Jessop’s van still stood at the bottom of the steps, too close to the hospital for the police to approach. Its door hung open exactly as he’d left it, a physical reminder of what had happened.
‘Dr Hunter.’
I turned to find Whelan approaching. I braced myself for more criticism.
But all his energy seemed to have left him. The DI looked to have aged five years in the last few hours, and I realized he probably felt almost as useless as I did. This was a tactical operation now. He’d have to take a back seat himself while other people took over.
‘I wasn’t sure you were still here,’ he said. ‘Look, about earlier. Maybe I was—’
The ground suddenly shook with a deep, solid bump that felt as though my heart had stuttered. An instant later it was followed by a huge, percussive THUMP that rocked the trailer next to us. I staggered into Whelan as the entire front of St Jude’s seemed to shiver, and then the boards covering its windows were blown off. A sheet of timber caromed into Jessop’s van, almost tipping it over before it was swallowed by a billowing cloud.
The din of car alarms filled the air as shattered brick and stone peppered down with the sound of hail on a tin roof. All around people were climbing to their feet, staring in shock at the hospital.
Whelan leaned weakly against the side of the trailer. ‘Oh no…’
Beneath a billowing veil of dust, over half of St Jude’s had ceased to exist.
Chapter 29
They brought out the first body just before midnight.
The rescue operation had started even before the dust swirling over the rubble had begun to settle. Grim-faced rescue workers tried to clear a way inside, ferrying equipment and machinery from fire tenders and vans. More floodlights were set up, replacing those shattered in the blast, and the strobing blue lights of emergency vehicles added an icy hue to the scene. The old hospital had been mortally wounded. Debris littered the ground in front of it, glass and shredded timber scattered like fallen leaves. One wing had been destroyed, the loft where we’d found Christine Gorski and the hidden room beneath completely obliterated. The other, including the main entrance, was still standing and retained most of its roof. But only the exterior walls were intact. The explosion had brought down the internal walls and floors, reducing most of the interior to a vast heap of broken stone and plaster. What windows remained had been blown out, leaving blind, blackened holes edged with jagged shards and broken frames.
All had been confusion in the minutes after the explosion. As the last rumbles died down, Whelan had taken a few steps towards the hospital before stumbling to a halt as the smoke and dust had cleared to present a view of the wreckage.
‘Oh, Jesus Christ…’
My ears were ringing, and the air had held an acrid stink I could taste at the back of my throat. ‘What can I do?’
He’d looked at me as though he’d forgotten who I was. ‘Stay here.’
Then he was running towards a group of officers, yelling orders. Ignoring his instructions, I’d headed for the ruined hospital until a police officer in body armour grabbed me by the arm.
‘You! Where’re you going?’
‘To help,’ I said dumbly.
‘You think anyone’s walking out of there? Stay behind the trailers!’
With that, he’d hurried away. He was right, I’d realized, as another group of uniformed officers rushed past. There was nothing I could do here. Dazed, I’d gone back to the trailers.
By contrast, everyone else had seemed galvanized with purpose. A semblance of order had already been established as the honk of fire engines blared in the distance, steadily growing closer. I’d slumped down on to the steps of a trailer, staring at the devastated hospital. In front of it, Jessop’s van stood on flat tyres, paintwork dulled by dust and grit. Its door was hanging off and its windscreen had been stoved in by the broken plywood board that lay across its crumpled bonnet. I’d felt nauseous. I hadn’t believed he’d do it. In spite of everything, I’d thought the contractor would allow himself to be talked down, would have let Ward leave.
Not this.
The cloud of dust had began to thin when movement caught my eye above the hospital. Black wisps were trickling from the undamaged section of roof, fanning out against the darkening sky. Please don’t let it catch fire, I’d thought, my stomach tightening. Then a breeze had cleared the dust and I’d realized it wasn’t smoke.
The surviving bats were leaving St Jude’s.
As night fell the rescue operation had taken on the relentless quality of a machine. I would have liked to help, but my offers had been tersely refused. No one had told me to leave, though, so I hadn’t. At one point I’d seen police and fire officers huddled over building plans, and shortly afterwards rescue workers had began venturing through the main doorway. Ainsley had arrived not long after that, leading a tall man in casual clothes to a trailer. The man was in his forties and had walked with the shell-shocked look of someone who’d found himself in a nightmare. Although I’d never met Ward’s husband, I hadn’t needed to be told this was him.
One look at his face had made that clear.
It was an hour or so later when there was activity around the main entrance. Its doors had been blown off, leaving a raw opening like a toothless mouth. Now shouts came from inside. I scrambled to my feet as I saw paramedics jogging towards the entrance with an empty stretcher.
An odd silence fell just before they brought the body out. I was too far away to make out any details, and the figure on it was covered. But the funereal pace of the bearers as they carried it down the steps was message enough. In the bright floodlights and flanked by the tall stone pillars, the procession looked almost theatrical. Desperate to know who it was, I looked round and saw Whelan watching solemnly from nearby. I hadn’t seen the DI since just after the explosion. He looked exhausted, glancing at me without interest as I hurried over.
‘Who is it?’ I asked.
Whelan didn’t take his eyes from the slow procession. ‘Jessop.’
He said it without emotion. A little of the tension went from my shoulders as I watched the stretcher being loaded into a waiting ambulance.
‘What about Ward?’
‘Nothing yet. It was pure chance they found him. He was in the basement, on the edge of where half the floors above came down. It looks like he’d set the charges but wasn’t anywhere near them when they went off. There wasn’t… they haven’t found anyone nearby, but it’s going to take days to clear the rubble.’
His face reflected the bleakness in his voice. It confirmed what I’d known but not wanted to admit. This was a recovery operation now, rather than a rescue.
Whelan turned to me as the ambulance doors were slammed shut. ‘I didn’t know you were still here.’
‘It’s better than waiting at home.’
He nodded. ‘You should go, though. There’s nothing you can do here, and it’ll be hours before… Well, before there’s any news.’
‘I’d rather stay.’
‘Up to you. In that case you might as well…’
A shout came from the entrance to St Jude’s. There was some sort of commotion going on among the rescuers gathered by the main doorway, a commotion spreading outwards from them like ripples in a pond. Seeing it, Whelan tensed, and as though on cue his phone rang.