.”
Of all the ways to get him out of the crowd without blowing his cover, this was one of the easier ways to do it. That didn’t stop people nearby from eyeing Oliver as if he were radioactive. “Of course.”
Oliver followed the UMG agent out of the section containing people cleared for evacuation. He was taken back into the grandstand, managing to pass through multiple lines of security with ease by virtue of the agent’s badge. Oliver didn’t know what to expect, but he certainly didn’t anticipate being led to the car park used by employees on the other side of the track that was now a staging ground for the UMG. He found Liam waiting for him there, along with the rest of the Royal Legion, Jamie, and Kyle.
Oliver couldn’t help but flick his gaze up and down Liam’s body, taking him in. The bespoke suit Liam had worn to Ascot was a shredded mess over his knees and on his shirtsleeves. He’d lost his suit jacket somewhere, and the flak jacket he wore in lieu of it looked out of place against his civilian clothes. Liam had bruises on his face and a deep scrape over his left cheekbone that had scabbed up over the past few hours. It looked swollen and painful, and Oliver’s hand twitched with the sudden need to reach out and touch.
