and secured them with strips of plaster that cut into her flesh. The last thought to cross her mind, before a sudden painful pressure on her neck thrust her into unconsciousness, was that she had been left with no more dignity than a chicken trussed for market.
West switched off the light and moved to the window.
He pushed Elizabeth ahead of him, using her limp body as a shield. He knew the darkness wouldn’t affect his stalkers. The men outside would be wearing infra-red sights and lenses that would highlight him and Elizabeth. He pulled the bolts on the door and pushed her ahead of him into the corridor. With his back to the wall, still using Elizabeth as a shield, he inched forward, following the exit signs, until he came to an arrow pointing downwards marked BASEMENT.
Beyond it lay another stairwell – and possibly a door to the outside? Time to take a chance; there’d never be a better moment. He wrenched a fire extinguisher from the wall and hurled it against a window pane. The air was filled with the sound of splintering glass. Clutching Elizabeth’s blanket swathed body in front of his own, he threw himself and his hostage through what remained of the window.
He landed on his back in a flower-bed, Elizabeth on top of him, his outstretched hand still closed firmly around the Browning. He took a deep breath. He’d done it. He’d managed to get outside the building, and he still had his hostage and a weapon.
A tinny voice, echoed from a loudspeaker. ‘You are surrounded. I repeat, you are surrounded. You cannot escape. Release Dr Santer and surrender. I repeat, you are surrounded… ’
West grabbed the blanket he’d wrapped around Elizabeth’s head and hauled her upright. She sagged limply in his arms. He threw her over his shoulder and dived back into the shadows at the side of the hospital.
Knowing they expected him to strike out through the gardens West remained close to the building. He spotted a door set below ground level. A flight of steps led down to it. It proved pathetically easy to open. Its lock had obviously been forced at some time and ill-repaired. All he had to do was prise out the new wood that had been hammered into the frame using the scalpel he’d pushed into the pocket of his torn tracksuit. Replacing the piece of wood around the lock, he closed the door softly behind them. He stole down a flight of stairs, heading for what he hoped would be the mortuary. What better hiding place than amongst corpses.
He reached another locked door and pulled out the scalpel again. He discovered that he knew as much about picking locks as he did about firing guns. It wasn’t difficult to turn the tumblers with a narrow, sharp instrument with a curved end. After opening each door, he relocked them from the inside, stooping low to push the bolts into the floor. For the first time since the corpse of the sergeant had been pushed into his hospital room, he began to relax.
He removed the blanket from Elizabeth’s head, laid it on the floor then placed her on top of it. He was operating in pitch darkness, but didn’t dare switch on a light. He hadn’t noticed surveillance cameras in any of the rooms in the hospital, only in the corridors, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.
Sliding to the floor he placed one hand on Elizabeth’s neck to check her pulse. She was alive, but the rhythm of her breathing told him she remained unconscious. His eyes became accustomed to the darkness and he looked around for a gleam of glass that might indicate a window. Not that he expected to find any in a basement mortuary. Reassured that there was no way for anyone wearing infra-red glasses to see in, he tried to forget the pains in his ankle and head and plan his next move.
The hunt for him would have probably moved on by now, out of the hospital building and into the grounds. They’d keep up the search all night, but by morning people would be growing tired, shifts would change, and the passing of hours