54

Lennon heard the scream first, saw the pistol second. People scattered, falling over each other, limbs outstretched. He grabbed for his Glock, tried to keep the thin man’s blurred shape in his vision as it wove through the panicked crowd.

‘Stop!’ he shouted as he levelled the Glock.

The security guard dropped the telephone and clambered over the reception desk. He tried to grab the fleeing form, but it turned. A boom, and the guard dropped, a hole torn in his shoulder.

Some threw themselves down, some huddled against any solid surface they could find, and others ran. The thin man found a path through them before Lennon could aim.

‘Get down!’ he shouted, knowing the terrified herd would not heed him. He caught the thin man’s silhouette against the glass of the exit doors. ‘Stop! Police!’ he shouted.

Lennon took two steps towards the glass, then stopped, his fear coming back to him. ‘Ellen?’ he called to the confusion of bodies. Then he saw her in the arms of a woman, a chaplain, by the Quiet Room. He ran to them, pulled Ellen close and kissed her forehead.

‘Don’t move from here,’ Lennon said to the chaplain. ‘Keep her safe till I come back.’

He ran for the exit.