The Roosevelt Guardian looked unsure. He clearly didn’t want to annoy a friend of the Chief Executive. But then could Myles really be a friend of someone as senior as the new Senator Roosevelt? The Guardian eyed Myles’ ill-fitting Chinese suit with suspicion.
Myles pushed his point home. ‘Get on your radio and check with him. Now — it’s urgent. Tell him Myles Munro is here and is ready to go through.’
Reluctantly the private security man used his radio. ‘Outer cordon control point for Chief Exec’s office,’ he said. ‘Message. Over.’
There was a pause, then a crackle of static and ‘Send.’
‘We have a Mr Munro here, claims to have permission to enter from the Chief Exec. Can you confirm?’
Another pause, before a radio squelch followed by the words, ‘The Chief Exec is unavailable at the moment. Please hold.’
Myles knew if they made him wait too long his chance would be lost. He had to get through. ‘Dick Roosevelt is unavailable because he’s in great danger,’ lied Myles. ‘Either that, or everything he’s worked on is about to be destroyed.’
The Roosevelt Guardian just looked bemused. What was this Englishman talking about?
Myles could see the Guardian was about to react again, when he decided to take the chance: quickly, he vaulted over the barrier. ‘You’ll thank me later,’ he called, hoping his words would confuse the private security guards, as he sprinted on again, this time towards the inner cordon.
The Roosevelt Guardians didn’t know how to react. Myles left them standing. The Italian journalist saw what had happened and tried to push through after him. The Roosevelt Guardians stopped her, but it meant they couldn’t chase after Myles. They had to let him go.
The men in the cordon in front of him didn’t expect him. They didn’t even see him — Myles came from behind. He ducked under their line and ran forward.
Before the Roosevelt Guardians could act, Myles was with the refugees.
He quickly took his bearings. He could see Helen and her crew. He could see Roosevelt Guardians manhandling other journalists. And he could see the line of Guardians themselves, now behind him: the inner cordon. They had their weapons ready, and they were about to fire.
Myles was in the thick of the crowd. The Africans had been cornered, and they knew it. Some were trying to move, at least half aware there was nowhere to go. Others were panicking, some terrified. Most looked hungry and desperate.
The Roosevelt Guardians were about to shoot into the crowd…
Myles tried to make his way through. A mother was sitting on the ground, breastfeeding her infant. Myles carefully tried to step over her. He passed an angry teenager shouting back at the Roosevelt Guardians. Some older refugees were sitting down, unsure what to do. But there was no sign of Placidia.
Myles kept trying to pass through. He had to make it over to Helen, who was about to broadcast again. She had her finger on her earpiece and was holding a microphone. Turning to check the image behind her, she paused for a gesture from the cameraman, then started reporting on the scene.
Another journalist was trying to film not far from her. The Roosevelt Guardians were jostling with the cameraman. A scuffle, which Myles made his way around.
Eventually Helen saw him approaching. She indicated to someone that they needed to stop filming, then moved through the crowd towards him. Myles tried to wade towards her.
Finally, their hands touched over the people. They pulled each other in and embraced. ‘Myles, you’re safe,’ she enthused.
‘Where’s Placidia?’
It wasn’t the question Helen had been hoping for. She made plain she didn’t know.
But Myles was insistent. ‘Quick, where is she?’ He looked round again, desperately searching through the crowds. Still no sign.
Helen finally picked up on Myles’ urgency. ‘Myles, what’s happened?’ she asked.
‘The plot to bring down America like ancient Rome — it’s gone wrong,’ he explained.
Helen looked confused. ‘But…but that’s good, isn’t it?’
Myles shook his head sceptically. ‘There was never a proper plot,’ he said. ‘I’ll explain later. But where’s Placidia? We need to find her. Now.’
Helen tried to look around with Myles. Both were taller than most of the crowd around them, but it was still hard to see everybody. ‘I don’t know,’ said Helen. ‘She was close by a few minutes ago.’
Helen and Myles were knocked by some of the panicked refugees, who were desperately looking for shelter. Many were shouting or screaming, fearing more bullets would be aimed at them. Helen was almost brought to the ground.
Myles grabbed her, turned her towards him and spoke directly to her face. ‘Helen. We need to get into the Embassy,’ he insisted.
‘The US Embassy?’
‘Yes, inside.’
Helen was now doubly confused. ‘Placidia won’t be in there.’
Myles nodded. ‘This isn’t for Placidia.’
Helen turned to the building just behind them, still baffled. Myles seemed convinced. She knew she would have to trust him.
Helen beckoned over to her camera crew, who acknowledged Helen’s lead and started to follow. She indicated to Myles that they were ready to move.
Myles and Helen started to push through the crowd of Africans. Most of the refugees were already bunched up — they had tried to move as far away from the Roosevelt Guardians as they could.
Helen waved her way through. As the crowd started to realise she and Myles were not a threat, their route to the embassy became easier.
Soon they were approaching the Roosevelt Guardians keeping the African refugees out of the embassy grounds — the line which marked the start of US territory.
Helen tried to shout to Myles over the noise. ‘Why the embassy?’
‘To protect America,’ was Myles’ response.
Helen made clear she didn’t understand. But she kept moving forward until finally they had passed through all the refugees. She waited for Myles and her two-person production team to join her. Then she faced up to the wall of Roosevelt Guardians.
The Roosevelt Guardians were still blocking the entrance into the embassy. They acknowledged Helen’s presence, but refused to move.
Helen turned to Myles. ‘What now?’
‘We need to get in.’
‘But these guys won’t let us in,’ said Helen, frustrated.
‘They have to. You’re American,’ insisted Myles. ‘Show them your passport.’
The Roosevelt Guardians overheard Myles’ explanation to Helen. They waited while Helen searched for her passport. Eventually she found it.
She pulled it out and waved it at the Roosevelt Guardians. Her production crew did the same.
The private security men looked unsure. They hadn’t been given orders about Americans.
Helen pressed her point. ‘C’mon, guys. It’s Americans like me you’re here to protect…’
Still unsure, one of the Guardians turned to someone for advice. It was enough for Helen to push her way through. Myles and her production team followed. The private security men realised the decision had been made for them and allowed the four to go inside. They quickly closed the line up again. Some refugees tried to push on them, but the line of security men wasn’t going to move any more. The Africans were still trapped.
Just as they were leaving the crowd behind them a voice called out. ‘Mrs Helen. Mrs Helen.’ Myles and Helen turned to see a young African woman, who neither of them knew, holding something out for them. Helen went back to see what it was. The Roosevelt Guardians were reluctant to let the young woman reach over to her, fearing she was going to break through into the embassy. But it was clear the woman had something she wanted to give Helen. She was holding it up, trying to pass it to Helen over the security guards.