over a situation, the only thing to do is sit back and allow events to take their course. The outcome will be the same, whether you worry or not.”
But then a fireman would say that. It took courage and blind faith in your strength and ability to survive, to walk into a burning building, and that same faith had killed Joseph. He must have known that the roof of the burning house was unstable, but he’d also known there were children inside. And Joseph would never ask one of his men to go anywhere he wouldn’t go himself.
Joseph had suffered the worst that could happen, maybe now it was her turn. But would death be so terrible if Joseph were waiting for her? And if he wasn’t, there’d only be nothingness. A nothingness that suddenly petrified her.
The corridor was deserted. She could hear the television droning in the canteen and wondered if there was an audience to hear it.
West hesitated and the pressure of the muzzle against her neck increased slightly.
‘Lifts either end of the building with stairwells running alongside?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but the ones behind us are out of order.’ She wished she could stop shaking.
He pushed her towards the stairwell ahead of them.
One of the wheels on the chair continued to squeal like a kitten in pain. Elizabeth saw their reflection mirrored in the windowpanes. West was turning his head from side to side, constantly monitoring the corridor. She wished she could read his thoughts.
West knew that if Elizabeth had alerted the army or the police they would have set an ambush. He didn’t know how the police would react, but he knew army methods. Doors would be slightly ajar in the corridor and behind them would be men armed with guns, gas canisters and stun mechanisms ready to move in on him the second the signal was given. The ambush would take place in an area which a lone man with a gun couldn’t cover. Somewhere like a stairwell.
He reached the lift but walked past it. If he used it, he’d be trapped and immobilised the instant they cut off the electricity and dropped a gas canister down the shaft.
He reached the end of the corridor and noticed a shadow lurking in the stairwell. He hauled the chair back.
‘They’re covering the stairs,’ he hissed.
‘I warned you that you’d never get out of here. The hospital is being searched.’
He looked at the glass door, and realised he had no choice. If he was going to reach the ground floor, he’d have to face the army at some point. He put his back to the door, opened it and dragged Elizabeth and the wheelchair through behind him. There was no sign of the shadowy figure he’d spotted and he assumed the man was patrolling further down the staircase.
‘If you intend to take me down the stairs, I’m going to have to get out of this wheelchair.’ Elizabeth managed to keep her voice steady. Apart from the gun barrel caressing her neck, West ignored her. He stood with his back to the wall, his eyes ranging wide as they focused first on the stairwell, then on the corridor behind them.
Suddenly he lurched forward. Elizabeth braced herself against the sickening, bone-crunching jolts as he bumped the wheelchair downwards. A figure appeared below them, and West fired without hesitation. A gasp was followed by the crash of a door slamming back on its hinges.
‘I have a hostage,’ West shouted. He gripped a handful of Elizabeth’s hair and yanked hard. If he’d hoped to elicit a scream, he was disappointed; all she could manage was a choking sob. ‘The next shot goes into her head.’
A disembodied voice floated up the stairwell.
‘How do we know the hostage is still alive?’
‘Tell them you’re all right,’ West ordered.
‘I’m all right.’ Mechanically, Elizabeth repeated his exact words.
‘Dr Santer? Is that you?’
Elizabeth recognized Major Simmond’s voice. ‘He has a gun… ’
‘Try to keep calm. We’ll soon resolve this situation.’
‘Only if you let me take her down to the ground