Chilling Out

by Andrew Puckett

  'Well, Debbie's house isn't particularly child-friendly, nor Debbie for that matter, so if you wouldn't mind…'

  'All right,' he said.

  A little while after she'd gone, Hal climbed into his lap, grinned up at him and said, 'Wham,' pointing to the door. After the third time, Tom realised he didn't mean the pop group, but the male sheep. He found wellies for them both and they spent a not unpleasant hour wandering round the smallholding.

  They went back in when they saw Henry and Kath return and explained where Holly was.

  'There's been an accident on the bypass,' Kath said. 'Terrible tail-back, I hope she hasn't been caught up in it.'

  The phone rang and Henry answered it.

  'How long ago did she leave?' he asked Tom.

  'Well over an hour,' Tom said. 'Why?'

  'It's Debbie – she says Holly hasn't arrived yet…'

  They all looked at each other. 'I expect she's been held up in the tail-back,' Kath said at last.

  It happened in no time at all, or with agonising slowness, depending on your point of view. She'd just penetrated the clouds of spray thrown up by the tanker and was pulling in front of it when, with a clatter, a black screen sprang up in front of her. She braked instinctively, realising at the same time that the Cooper's bonnet had released… then a horn like a ship's hooter blasted at her an instant before the tanker hit the Cooper. Her head struck the back rest as the little car shot forward and spun round. The tanker had swerved to the left to try and avoid her and now jack-knifed, sweeping a Transit aside as a broom would a match box, then went through a 300-degree turn before shuddering to a stop across the carriageway… About a dozen cars slammed into it…

  For Holly, the world and her life revolved slowly in front of her until the Transit hit her and they ended locked together against the central barrier.

  Several people saw the crash and phoned the emergency services, but a patrol car going the other way saw it happen and pulled into the verge.

  'Oh, shit…' said the driver, then, 'I'll radio and get some signs up – you see to it here.'

  'Thanks,' said the other drily as he grabbed the first aid kit. He jumped out and, judging his moment, ran across the carriageway.

  About twenty cars and vans were piled against the tanker (not petrol, thank God) and perhaps another thirty at various angles around it. A strange silence seemed to hang over everything, broken only by the occasional shout. People wandered about, lost. The tanker driver, apparently unhurt, was staring at the Cooper.

  'It was 'er,' he said to the patrolman, whose name was Wilson. 'It was, she jus' slammed on 'er anchors in front of me…'

  'All right, sir,' Wilson said, his voice sounding even stranger than the silence. 'I'll see to it. Would you help me by getting these people off the road, please, sir?' He knew he was taking a risk asking for even that much help – Health and Safety rules laid down that anyone assisting at a traffic accident wore prescribed clothing and Wilson could be held responsible if anything happened to the driver.

  Holly and the van driver were both unconscious but didn't seem to be hurt badly, so he ran back to the pile-up. He smelt petrol and it suddenly occurred to him that the man with the lighted cigarette might be a fire risk…

  He sprinted over, snatched it from him and pinched it out between his fingers. 'Would you get off the road, sir, and don't smoke, please.'

  He ran over to another man who was trying to pull a car door open. 'Would you please get off the road, sir.'

  'It's my daughter, she's in there…'

  Wilson wrenched open the door and was nearly sick – a girl of about fourteen looked at him dully, then down at her wrist. Her hand was attached to it by a piece of gristle and blood was pumping from the mess.

  Wilson swallowed. 'All right, miss,' he said crouching down beside her. He opened the kit…

  Tourniquet, where's the fucking tourniquet? He wished fervently that he'd paid more attention to the first aid lectures… He couldn't find it, so in desperation, he pulled out his bootlace, gently rolled up her sleeve and tied it round -

  It was at this point she started screaming, again and again and -

  'What the hell are you doing?' yelled the father.

  'Trying to stop the bleeding, sir,' Wilson replied stoically. 'It's all right, miss, there's an ambulance on its way and we'll soon have you in hospital…' Never had words sounded so inadequate. He found a bandage and wrapped it crudely round her wrist… to get her off the road or not? Probably not – if there was going to be a fire, it would have happened by now, wouldn't it? And moving her might make things worse…

  'Could you stay with her, sir? The ambulance'll be here soon.' I fuckin' 'ope…

  As soon as he stood up, someone shouted, 'Over here, officer.' He climbed his way over. Oh Christ…

  This time it was a driver and his foot had been completely severed. He pulled out his other bootlace…

  A few minutes later, the other patrolman found him. 'They're on their way,' he said, 'the lot.'

  'Chopper?'

  'Yeah. Is it bad?'

  'Fuckin' terrible. Gimme a hand with this bloke…'

  Bennett and Mulholland had resumed questioning Medlar when news of the crash came through. The desk sergeant beckoned them out and told them what had happened. 'I've got the lab manager of the Transfusion Centre on the phone, sir. She says they urgently need Dr Medlar back there.'

  Bennett took the phone and spoke to Jessie. 'Don't you have any other doctors there?'

  'None that can do Dr Medlar's job, no – the deputy left a month ago. We must have him for the medical decisions, now…'

  It was a situation Bennett had never come across before, releasing a suspected murderer for humanitarian purposes. Still, he hadn't been actually charged yet, had he?

  'I'll have to take advice on that,' he told Jessie.

  'Well, please hurry… and inspector, we could do with Miss N'Kanu as well.'

  He phoned the superintendent. 'I don't think we've got much choice, sir. We'd be crucified if anyone died because we wouldn't release him.'

  'All right Vic, but he's still in custody, so he stays handcuffed to you every second. Yes, the woman too, so long as she doesn't have any contact with Medlar.'

  Bennett explained the situation to Medlar and they were on their way inside two minutes. Maria went in a separate car with WPC Collins.

  'How bad it is?' Medlar asked Bennett.

  'Pretty bad, at least twenty casualties.'

  Medlar phoned the Donor Organiser.

  'I'm calling in all the emergency panel,' she told him. 'We ought to get around fifty. Will that be enough?'

  'I don't think so – better get local radio and telly to put out a general call for donors and then make sure the bleed ward's ready for them – oh, and get John to arrange a shuttle for getting blood back from the sessions.'

  The first person he saw when he arrived was Jessie.

  'What are the stocks like?' he asked.

  'Not bad,' she said, trying to tear her eyes away from the handcuffs. 'The Flying Squad blood's already gone.'

  'How many units?'

  She made a face. 'Four.'

  'Nothing like enough,' Medlar agreed. 'But they might save someone's life.'

  In fact, they saved two lives: the girl with the almost severed hand, and the man with the completely severed foot. Both had lost a lot more than two pints, but the Flying Squad blood was enough to keep them alive until the helicopter got them to hospital.

  Jessie was with Maria (and WPC Collins) in her lab when Adrian bustled in. 'I've just had a call from the chopper – they want twenty units of O neg as soon as they land.'

  Maria looked at Jessie. 'We can't, can we?'

  Jessie turned to Adrian. 'How many in stock at the moment?'

  'About thirty, we've had a run on them.'

  'Are they still on the phone?'

  'Yes,' Adrian nodded.

  She rang Medlar, who was in his office handcuffed to Bennet
t, and explained, then Adrian put him through to the helicopter.

  'Dr Medlar here.'

  'This is Dr Scott.' Medlar could hear the rotors in the back-ground. 'I've got two patients bleeding to death here. They need blood the moment we get in, which is why I must have the O neg.'

  'Have they had any blood?'

  'Two units each, but they've lost a hell of a lot.'

  'I'm sorry, but we can't give you O neg. It'll clear us out and we have other patients who – '

  'And these two may die if they don't get it,' Scott shouted. 'D'you have haemocell?' Medlar asked.

  'Of course we do, but they need blood, man.'

  'Give them haemocell now, take samples and get them to us the moment you land and we'll give you group specific blood within five minutes.'

  'That's not good en – '

  'I'm sorry, but I can't let you have our O negs.'

  'Then if they die, it'll be on your hands,' Scott snapped, and broke the connection.

  If he could see me now, Medlar thought. He put the phone down and it immediately rang again…

  Tom tried the Cooper's phone and got the unobtainable signal. He then tried the police station and was told that those unharmed would have had the opportunity to phone their worried relatives by now and that the casualties were all being taken to hospital. They didn't know whether or not anyone had been killed…

  He relayed the news to Henry and Kath. 'I'm getting over to the hospital now,' he said.

  His parents-in-law looked at each other.

  'I'll stay with Hal,' Henry said, 'if you promise you'll ring me as soon as you know anything…'

  Like a purposeful insect, the helicopter homed on to the hospital and landed, and the waiting paramedics hustled the stretchers to Accident and Emergency. A lone figure ran to the centre clutching the blood samples.

  Maria inspected the tubes to make sure the blood was clotted before centrifuging them quickly and dropping cells and serum from them into the racked test tubes she'd set up. Then, after a fifteen-second spin, she took them back into the racks before inspecting them…

  'O pos for Simon Collins… B pos for Emma Graythorpe. Could you check them for me, please, Ashley?'

  Ashley, who'd been drafted into her lab, did so, then Maria rang Adrian and asked him to get the blood. He was with them in less than half a minute.

  'That was quick,' said Maria.

  'I got ten of every group ready and issued them as soon as I heard the chopper,' he said.

  Ashley attached the red labels and as soon as he'd finished, they loaded them into a cool box and the waiting paramedic took them to A & E.

  The helicopter returned with two more victims, one of them a woman with a ruptured spleen whose group really was O negative. The centre's entire stock was used on her before the night was over. Jessie and Medlar exchanged wry smiles when they heard.

  For the first time in a long time, and also for the last time, Tamar Transfusion Centre worked as a team, a unit.

  Maria and Ashley cross matched into the evening, taking the centre's stock of blood to its lowest level ever.

  Paul grouped the emergency bleed and the day's sessions as they came in, while Dominic tested them for hepatitis and AIDS; by midnight, they had brought the stock back up to something workable.

  Holly's eyes opened and she frowned in concentration as they focused on him. "Lo, Tom.'

  He silently sighed with relief. The doctor had told him she was only concussed, but… But.

  'Hello, Holly. How're you feeling?'

  Her face twitched. 'I've got a terrible headache.'

  'I'll ask them if they can give you something for it.'

  'Where am I?'

  'Hospital.'

  'Where's Hal?'

  'With your father. Would you like to see him?'

  'Yes, I would.' Her brow furrowed. 'I was in a crash, wasn't I?'

  'Yes. You're going to be all right, though.'

  'Is the Mini badly damaged?'

  He smiled. 'I've no idea – it hasn't exactly been the top of my priorities.'

  She swallowed. 'Was anybody hurt?'

  'Some, but no one was killed.' So far as I know…

  'It was my fault, Tom…' Her face crumpled and she began to cry.

  He squeezed her hand. 'No, it wasn't.'

  'It was, the bonnet came up and I lost control.'

  'How d'you mean, the bonnet came up?'

  'It just did, in front of my face. I'd just overtaken the lorry and it came up.'

  The sister came over. 'Are you all right, Mrs Jones?'

  'She's just come round,' Tom said unnecessarily.

  'I can see that. How are you feeling?' she asked Holly.

  'Terrible headache.'

  'I'll get you something for it.' To Tom she said, 'Please try not to excite or upset her.'

  'It wasn't your fault,' Tom repeated after the sister had gone. 'Tell me what happened…'

  They gave her a sedative and some painkillers. When she'd calmed down, Tom left her with Kath and phoned Henry to give him the news. He drove back to Sticklepath to bring them in, then hired a Vauxhall Vectra and went to look at the Cooper for himself.

  'Well, there she is.'

  'Is it a write-off?'

  The police vehicle examiner tilted his hand from side to side. 'Depends how much you love her, I suppose.'

  At that moment, the Cooper was looking more pathetic than lovable and Tom realised how lucky Holly had been.

  'I'll just collect a couple of things, then,' he said.

  'It's your car.'

  He wrenched the door open, found his gun under the dash and slipped it into his pocket – Holly didn't have a licence, so he could have been in trouble if the police had found it first. Then he went to the front and prised up the bonnet.

  It had been twisted out of shape by its impact with the central barrier, which might have explained the broken safety catch. It didn't, however, explain why the main catch had been screwed down so that it couldn't engage with the bonnet, or the three lumps of Blu-Tack stuck at intervals along the sill.

  He called the vehicle examiner over.

  He looked at them, said, 'This being a Mini, the bonnet would have come unstuck at about sixty, I should think.'

  'She'd just overtaken a lorry.'

  'That would be about right, then. Have you made any enemies lately, sir?'

  'Looks that way, doesn't it?'

  He drove to the police station and told Bennett.

  'Was it meant to kill you, d'you think?' Bennett asked. 'Plenty of people have survived loose bonnets before.'

  'My wife nearly didn't.'

  'No.'

  Tom said, 'I had been wondering whether it was meant to delay…' He told him about his planned trip to Poole.

  'How many people knew about that?'

  'Quite a few, I didn't make a secret of it.'

  They tossed around a few ideas before Tom went back to the hospital.

  Holly was looking much better, but they were going to keep her in overnight for observation. Tom took Henry to one side and told him he was going to Poole in the morning.

  'I'd have thought you'd have wanted to stay with your wife,' Henry said.

  Tom explained about the Cooper. 'I want to catch the – the person who did it. They didn't want me to go to Poole for some reason, so the best way of catching them is to find out why not.'

  Henry thought about it, then nodded. 'I take your point,' he said. 'But when you do find out, you'll leave the rough stuff to the police, won't you? One casualty in the family's enough for now.'

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tom left for Poole at eight the next morning. The hospital had told him that Holly had had a good night and would probably be discharged later in the day.

  He had plenty of time for thinking during the three-hour journey. He thought he knew who'd booby-trapped the Cooper but didn't yet understand why they didn't want him to go to Poole.

  He arrived at just before el
even and found the General Hospital, which was on the same site as the Transfusion Centre. He'd subconsciously expected Dr Mike Derby to be as brash and confident as his father-in-law had been, so he was surprised to be faced with a slight, bespectacled figure with a diffident manner.

  'So you m-made it, Mr Jones.' He held out his hand. 'C-come along to my office… Now, how c-can I help you?' The stutter hadn't been quite so apparent on the phone.

  Tom commiserated with him for his loss of his father-in-law before coming to the point.

  'Were you aware of the rumour that Dr Goring was keeping East Dorset open so that you could become its new research director?'

  Derby gave an ironic chuckle. 'I c-could hardly not be aware of it. I was watching the TV interview myself, with one of my c-colleagues… it was ac-cutely emb-barrassing.'

  Tom didn't say anything and after a pause, Derby continued: 'I won't deny that I'd have l-liked the job, but I'm sure the decision to keep East Dorset open was nothing to do with my amb-bitions.'

  'Why are you so sure?'

  'B-because I only heard about the post three months ago. The decision to keep the centre open was taken six months ago.'

  Which was fair enough, Tom thought – assuming Derby was telling the truth about his ignorance. 'You said just now that you would have liked the job – aren't you still applying for it?'

  'N-no.' He sighed. 'I've withdrawn. Had to really, after the TV interview. N-no one would've believed I'd got it on my own m-merits.'

  'Is that really still the case, now that your father-in-law's dead?'

  'It w-wouldn't be in g-good taste now, anyway.'

  He had a point there, Tom thought. They talked for a little about the progress of the police enquiry, then shook hands again before he left.

  Dr Goldman was a different matter altogether. He began by telling Tom how lucky he was to be seen at all that week, then, although he obviously knew why Tom was there, visibly fluffed out his feathers when he told him.

  'It's a tissue of lies,' he said as though Tom had been personally responsible for it, 'an insult to the memory of a decent man.' He himself was a small man, white of hair and face, with lines around a rather pinched mouth.