that?”
“We need to try and get inside in case I’m right.”
At the museum’s entrance the security guards in their black suits with earpieces saw the small band of Romans approaching. The head of security moved into their path and spoke into his headset to his supervisor who was sitting in front of a bank of television monitors.
“Yes I have them on visual,” the supervisor said, “Wait for instructions.”
He frantically flipped through his clipboard. There was no mention of a detail of Roman soldiers. He was watching them on the largest screen. They were very close to the entrance of the museum. On the other monitors he could see the guests now turning towards the approaching actors.
“Sir I need a decision,” the head of security said into his earpiece.
The supervisor could see Nigel Phillips on one monitor craning his neck for a better view of the approaching legionaries.
“Sir I need your decision.”
Now everyone in the great court was watching through the doors.
“Let them in,” the supervisor ordered.
The glass doors were opened and the Romans marched in.
“Good show Nigel,” the mayor of London congratulated him whilst clapping his hands.
“Thank you sir. If you’ll excuse me….”
Phillips rushed up to the nearest security guard.
“I haven’t ordered this! Who let these people in.”
“My supervisor sir. They must have clearance!”
“Clearance! Clearance from whom….? Then Phillips saw the Austrian ambassador nodding his way and smiling. Phillips smiled back as the realisation hit him.
“Ambassador Schmidt has organised this as a surprise for us. That’s fine! I wish he’d told me but that’s fine. I’ll thank him after the performance.”
Inwardly seething, Phillips put on a smile and joined in the applause as people moved away from the centre to allow the actors access. They marched in through the doors and stopped at a command from the centurion. Then at another command they turned and marched to various positions around the room. The centurion came on alone, people moving further back out of his way.
“Their attention to detail is amazing,” someone near Natalie said.
“All except the masks,” she replied, “Roman legionaries wouldn’t have worn them. They weren’t standard issue and were mainly worn by cavalry and usually only for exhibitions for re-enacting famous battles, especially Greek or Trojan.”
“Oh!”
A girl moved forward with her mobile phone to video the centurion who deliberately kept his back to her. He paced around the glass pedestal holding the exhibit. Then quick as a flash he hoisted up his tunic and pulled out a semi-automatic machine pistol as did his men. He sprayed the ceiling of the great court as glass rained down. It happened so fast that the armed security guards didn’t have time to draw their weapons.
Peter Dennis, still inside the rest-rooms, still watching the Sky news clip, looked up at the door as he thought he heard gunfire from outside. Then he heard the screaming from the guests and he rushed to the door, opening it a crack.
“Stay where you are! Nobody move!” one of the Romans was saying, “And nobody will get hurt!”
Outside the museum it was pandemonium as the gathered crowds panicked and ran at the sounds of gunfire. One of the security guards near the main doors went for his gun. The Roman nearest him shot him at point blank range with his MP5 machine pistol. At this range the bullets entered the man’s chest, exited his back without slowing and smashed the glass doors behind him, to the screams of those inside.
“Now everybody calm down!” the centurion shouted, “There’s no need for anyone else to get hurt.”
From the crack in the door Peter Dennis tried to see what was happening. He could see Roman uniforms and then he saw Natalie who was looking his way. For a moment their eyes met. The Roman nearest the toilets saw her look and he turned with a puzzled frown as the door closed silently. The legionary next to him nodded and the first man cocked his gun and moved to the door. He pushed it open slowly and entered the toilets. There were taps and basins on one side, stand up urinals against the far wall and four cubicles, each of which had their door closed. The man with the gun looked at the signs on each door. Thay all showed ‘vacant’. He pushed the first door open firmly.
Empty!
The next two were also empty. He pushed open the fourth and Dennis threw himself at the man, knocking the gun out of his hands to slide across the tiled floor, and hammered