-1Goren put the child down, and forced himself to abandon it, shouting at a nearby woman with two children hanging on to her to take care of it. They had to be ruthless now. He reached Hood, physically showing people aside to get to the man and wincing at the pain in his back. Oh shit. Hood was permanently down, his leg bent at an unnatural angle and his face white and drawn. Someone must have trodden hard on it in the mêlée and broken it. Goren quickly grabbed a couple of stewards and ordered them to keep people away and get medical help. They formed a small ring around the two police officers. Goren leaned forward and urgently whispered: "Did you get through?"

Hood shook his head, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry out with the pain, forcing the words out. "Still trying! Radio's busy. I'll keep trying to get through." The magnitude of the situation hit them. They might very well be the only people in the entire stadium who knew what was really going on, and they had only a few minutes before the VIPs were evacuated and the sniper could start taking his shots.

Suddenly, Goren's cell went off. He pulled it out, hoping… Oh, thank God. Eames' number.

"Bobby? What the fuck's happening?" Eames' voice was more scared than he'd ever heard her before, but he could also hear an undertone of severe pissed-ness in it. Someone was about to be very sorry.

"Is Tanya with you? What's that noise in the background?" He could hear shouting and screaming, and what sounded like a fight.

"Yes, we're both fine, We walked out of the stadium to get drinks. There's some kind of riot going on out here, those idiots we saw earlier are fighting…" She caught herself. "Fill me in."

He explained the situation. For a few seconds, none of them said anything, then a plan formed in his head. It was so crazy, he didn't stop to think about it before explaining it. Quickly, using the phone's conference call feature, he patched the call through to Davenport who, incredibly, answered.

"This had better be fucking good, Goren." The spy was breathing heavily, a combination of exertion and fear; he had only a pistol for self-defence, and if the sniper spotted him, he could be killed before he got within firing range.

"Eames?" He took a deep breath and prayed. "Are you still armed?"

"Yeah."

"Davenport, where are you? Any sign of the sniper?"

"Haven't found the bastard. I'm working across the back of the south side, east to west."

"Eames, can you get back in the stadium?"

"Yes." She anticipated his next idea. "Bobby, Tanya and I will take the other side. We'll stay in touch with Davenport, and try to catch the sniper from both sides, pincer movement, one of us should get him."

Davenport grunted assent over the cellphone, too breathless to speak.

"Okay. We still need to warn the politicians..." and Sienna. He looked at Hood to see if they'd had any luck with the radio. The man shook his head. Still nothing. "Shit. I'll have to go in person. Good luck." He cut off the call and forced himself not to think about what might be waiting for his partner if they found the sniper, or if the man had an accomplice to run interference for him.

Hood shook his head. "You'll never get through!" The pitch was one solid, seething mass of humanity, so tight it was impossible even to see the other side of the stadium from where they were. Goren had a horrible image of the sniper clearing his line of sight to where the VIPs would be emerging onto the pitch with a few well-placed shots into the crowd.

Another crazy idea occurred. "Get that mounted officer here now." Hood looked at him as if he'd gone mad, but did so, yelling "Officer Peterson! Over here, now!"

She pulled the horse up near them, and leaned forward. "What is it, sir?" The strain in her voice was obvious, but she had herself and the beast under control.

"I need you to take a message…"

"No." Goren interrupted him. "Can this horse carry two people?"

"Yes."

Hood shook his head. "You can't be serious."

"Does Officer Peterson here have a gun?"

"No, I don't." Her voice was low and calm. Peterson looked surprised at the question, then her face darkened, becoming resolute. They picked mounted officers for steady nerves in desperate situations, and he was about to gamble a lot on that.

"I do. Get me over there."

Peterson nodded. "Okay. Did you know you're bleeding?"

Goren nodded and shrugged.

"Let me take a look?" He turned round. Petersen pulled his T-shirt away from the edges of the wound, then examined it. "Hmm….. It's not deep, just long. You need something to keep pressure on it…"

Hood opened his mouth, and Goren thought he was about to argue with their plan, but then saw that the man's hands were moving to the fastenings of his bulletproof vest.

"Here… take this… more use to you than me…"

As quickly and gently as possible, he removed the vest and fastened it on quickly, wincing as it pressed against the cut. It fit nearly as well as his own would have done; he and Hood were about the same size. Before he could think too much about what he was doing, he climbed onto the back of the horse, which whickered slightly, but didn't seem to mind too much.

He leaned forward, wrapped both arms tight around the officer, and said clearly into her ear: "I need you to get me over to the VIP boxes on the other side of the stadium, as fast as possible. There's an armed man in the stadium; my colleagues are looking for him, so if we run, we have to run in zig-zags, no straight lines." He wished like hell he had some form of helmet, some protection for his head.

Peterson took a deep breath, then shook the reins, muttered "Come on, Billy, good boy", and pressed hard against the horse's side with her legs. It was slow going at first. All around them, people were yelling for help, pleading with them. He began to mutter "Keep going, keep going", aware that this was against Peterson's training to ignore members of the public in need. Hell, it was against all his training and his instincts, but below that, more primitive than that even that, was the deep urge to defeat Andropov. He was the enemy, and Goren would see to it that he failed if it killed him. Underneath it all, a voice muttering oh God, Sienna, Sienna, please, dear God, don't let her be harmed.

As they forced their way through the crowd, people began to try to catch at the horse's reins, pulling at their clothing. One man began yelling "Stop, for God's sake! My wife needs help, get her out of here!". He leapt up at them, frantic, grabbing at the saddle and nearly pulling them both out.

Goren took a deep breath, gripped Peterson's waist firmly, then leaned back and pushed the man away with his foot, not quite kicking him, but forcing him to let go. The horse bellowed loudly, a sound as much like a whinny as a police siren was like a car horn, and the crowd backed away, allowing them to break through. He could see the other side of the stadium now, see people moving around within the VIP boxes. He drew his gun and yelled "Go faster!" The horse broke into a canter, and he had to grip tightly to stay on as it bounced underneath him.

Suddenly, something whizzed fast past his ear. Oh shit. The sniper had seen them. "RUN! Get us out of here!" The horse broke into a faster pace, galloping across the grass, Peterson bent low over the creature's neck. He pressed himself over her, hoping that his vest might give them some degree of protection. They were so nearly there, and so far he could see no signs that they'd evacuated the VIP boxes yet, the roof in other parts of the stadium was still standing, though in his peripheral vision he could see parts of it beginning to peel away.

When the bullet hit them, the first he knew was when the horse screamed and reared, then collapsed to the ground.