‘I can’t let you do this,’ Whelan said, moving to stop her.
‘Stand aside, Jack. That’s an order.’
Her voice cracked out, and Whelan faltered. Moving quickly, Jessop shoved away the PC and grabbed hold of Ward instead.
‘Inside. Now,’ he said, steering her up the steps.
‘For God’s sake, man, she’s pregnant!’ Whelan shouted, anguished.
So was Christine Gorski, I thought, numbly. Jessop backed through the shadowed doorway, pulling Ward in after him. Her bravado had gone now, and her face was pale and scared.
Then Jessop pushed the big doors shut behind them and they were swallowed up by St Jude’s.
The next hour was one of the worst I can remember. The second Jessop and Ward had disappeared inside the hospital, Whelan began yelling instructions. As frenzied activity erupted all around, I stood on the steps, dazed and ignored. Dark vans screeched up with lights flashing, disgorging armed officers in body armour. The air was full of sirens, all of them growing louder, as though drawn towards the epicentre of St Jude’s.
Whelan hauled me roughly down the steps. ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’
He lifted a hand, as though wanting to hit me. Then, with a disgusted shake of his head, he turned and hurried away.
I was ushered away from the main building, forced into a run until I was behind the police trailers, where a police officer with a gun demanded to know who I was. Then I was instructed to stay there. More police vans and cars were arriving all the time, joined now by fire engines and ambulances. As the crackle of emergency radios sounded from all around, above the trailer I could make out the roof of the old hospital, a stark black silhouette against the grey sky.
Jessop hadn’t blown it up yet.
Not knowing what else to do, I sat on the steps of the trailer. When I looked at my watch it didn’t seem possible that less than half an hour had passed since I’d arrived at St Jude’s.
‘How you doing?’
It was the young PC from the gates, who Ward had replaced as hostage. She held out a bottle of water.
‘Thought you could use this.’
I could have used something a lot stronger, but I accepted it gratefully. She hesitated.
‘I wanted to thank you. You know, for back there.’
I just nodded. There was a sick, hollow feeling inside me that swallowed up anything I might have said. The PC looked past me, towards the hospital.
‘She’d have done it anyway. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I should have stopped him.’
‘How? You did what you could,’ I told her.
‘Doesn’t stop you feeling shit, though, does it?’
No, it didn’t. After she’d gone I took a drink of water. It was more to give myself something to do than from thirst, but I realized I was parched. As I recapped it, brisk footsteps alerted me to someone’s approach. It was Ainsley. The commander stopped in front of me and gave me a cold stare as I got to my feet.
‘We’ll talk in the trailer.’
He trotted up the steps, leaving me to follow. Empty plastic chairs stood inside, arranged around an empty table.
‘Any news?’ I asked.
Ainsley seemed to consider whether or not to answer. ‘No. We’re still trying to make contact.’
‘Is anyone else inside?’ The cadaver dog search had ended for the day, and I’d seen one search team outside, but there could still be others in the basement.
He breathed out through his nose, nostrils flaring. ‘Apart from my SIO and a suspect with a bagful of explosives, you mean? Thankfully not. The search was winding down so the hospital was empty.’
He turned a chair around and sat down. After a second I did the same. The china-blue eyes were hard to meet, but I didn’t look away.
‘So, Dr Hunter, would you mind telling me why you’re here instead of at the mortuary?’
It wasn’t the question I’d expected him to lead with. ‘I’d finished there, so I came to help with the cadaver dog search.’
He stared at me without speaking. Hanging between us was our last conversation, his instruction to report my findings to him as well as to Ward. We both knew I’d flouted it, but I didn’t care.
‘Tell me what happened with Jessop,’ he said at last.
I did, trying to dredge up every detail from my memory. Ainsley would have already spoken to Whelan before coming to see me, but he was all business now, wanting to hear anything I might add.
‘Describe what you saw in the bag,’ he said, interrupting.
‘Rectangular blocks of what looked like dirty white putty, with wires stuck in them. Jessop called it RDX.’
Ainsley breathed out. ‘It’s an explosive used in demolitions. Can you say how many blocks you saw?’
‘Not really, but the holdall was medium sized and looked heavy. About half full. And there was a bottle of vodka in there as well.’
It was worth mentioning in case no one else had seen it: alcohol and explosives were a bad mix. Ainsley nodded, as though I’d confirmed what he’d already heard.
‘How would you describe Jessop’s state of mind?’
I wasn’t qualified to judge that, but Ainsley wasn’t asking for a professional opinion. ‘Angry, aggrieved. Self-pitying. He didn’t show remorse over Christine Gorski or Adam Oduya.’
‘Would you say his threats were a bluff?’
My mouth was dry. ‘No.’
The doll’s eyes regarded me. ‘Do you recall our conversation this morning about interfering in police operations?’
I took a breath and let it out. ‘Yes.’
‘Then would you mind telling me what you thought you were doing, offering yourself as a hostage to a hostile suspect armed with a bag of explosives?’
I’d been tormenting myself with the same question, asking if Ward would have volunteered if I hadn’t done it first. But then Jessop would have taken the young policewoman instead, and I’d have been berating myself over not doing anything. There was no easy answer.
I stared back at the hard blue eyes. ‘What would you have done?’
Ainsley’s mouth pursed, but he didn’t reply. He stood up, dusting something invisible from the front of his well-pressed trousers. I’d noticed him do that before: either his eyes were better than mine or it was an unconscious tic.
‘I’ll send someone to take a formal statement, then you can go. I’ll arrange for you to be taken home.’
It hadn’t occurred to me until then, but I’d parked in front of the main hospital building, on the wrong side of the new perimeter. My car wasn’t going anywhere until this was over.
One way or the other.
‘I’ll make my own way,’ I said.
‘As you like.’
He left. I’d managed to stop myself from asking what was going to happen now. He wouldn’t have told me, and I could guess some of it anyway. A police negotiator would try to make contact with Jessop, probably through Ward’s phone, if the contractor’s was switched off. They would try to talk him into giving himself up and releasing Ward. If that failed, the decision would have to be taken whether it was riskier to wait or send in armed officers. In a warren-like building the size of St Jude’s, that would be a last resort.
Especially when Jessop might have rigged it with explosives.
It seemed an age before a plainclothes detective constable arrived to take my statement. I spent the time replaying the events on the hospital’s steps and agonizing over what might be happening while I waited in the empty trailer. My neck and shoulders ached as I sat tensed, waiting for the roar of an explosion.
It didn’t come. Once I’d signed my statement, I was told someone would be along to escort me through the outer police cordon, and then I could go. When no one had appeared after another fifteen minutes I grew tired of staring at the trailer’s scuffed walls and went to wait outside. No one took any notice as I opened the door and went down the steps, but there was a palpable tension, a sense of expectancy in the air. It had been late afternoon when I’d arrived and the light had fallen while I’d been inside the trailer. Floodlights had been set up in front of St Jude’s, bathing the austere face of the building as though it were a giant stage set.