Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [46]
They heard a lot of noise, the babble of many voices, and when they turned the corner into Whitehall, it was already crowded with people. A line of police vehicles stretched across the road, to prevent access to the gates of Number Ten, the police all in riot gear and some of them on horseback.
The crowd surged forward, more and more people arriving and applying pressure from the back. The Oxford contingent was already splitting up, scattering throughout the crowd. Helen Quinn and Alan Grant were forced to one side and swallowed up, Rupert and Percy pushed elsewhere.
Up front, young men, faces obscured by balaclava helmets or ski masks, presented a new and sinister element: And then it happened. A petrol bomb soared from somewhere inside the crowd, hit the ground just in front of the police line, and burst into flames. There was another and yet another, as the police retreated a few yards.
The crowd roared as two more petrol bombs were thrown, and yet there was also an element of panic, a lot of people realizing they'd gotten into something worse than they had expected. Some turned and tried to work their way back, and at that moment, the mounted police charged.
They were met by a hail of missiles, but the police kept coming and burst into the front ranks, batons rising and falling. Total panic now reigned everywhere, people crying out, women screaming.
Henry Percy turned desperately, terrified. "I can't take this. I must get out."
For what it was worth, Rupert himself had no intention of staying. The police, after all, didn't ask questions at such affairs. The fact that you were there was enough. He was just as likely to get clubbed on the head and thrown into the back of a van, and that wouldn't do.
He said to Percy, "Don't panic. Just follow me," and he started back, kicking and punching his way through.
They made it to Horse Guards Avenue and joined a throng of people who were doing the same thing, most of them running. Finally, they turned out onto the main road beside the Thames and made it back to the coach. They weren't the first; at least half a dozen students were ahead of them.
Percy scrambled inside and Rupert followed. Two of the students were girls, and they were crying. The boys didn't exactly look happy, either. Percy sat, head in hands.
Rupert said to the students, "I warned you, and you wouldn't listen." He turned to Percy. "God knows what's happened to the others. But that's your problem, isn't it?"
He got out, walked along the Embankment in the direction of Vauxhall Bridge, managed to hail a black cab, and told the driver to take him to South Audley Street. Kate would be pleased that it was all working so well.
I t was half past four in Whitehall, people running everywhere, and Alan and Helen had been forced to shelter in a doorway with several others. He hadn't given her the drugs yet--there hadn't been time. Besides, he had other things on his mind. Helen was afraid but excited at the same time. She clutched Grant's arm, and he took half a bottle of vodka out of his pocket and unscrewed the cap. He had a very long swallow. The police were charging again, and she clutched his arm even harder. Grant felt himself getting hard. He was going to score today, he could tell--but he might as well make sure of it.
"Take it easy. Here, have a drink."
"You know I only like white wine."
"Come on, it'll calm you down."
Reluctantly, she took the bottle and swallowed. It seemed to burn all the way down. "God, that's strong."
"Not really, it's just the taste. Have another pull."
"No, Alan, I really don't like it."
"Don't be silly, it'll make you feel better."
She did as she was told.
There was another roar from the crowd as the police forced their way forward relentlessly, clubbing their way through, and now very large numbers of people were turning and fleeing.
Grant said, "Time to go," took her hand, and pushed his way through the crowd.
They moved down Horse Guards Avenue and made it to the Embankment. The coach was still there on the other side of the road,