Read Online By Any Name by Katherine John - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katherine John
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and ask him to fetch the army officers along with the wheelchair, she tried to plan what she would do when he returned with the chair. She couldn’t understand why the corridor wasn’t crawling with police. Shouldn’t they be searching every inch of the hospital and wouldn’t it be logical to start at the top of the building and work down?
The porter returned with a chair. ‘Here you are, doctor. Only had to go down to five to get it.’
She blocked his path as he reached past her to open the door.
‘I’d be happy to give you a hand with her.’
‘I can manage. She’s in a bit of a state.’
‘So what’s new? I’ve seen it all before.’
‘She’d be embarrassed. You being a colleague.’
Elizabeth put her hands on the back of the chair and pulled it towards her, creating a barrier between them.
‘If that’s what you want,’ he capitulated. ‘Don’t try to take her down in the lifts on the west side. They’re out of commission.’
‘Packed up again?’
‘No, they’ve cornered him in a room near the lift-shaft on six.’
‘John West?’
‘If that’s the name of the psycho who topped the two soldiers.’
‘You sure they’ve got him?’ She tried not to sound surprised.
‘If they haven’t, half the army is down there for nothing. Rumour has it he’s locked himself into the sister’s office with a nurse. But he won’t be there long. They’ve assembled more hardware in that corridor than I’ve seen in the television footage of Iraq.’
‘Shouldn’t you be helping with the evacuation of the patients?’ she suggested, willing him to leave.
‘Our Mr Trist’s got the army doing that. Here let me.’ He leant over her shoulder to push open the door.
She backed in slowly, trying to think how John could be in a room on the sixth floor, when she’d just spoken to him here, on the eighth. Then it came to her.
She’d taken so long to fetch a wheelchair he’d 68
panicked and moved on through the window – but the nurse…
‘You sure you don’t need me?’ the porter looked over her shoulder.
‘She’s in one of the cubicles. Thank you for your help, but I really can take it from here.’
‘As you wish,’ whistling again he went on his way.
‘Anything new?’ Major Simmonds negotiated a path through the squad of silent, grim-faced soldiers who’d trained their weapons over every inch of the corridor on Ward Six.
Ross Chaloner, the Special Forces captain in charge of the operation, shook his head. If he’d outranked the major he would have told him to bugger off. In his opinion all psychiatrists were pains, including the ones who worked for the army.
‘Getting ready to storm the office?’
The commander looked to the stairwell, where Lieutenant-Colonel Heddingham stood, deep in conversation with a senior police officer.
‘All we need is the command,’ he whispered.
‘Although it would be stupid to take any risks until we know the hostage’s condition. But, as it looks as though this particular bastard is cool enough to keep his wits about him, he’ll probably have too much sense to neutralise his hostage while he’s holed up.’
‘You think it’s going to be a long stand off?’
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Chaloner replied unhelpfully.
‘Take over, Sergeant Price,’ he ordered a short, stocky, grey-haired man. He moved away from the group of men who knelt, poised, their guns trained on the door of the office. Walking silently on rubber-soled shoes, he proceeded into the stairwell.
‘Helicopters will be here in fifteen minutes, Captain,’ Heddingham informed him briefly. He disliked Special Forces intensely, regarding them as the prima-donnas of the armed forces, but HQ had insisted they be brought in. What was infinitely worse, they had remained under the autonomous control of their own officers.
‘Do we know if he’s closed the blinds in the office, sir?’ Chaloner asked.
‘He has,’ the police officer confirmed.
‘If they’re equipped with
The porter returned with a chair. ‘Here you are, doctor. Only had to go down to five to get it.’
She blocked his path as he reached past her to open the door.
‘I’d be happy to give you a hand with her.’
‘I can manage. She’s in a bit of a state.’
‘So what’s new? I’ve seen it all before.’
‘She’d be embarrassed. You being a colleague.’
Elizabeth put her hands on the back of the chair and pulled it towards her, creating a barrier between them.
‘If that’s what you want,’ he capitulated. ‘Don’t try to take her down in the lifts on the west side. They’re out of commission.’
‘Packed up again?’
‘No, they’ve cornered him in a room near the lift-shaft on six.’
‘John West?’
‘If that’s the name of the psycho who topped the two soldiers.’
‘You sure they’ve got him?’ She tried not to sound surprised.
‘If they haven’t, half the army is down there for nothing. Rumour has it he’s locked himself into the sister’s office with a nurse. But he won’t be there long. They’ve assembled more hardware in that corridor than I’ve seen in the television footage of Iraq.’
‘Shouldn’t you be helping with the evacuation of the patients?’ she suggested, willing him to leave.
‘Our Mr Trist’s got the army doing that. Here let me.’ He leant over her shoulder to push open the door.
She backed in slowly, trying to think how John could be in a room on the sixth floor, when she’d just spoken to him here, on the eighth. Then it came to her.
She’d taken so long to fetch a wheelchair he’d 68
panicked and moved on through the window – but the nurse…
‘You sure you don’t need me?’ the porter looked over her shoulder.
‘She’s in one of the cubicles. Thank you for your help, but I really can take it from here.’
‘As you wish,’ whistling again he went on his way.
‘Anything new?’ Major Simmonds negotiated a path through the squad of silent, grim-faced soldiers who’d trained their weapons over every inch of the corridor on Ward Six.
Ross Chaloner, the Special Forces captain in charge of the operation, shook his head. If he’d outranked the major he would have told him to bugger off. In his opinion all psychiatrists were pains, including the ones who worked for the army.
‘Getting ready to storm the office?’
The commander looked to the stairwell, where Lieutenant-Colonel Heddingham stood, deep in conversation with a senior police officer.
‘All we need is the command,’ he whispered.
‘Although it would be stupid to take any risks until we know the hostage’s condition. But, as it looks as though this particular bastard is cool enough to keep his wits about him, he’ll probably have too much sense to neutralise his hostage while he’s holed up.’
‘You think it’s going to be a long stand off?’
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Chaloner replied unhelpfully.
‘Take over, Sergeant Price,’ he ordered a short, stocky, grey-haired man. He moved away from the group of men who knelt, poised, their guns trained on the door of the office. Walking silently on rubber-soled shoes, he proceeded into the stairwell.
‘Helicopters will be here in fifteen minutes, Captain,’ Heddingham informed him briefly. He disliked Special Forces intensely, regarding them as the prima-donnas of the armed forces, but HQ had insisted they be brought in. What was infinitely worse, they had remained under the autonomous control of their own officers.
‘Do we know if he’s closed the blinds in the office, sir?’ Chaloner asked.
‘He has,’ the police officer confirmed.
‘If they’re equipped with
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