Free The Eye of Shiva by Alex Lukeman

and nonessential personnel had stayed home, anxious to avoid the demonstration. The Commerce Department attaché was there and his assistant, CIA's man in Manila. In addition to the ambassador, the only other Americans were Helen Martinson, Selena and a young woman who was the attache's secretary. Her name was Jean Wilson. Manila was her first overseas assignment.
    Six American civilians, plus Sergeant Crowder and his Marines. A half dozen Filipinos rounded out the list, cleaning personnel and maintenance workers unwilling to be intimidated by the demonstration and lose a day's pay.
    Selena was a step behind Margaret as they moved toward the ballroom. She heard sudden shouts from the rear of the building and the unmistakable sound of automatic weapons, followed by an explosion.
    Grenade , she thought. Without thinking, her hand went for her gun. It wasn't there. Great. Locked away. She reached up to her ear and activated the comm link.
    "Nick, do you read me?"
    "Loud and clear. What's happening?"
    "We're under attack. In the back."
    Nick heard the background chatter of small arms fire over his earpiece. Out front, the only sound was the roar of the crowd. Ronnie and Lamont heard everything Selena was saying. Lamont's chronic tiredness seemed to have vanished. They stepped close to Nick and waited for his lead.
    Nick cupped his ear. "Can you get to cover?" he said.
    Selena was about to answer when men dressed in black shirts, white trousers and wearing black headbands spilled out of the ballroom into the central hall. They carried AK-47s. Sergeant Crowder shot the first man through the doorway before a burst from an AK cut him down.
    The three Marines in front opened fire. The foyer echoed with gunfire and the eerie sound of high velocity rounds ripping through the air. Two more terrorists went down. Selena grabbed the ambassador from behind and pulled her down to the floor. The terrorists concentrated a stream of fire on the Marine guards. The open space echoed with shouts and the staccato blasts of the weapons and the ping of empty casings bouncing across the hard wooden floor.
    Then it was silent except for the clacking, metallic sound of an empty magazine hitting the floor. The smell of spent rounds and fresh blood filled the air.
    Selena looked at the carnage and whispered into her comm link. "Negative cover," she said. "Three terrorists dead. Six left that I can see. The guards are dead."
    She stopped whispering as a pair of feet wearing Nike running shoes stopped nearby.
    "All right," she heard Nick say. "Stay cool, don't do anything heroic. We'll get you out of there. Don't say anything unless you have to. I can hear everything going on around you."
    "Get up." The voice was hard , almost bored. The Nike foot kicked her. "You are not hurt. Both of you, get up now." The speaker kicked her again for emphasis.
    Selena got to her feet and leaned down to help Margaret stand.
    "You are going to regret this," the ambassador said. "You, and all your cowardly comrades." She looked at the blood soaked body of Sergeant Crowder lying on the floor. Selena watched her get herself under control.
    The terrorist leader was a small man with eyes that looked dead. Like the others, he wore a black headband, black trousers and a white shirt.
    "I don't think so ," he said. His English was good. "Unless you want to join your sergeant over there, you'll do as I say, Madame Ambassador ." He turned his attention to Selena.
    "Who are you?" he said. "You are not one of the people in our photographs."
    Nick's voice sounded in her earpiece. "Tell him you're a journalist, visiting for a story. He'll like that."
    "I'm a journalist," Selena said. "I work for the Times. I'm doing a feature piece on Manila and the American presence here in the Philippines."
    "Ah, a journalist. Surely Allah has smiled upon me. You will tell our story to the world."
    "Allah?" Selena said. "You are Muslim?"
    Like a snake, the man's hand whipped through the air and slapped