The line went dead.
Dennis checked his e-mails, saw the Sky news link, saw that the Sky news report on anytime was fourteen minutes long, put the I-phone back to it’s screensaver, reached for the door handle, stopped, got his phone out again and quickly found the Sky news link.
“Fourteen minutes,” he said as the report began to load, “Natalie is going to kill me.”
Outside the museum the VIP’s had long since finished arriving and some of the news crews were packing up. Many of the reporters were now sipping coffee and hot chocolate on this chilly, late, October night.
Kim Nguyen was talking to her camera crew, their equipment on the ground in favour of hot drinks when she heard the first parp from the Roman cornicen.
“What the hell is that?” her cameraman put his coffee down and hoisted the camera onto his shoulder when he saw the legionaries that had rounded the corner. Nguyen was frantically thumbing through the multi page programme looking for Roman re-enactors.
“I don’t remember seeing anything about this,” she said, “Are you filming?”
“Absolutely,” Tom, the cameraman replied.
“Live from the British museum,” Nguyen began reporting, “A group of Roman soldiers are advancing towards us and the museum in what appears to be a surprise spectacle put on by the organisers who have managed to keep it quiet from us,” the camera flashed back from the legionaries to Nguyen, “I have the schedule here in my hand,” she said holding it up for the watching world, “And there is definitely no mention of re-enactors in it. What else will surprise us this evening. Kim Nguyen reporting from the British museum.”
Nguyen moved out of the way for the camera as the Roman re-enactors swept past her, about turned at a command from their officer, clearly a centurion, and marched towards the steps followed closely by the media with cameras and reporters giving chase.
As they passed Nguyen she noticed the centurion, who was the only one of them not carrying a shield, had a strange bulge under his tunic. It seemed ridiculous but she imagined it to be a gun. Not a handgun but possibly a small machine gun, a ‘what were they called‘? She tried to find the words in her head.
“That’s it! A sub-machine gun.”
She started to call out to her cameraman Tom when she realised the centurion was looking in her direction. She couldn’t see his face. They were all wearing shining masks that completely covered their features. She involuntarily shuddered. The masks had a chilling appearance. She shut her mouth and looked at the ground until she felt he’d looked away. Now she studied the legionaries and though they all carried shields she was sure they had similar if not the same strange lumps under their tunics. She grabbed Tom’s arm as he was filming, pulling him off balance and forcing the news camera off focus.
“Kim! What are you doing?” he said, knowing they could edit out any bad film.
“Tom. Stop filming. Have you stopped?”
“Yes Kim. What’s wrong?”
“Keep your voice down,” she said, “I know this sounds ridiculous but I think these men are armed.”
“Yes they were,” he replied, “With swords and spears. Their attention to detail is very good.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean I think they’re carrying guns. Under their tunics.”
“Guns?”
“Yes guns,” she said, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. Tom was watching the re-enactors’ disappearing backs while searching for an answer.
“Perhaps Um! Perhaps they’re police.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Since when have the Metropolitan police doubled as actors?”
“Well ok not them then but maybe they’re security people who came with the spear. Austrian police or something.”
“Possibly. But remember there was no mention of it in the schedule.”
“Do you think something’s going down? Kim you really do have a wild imagination don’t you.”
“I guess I spent too long dating Peter Dennis. I know one thing though.”
“What’s 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.