The explosion seemed to destroy the entire city. As he drove along one of the roads set aside for government ministers and workers in the centre of Brussels, Colonel Seth Fanaroff yanked the car aside as other cars screeched to a halt or came to a stop, the drivers panicking as the centre of Brussels vanished in fire. Captain Saundra Keshena screamed as the side window shattered, scattering broken glass over her arm; Fanaroff ignored it as he fought to control the car. They skidded to a halt and he shouted at her to jump out, seconds before a massive lorry charged into the road and came to a halt, caught on a crashed car. “Get down,” Fanaroff shouted. He’d seen it before, in Iran; it was almost textbook perfect. He hurled himself at her and knocked her to the ground, covering her with his body, just as the lorry exploded with an almighty blast. A wave of heat passed over him and he realised, that by a miracle, they had escaped serious harm. “Stay down!”
