Free Agent 21: Codebreaker: Book 3 by Chris Ryan Page B

and thirty-eight,’ Fraser replied automatically.
    ‘How many can walk?’
    ‘A . . . about half,’ he stuttered. ‘The remainder are bed-bound . . . very sick children . . . we’ll need to move their beds into the lifts and—’
    ‘Work from the top down,’ the man in the leather jacket interrupted him. ‘If the device goes off, the lifts will be out. I want the patients all congregating here in the reception area before it goes noisy outside . . .’
    ‘Wait,’ Fraser said. ‘Are you saying the bomb could go off while everybody’s still inside?’ He spun round in panic, only to see that another four plainclothes officers were expertly dealing with any arriving hospital workers, most being shepherded through the hospital towards another exit. ‘It could . . . it could kill everyone .’
    The officer gave him a flat look. ‘Then I’d say we’d better get started. Wouldn’t you?’
    0735hrs
    Jessica MacGregor was so tired that her body hurt.
    The nurses had been kind, and set up a bed for her in the room adjoining the isolation ward where her little girl, Ruby, had spent the last forty-eight hours. Poor, dear Ruby. She was only eight, but she’d already had to deal with so much. The year of treatment she’d had for her illness had been long and painful. She had lost her hair, grown painfully thin and seldom went a day without vomiting. She always had a smile on her face, but her mother could see through it. She knew it was put on for the benefit of those around her. When Ruby was asleep, the smile fell away, and so it was at night that her mother couldn’t help staring at her. It was then that she was looking at the real Ruby. So poorly. Clinging to life.
    Jessica started. Two men had entered the room and they appeared to be arguing. One of them was Dr Khan, a kind Indian man who had cared for Ruby so well. The other was a burly, broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket. ‘I’m afraid,’ Dr Khan was saying, ‘this child absolutely must not be moved. Under no circumstances will I allow it. She is very weak and highly susceptible to infection.’
    Jessica stared numbly at them. ‘What’s the matter?’ she breathed.
    Neither man answered her. ‘Doctor Khan,’ said the newcomer, ‘this device could go off at any moment . . .’
    ‘Device?’ Jessica breathed. ‘ What device?’
    ‘What degree of certainty do you have of that?’
    The man couldn’t answer.
    ‘If we move Ruby now, it is probable that she will not survive. Medicine is about the balance of risk, Officer. Ruby cannot leave the isolation ward unless she is wearing a protective suit.’ He moved to the door leading to the ward and stood meaningfully in front of it. ‘I will be staying with my patient.’
    Jessica stood up. ‘ What . . . is . . . happening? ’ she demanded.
    The two men looked at her for the first time.
    ‘Evacuation,’ said the man in the leather jacket. ‘Please proceed calmly and quietly to the lift.’
    ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said. ‘Not without Ruby.’
    The man looked at her for a brief moment. Then he spoke into a small microphone on his lapel. ‘We need a protective suit. Isolation ward, fifth floor. Now.’
    0742hrs
    Fraser Willis wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘No,’ he told the three female hospital workers whose names he should know but didn’t. ‘It’s not an exercise. We need all patients brought to reception on the ground floor . . . no, I’m not at liberty to say . . . yes, it is absolutely necessary . . .’
    The fourth-floor corridor was bedlam. It didn’t matter how calm anyone tried to be, moving twenty bedridden children, along with drip stands and oxygen canisters, was never going to be straightforward. The younger kids were crying – thin, pitiful wails. The older children were looking anxiously at their nurses for confirmation that everything was OK, like nervous airplane passengers watching the cabin crew’s faces during a period