James
Richard is already here, his face smudged with smoke but talking into a phone as he looks up. Will Stanton directs operations with a team armed and wearing helmets and flak jackets.
Michael scowls as he sees the Police Commissioner.
Of course, it was Will who planted the idea in Charlotte’s mind in the first place of her acting as bait….
It’s likely to be a while before those two are friends.
Michael heads across to talk to Richard.
High above, helicopters are buzzing the building, the top floors. Straining to look up, I walk slowly backwards, trying to get the angle to see what is happening.
Where is she?
The sky spits needles of sleet and repeatedly I have to wipe my eyes to see. As it is, sharp points of ice nip at my upturned face; a bleak contrast to the heated stink of the air in the stairwell. Despite the bitter gnawing of the winter, I welcome the cold.
I can’t see what’s happening at the penthouse level. I keep reversing away from the building, ignoring the growing cramp in my neck. Abruptly I find myself backed into the cordon, almost falling backwards over the rope as police mill around, keeping gawpers at bay.
What is it about crowds that makes people stupid?
“Hey, that's Alexanders…!”
“Catch him quick. Get a comment….”
I turn to find a microphone thrust into my face, a nasal voice making demands. “Mr Alexanders, as a director of the Haswell Corporation, who do you believe is responsible for this outrage? What have you to say about these terrible events?”
“Fuck off and get out of my way.” I brush the fool to one side, ignoring his spluttered protests as I return my attention to the rescue effort going on hundreds of feet above me.
“Get back. Get back….” Police push the moronic reporter back to a safe distance.
Straining my vision to pick out the detail, way up, I see a doll-sized figure being winched away from the rooftop and into one of the choppers. A minute later, and another follows.
Is that them?
Is she safe?
from so far away, I simply cannot be sure it was Beth and my Green-Eyes I have seen. My breathing is short and shallow. Deliberately, I take a couple of deep breaths, filling my lungs, trying to clear my head and the smog around
are sweeping away across the City. As I watch them, something else dawns on me. Something
Where are they all?
should be people leaning out
There is no-one
background, I hear the reporter
that terrible tragedy has been averted. On this Christmas day, the hundreds of employees and visitors
Christmas Day?
How did that happen?
calling,
a phone in the
One might think the relief would be instant, the knowledge enough to give
pricking behind the lids. A little light-headed, I bend,
and startled, I look up…. Richard, his hand cupping
“You alright?”
“I will be, now.”
white cook’s overalls setting up a mobile
did
there’s a crowd, there’s a penny
pointing a finger
you know
nods his head out at the crowd. “The TV crew
I hide my smile.
you’re selling from that van, you’re giving it
“But….”
food and hot drinks. Send me
The man scuttles inside, re-emerging a minute later with two paper cups of black coffee. Richard thrusts one of them at me. “Drink it. Clear your head.” He runs a critical eye over me,
hand. “Don’t
now and get plenty more going. It’s going to
need more than caffeine. The body can’t run on
“Mmmm.”
apparently watching the fire crews as more engines move into position,
nothing to be ashamed off,” he murmurs. “I felt just the same when I realised I’d sent Elizabeth upwards when I should have gotten her out