He trailed off. Whelan stared at him, then turned to the rest of us.
‘OK, let’s take a break.’
I sat in my car with the door open. A polystyrene cup of stewed tea steamed on the dashboard, slowly cooling. It was almost an hour since we’d come out of the hospital, and I was yet to hear when — or if — we were going back in again. A fine mist of rain speckled the windscreen as I took a drink of tea. Taking my time.
Something told me it could be a long wait.
Jessop had looked haggard as we emerged from the hospital into daylight, his face ashen beneath the whiskers. All his bluster had deserted him, as much an admission of guilt as any confession. His firm was supposed to have carried out a survey at St Jude’s before any demolition work started. That should have included checking for any asbestos in the antiquated hospital, which, if found, would have to be safely removed. That was time-consuming and expensive and could only be carried out by a licensed company. At best, Jessop was guilty of negligence for missing it. At worst, he knew it was there and deliberately said nothing, which could mean criminal charges.
No wonder he’d been so desperate to knock the place down.
It left the police search of St Jude’s in limbo, at least until the risk had been assessed. And possibly even longer, if the operation was suspended until the place had been made safe. Either way, it meant more delays until a decision was reached.
I climbed out of the car and stretched, debating if it was even worth staying any longer. I couldn’t see anyone being allowed back inside for the rest of the day, and there were more interesting ways of passing an afternoon than sitting in a car park. I’d decided to try and find Whelan when I saw someone come out from one of the police trailers.
It was Jessop.
If anything, he looked even worse than before, as though he’d aged ten years in the space of an hour. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I needn’t have worried about him seeing me. He wasn’t in any state to notice anyone just then. His walk was slightly stumbling, as though he’d lost coordination, and his face had a dazed expression. Watching him, I wondered if he was in shock. The question was answered a moment later. As he passed a line of police cars his legs suddenly buckled. He tried to support himself against one but only slid down it, sitting with a thump on to the wet tarmac.
I ran over. He made no attempt to get up, just stayed where he was with one arm draped along the car.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked. He stared at me without answering, blinking owlishly. It could be more than shock, I thought, looking around for help. ‘All right, stay here. I’ll go and get—’
‘No!’ Colour was coming back to his face now, a red flush starting in his cheeks. ‘I don’t want anything to do with those bastards.’
He started trying to haul himself up, leaning against the car for support. I hesitated, then put my arm underneath his to help him.
‘Get off me,’ he said dully.
But there was no feeling behind the words, and he didn’t try to shrug me off. He was every bit as heavy as he looked, too heavy for me to lift on my own. He was already recovering, though. His grip on my shoulder was strong as he pushed himself upright, and after a brief wobble his balance was good. Probably just shock, then, I thought, as he let go of me and straightened on his own.
‘Where are you parked?’ I asked.
‘I can manage,’ he muttered, before adding, ‘Over there.’
His car was an old Mercedes that in better condition might have been a collector’s item. As it was, like its owner it looked like it was barely hanging on. Jessop could walk under his own steam now, but I stayed with him while he searched for his car keys and then unlocked it.
‘You shouldn’t drive yet,’ I told him, hoping he wouldn’t try. I didn’t relish trying to get the keys off him.
‘I’m all right.’
He made no attempt to get into his car, though. I was wondering if I should leave or stay with him when his shoulders started heaving.
‘They’ve got rid of me,’ he said, tears rolling down his grey-stubbled cheeks. ‘Bastards have thrown me out. Said they’re going to look at charging me.’
He’d been threatening to walk out anyway and done nothing but complain since we’d been there. And even if he hadn’t known about the asbestos, his negligence had still put his own employees, as well as other people, at risk. But even though Jessop might have brought this on himself, he cut a pathetic figure now. As much as he might deserve it, I couldn’t leave him in this state.
‘Here, sit down.’
Opening the car door, the first thing I saw was a plastic container of orange juice in the passenger footwell. Lying next to it was a half-empty bottle of vodka. I’d already had Jessop down as a drinker. He’d smelled of alcohol that morning, and I’d noticed it still clung to him as I’d helped him to the car. I’d assumed it was in his system from the night before, never thinking he’d be stupid enough to drink in the middle of a police operation. Whatever pity I’d had for the contractor dried up. This wasn’t just about making sure Jessop was all right any more. My wife and daughter had been killed by a drunk driver. I wasn’t about to let one behind the wheel now.
The contractor sank heavily on to the car seat, facing outwards with his feet planted on the ground. He sat limply, his big hands dangling between his knees and a lost expression on his face.
‘That’s it. I’m fucked.’ He’d stopped crying, at least. ‘It’s all gone. Everything. All of it, up in smoke.’
There was a beaten air about him. Then his expression hardened as he looked up at St Jude’s.
‘This fucking place. I wish I’d never set eyes on it. All that time and money, buying new plant, taking on more men. Jesus. I should’ve blown the fucker up weeks ago.’
I was looking round, half hoping to catch sight of Whelan or someone else who could intervene. There were a few white-clad figures at the far end of the car park, but none of them was looking this way.
‘Why don’t I call a taxi…?’ I said, already knowing how that would go down.
He squinted up at me. ‘What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t want a taxi, I’ve got a car.’
His belligerence was back. I knew there was little chance of convincing him, and before I could try one of the trailer doors across the car park opened. With relief I saw Ward emerge with a group of uniformed senior officers. I recognized Ainsley, but it was only when I saw the civilians with them that I realized what was going on.
Oh, Christ.
I’d forgotten about Christine Gorski’s family visiting St Jude’s that afternoon. Her mother and father were leaning together for support as they walked, faces shell-shocked and etched with grief. They were smartly dressed, as though for church or a formal event. Their son was separate from them and off to one side. He wore jeans and walked with his head down and his hands thrust into his pockets, a noticeable distance between him and his parents.
The fourth civilian was Adam Oduya.
Even in his casual clothes, the activist still stood out more than the senior police officers around him in their crisp dark uniforms. The visit was clearly at an end. I was too far away to hear, but there were handshakes and earnest nods from the police officials. Then the group was breaking up, most of the police splintering off back to their cars. Ward and Ainsley stayed with Oduya and Christine Gorski’s family, accompanying them as they walked away from the trailer.
Towards where I stood with Jessop.
They hadn’t noticed us yet, and the contractor was facing away from them. Even so, it was only a matter of time. I looked around desperately, searching for some way to avoid what was about to happen. Their voices grew clearer as they approached, with Oduya’s distinctive baritone carrying above the rest. Jessop’s head came up as he heard it. He rose to his feet, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he saw the group.