The Profit Motive, page 4
part #2 of Sterling and Mason Series
Clarke jogged back. “Right lads, two people in the SUV in a bad way. Bring that lot.” He indicated the hydraulic pump and picked up the first aid kit.
Carrying as much gear as they could, Adam and Lenny followed. The SUV had hit the central concrete barrier separating the two carriageways, the passenger side taking the brunt of the crash. The impact had forced the front wheel under the chassis and buckled the floor of the vehicle, but the crazed windscreen remained in one piece. Airbags had deployed and lay like flags of surrender inside the cab. Two casualties lay unmoving in the front.
After stabilising the vehicle, Adam examined the driver through the shattered side window while Lenny checked the far side. The driver, a young woman with shoulder-length blond hair, was still breathing but hadn’t regained consciousness. Adam applied a surgical collar, taking care not to move her neck.
Lenny returned. “I can’t get to him from the other side, I’ll have to climb through the back.”
“How is he?” Adam whispered, examining the back door which looked undamaged.
“Not good. Femur,” Lenny said out of the corner of his mouth.
They needed to hurry and Adam reached into the back to unlock the door. It opened with a jerk and Lenny climbed in behind the driver before sliding across to check the passenger. Adam examined the driver, but apart from the bump on her head, couldn’t find any obvious injuries.
He supported her head and checked on Lenny. The top of the gear lever had punctured the passenger’s right thigh, but there wasn’t much blood. His left thigh, shortened and swollen, resembled an overinflated rugby ball. Where the hell was the ambulance? A siren wailed, but it sounded far away. Lenny used his belt line to fashion a tourniquet which he applied to the top of the passenger’s left thigh, grunting with the effort as he worked in the cramped space.
The driver regained consciousness and tried to pull away. “Don’t struggle,” Adam said, “I’m here to help you.” She stopped fighting him. “My name’s Adam, I’m a firefighter. You’ve had an accident, but help is here and you’ll be okay.” He paused to see if she had taken in his words. “What’s your name?”
She blinked, then said, “Rajiv!”
He held her head. “Don’t move. Rajiv is just here. He’s unconscious, but he’s got good people taking care of him. He’ll be fine.” Adam hoped he was right. He asked her name again and this time she told him.
“Kate, are you in pain? Do any parts hurt?”
She hesitated a few seconds, then said, “Just my head and body.”
He grinned. “That’s a good sign. Can you move your limbs?”
She flexed her arms, but took a sharp intake of breath when she moved her left leg. “My knee’s sore.”
“Okay, don’t move it. Paramedics will be here soon and we’ll get you out.” Why the hell hadn’t the ambulances arrived? They must have sent a few.
“Adam, can you hold my hand?”
Supporting her head with his left hand, he offered her his right. She grasped it, her grip surprisingly strong, and he maintained a narrative, hoping to keep her calm. Shouts came from the van and he glanced across. Mal rushed up to Sub Officer Clarke carrying a crowbar. He seemed agitated and pointed at the back of the van. Adam swallowed: it took a lot to get Mal worked up.
Mal and Clarke approached the back doors, ten paces from where Adam stood. Mal inserted the end of the Halligan tool under the door and pulled on the other end. The sound of ripping metal, then events moved at speed.
Clarke shouted, “Mal, get the door shut!”
Mal had already started but, as he pushed the door, flames appeared at the edge. The door slammed into him, hurling him into the road and knocking his helmet off. A fireball shot out of the back doors and engulfed him. Adam remembered to hold his breath and turned away, blocking the open window with his torso. A blast of searing heat struck Adam an instant before he heard the detonation. The SUV rocked as something like a giant fist pushed him into the door.
The car rocked, then an explosion made her ears ring. Kate gasped and gripped the fireman’s hand. “What’s happening?”
“Don’t move your head.” He sounded far away.
“What was that?”
“Nothing to worry about, just a spot of bother with the van over there.” He spoke in a calm voice and gave her hand a squeeze. “We’ll soon have you out of here.”
Her hearing cleared, and from the other side of the car came the sound of a labouring motor. Kate attempted to control her panic. Unable to move her head, she could only see in front of her, the crazed pattern of the damaged windscreen.
The waves of heat blasting through the open window lessened, but sounds of tearing metal came from her left. She remembered Rajiv’s expression of terror just before impact. She tightened her grip on the fireman’s hand and tried to remember his name. Someone slid across the seat behind her.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice quivery.
“Lenny’s getting out.” The fireman said in a soothing tone. “Lenny, say hello to Kate.”
“Hi Kate, pleased to meet you.” A new, older voice spoke from behind her. “Sorry about getting in the car without asking.”
His words faded as he left the car and spoke to someone outside.
“Kate, it’s Adam. This is Andy, he’s a paramedic and he’ll take care of Rajiv.”
A new person greeted her and slid across the back seat. A low groan came from Rajiv. The newcomer spoke to him and something hissed, like trapped air escaping from a bottle.
Panic gripped Kate. “What’s happening to Rajiv?”
“We’re giving him some gas to reduce the pain. He’s broken his leg,” Adam said.
She remembered the photo of Rajiv, holding a football trophy, on his desk and felt hollow. “Will he be okay?”
“Sure,” Adam said. He spoke to someone outside before adding, “Kate, I’m going to cover you with a blanket. Don’t be alarmed but we need to get the windscreen out and I don’t want you covered in broken glass.”
“Okay, but don’t go.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m not going anywhere, I’d have to do some work if I did. I’ll let go now but I’ll still be here.”
As he pulled away she stopped herself crying out, and after a few seconds he returned.
“Close your eyes, I’m going to put the fire-blanket over you.”
Rough fabric covered her head and through her eyelids darkness descended. The fabric touched her lips and a panicky breath heated the skin around her mouth. She stifled the urge to scream as a childhood nightmare threatened to return.
From under the brim of his helmet Adam studied the van, ten metres away. Two uniformed figures lay on the ground and he had to stop himself charging over to help. Clarke sat up, blood covering the lower half of his face. Mal stayed down. Shouts came as if from a distance. Figures appeared, rushing to assist.
One of the rescuers grabbed Mal’s tunic and pulled him clear of the flames. Unsteady, he struggled to his feet. Next to him, Steve helped Clarke to his feet. Blood flowed from a cut on the bridge of the sub’s nose but he looked determined. Flame boiled out of the rear of the van, too close to the car. Adam edged round to shield Kate. At least he had a tunic and helmet to protect him. The van must be full of cylinders.
Clarke grabbed Steve. “I need two jets laid out to the back of the van.”
A yell of fear came from the front of the van and Adam hoped Kate hadn’t heard it. Mal picked up the Halligan tool and rushed to help. The two men in the cab cowered against the windscreen, keeping clear of the hot bulkhead. Adam became aware of the stink of fuel oil. What could he do if the car caught fire? They’d have to drag Kate out but what about Rajiv? He returned his attention to the SUV. Under the fire blanket, Kate had gone quiet but her strong grip on his hand reassured him.
He watched Mal insert the crowbar into the gap below the lock of the van’s passenger door, and pull. The door popped but, before Mal could help the occupant, the man leaped to the ground, stumbling as he landed. One of the other firefighters put out an arm to steady him, but the man shook him off and hobbled away at speed.
“Over here, mate,” Mal called to the van driver, but he seemed paralysed.
Mal ran round the front of the van to the other side and Adam heard him attempting to open the door as the driver yelled out. Kate didn’t seem to hear the man’s cries. The door-lock gave with the sound of tearing metal. Mal and another firefighter helped the man towards the pump where the driver gave him first aid.
Adam turned his attention to the back of the van. The radiated heat, from the mass of flames erupting from the rear, made his skin tight. The stench of smoke and gas drifted toward him. Lines of hose snaked across the ground to the rear of the van and three men directed water into the flames. The dense spray turned into a cloud of steam. Adam wasn’t sure if any of the water was hitting the cylinders. What did they contain? From the force of the explosion, he guessed Propane. Not as dangerous as Acetylene, but they must cool the cylinders to stop any more exploding.
Clarke, blood still covering his jaw, shouted, “Lads, move back. I’m getting a ground monitor set up.”
More lines of hose appeared and two firefighters positioned a ground monitor, directing it into the back of the van. When it started pouring water on the cylinders, Adam relaxed and concentrated on his casualty.
Once they’d removed the windscreen, the extraction team peeled back the roof. The paramedics connected Rajiv to a drip.
The crumpled floor of the vehicle had wrapped round his foot. Using winches, they pulled the front and back of the SUV apart while another team used a small spreader alongside his leg. The difficulty of unpeeling the metal from the foot, without causing more damage, made this slow work. Adam supported Kate’s head in one hand and held her hand with the other, frustrated at not being able to help. With a screech of tearing steel, they released Rajiv’s left leg. Now for his other, still impaled on the gear lever. Lenny appeared beside Adam with a pneumatic saw.
“Kate.” Adam’s voice carried above the background noise. “We need to reach across to help Rajiv. Lenny will lean across you so don’t be alarmed.”
“Or slap me,” Lenny said. “That usually happens when I end up in a young lady’s lap.”
Kate gave a weak laugh.
“I’ll have to let go of you but I’m not going anywhere.” Adam extracted his hand before moving back to give Lenny room.
He held the back of Lenny’s tunic to stop him falling in as he leaned into the car. Lenny warned Kate and Rajiv about the noise then began sawing, filling the air with the stink of lubricating oil. Adam considered if he should have given Kate ear defenders but, with the roof off, the sound wasn’t too bad.
The operation to cut through the hardened steel took an age and by the time Lenny finished, leaving the top of the gear stick imbedded in Rajiv’s thigh, sweat dripped off his forehead onto the blanket. He withdrew from the car and Kate seized Adam’s hand.
Across on the passenger side, the extraction crew placed a bright yellow spine board behind Rajiv’s back and his removal could begin. Despite the anaesthetic gas he’d been given, the young man cried out when the crew lifted him. Kate moaned and crushed Adam’s fingers.
Instinctively, Adam checked the van again. They were so close the flash and crack of the explosion arrived simultaneously. The van lifted off its wheels and a fireball burst out of the back, a wall of flame rushing towards him.
CHAPTER 6
Wenzhou City, Zhejiang Province, China
The combination of exhaustion and caffeine made Jie’s hand tremble as he reached for the crumpled pack of Hongta Shan. Just two left - had he smoked a full pack since this morning? So much for the promise to his wife to cut down. But this was an unusual day, even Mei would have to agree.
The clock on the wall opposite his desk clicked as both hands came into alignment. Lunchtime and he’d still not rung the consul. He stared at his telephone for almost a minute before picking up the handset and dialling the number he’d scribbled on his note pad. A young female voice answered in Mandarin, and he introduced himself, demanding to speak to the consul.
Piped music came on the line then a halting voice in heavily accented Mandarin said, “Senior Inspector Jie?”
Jie replied in his best English. “Good afternoon, sir, is the British Consul?”
A relieved voice replied, “Good afternoon, St John Wilson at your service. How may I help you, Senior Inspector?”
It took Jie a few moments to work out what the other man had said. “We have British man injured in…” He didn’t know how to describe what had happened but decided on the safest choice. “Auto accident.” He read from his pad, “Mr Oliver Hetherington.” As he’d feared, he struggled to pronounce the surname, a fact confirmed by the silence at the other end. A second attempt met with the same result. Spelling it out was not an option.
“Do you want to email me the details?” Wilson said, coming to his aid.
“Yes, I email.” Jie scribbled down the email address.
“How is Mr … err … Oliver?”
“A car hit him.” Jie groped for the phrase ‘hit-and-run’ but his limited English let him down. “I email all details, okay?”
“Good idea,” Wilson agreed.
The two men ended the call and Jie summoned his assistant, Tang. He should have let her make the call. He gave her the email address and told her to send the details to the consul, making sure she described the accident as a hit-and-run. Before she left, Jie asked her about the enquiries into where Hetherington had been before the accident.
Tang shuffled her feet. “We’ve found no one who saw him.”
Jie couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Have you checked all the places?”
“Yes sir, all those open last night.” Tang looked contrite. “Do you want me to expand the area we’re investigating?”
Jie reached for another cigarette, his last, but realising he had one still smouldering in the ashtray, put the pack away and retrieved it. He ignored the ash fluttering over his papers and took a lungful of sweet-tasting smoke. “Okay, forget it for the moment.”
The door to his office opened and one of the uniformed inspectors barged in. Jie recognised the self-important young officer and glared at him.
“Sorry, sir.” The Inspector backed out and knocked at the door.
Jie made him wait before responding. The man was a snitch, and Jie suspected he’d been sneaking in and going through his papers.
The Inspector came back in, bowing. “I thought you’d want to know. I’ve found where the man went.” The Inspector preened. “I found a taxi driver who picked him up from a restaurant and took him to The Golden Garter.” The Inspector gave Tang a superior smirk before adding, “Do you want me to follow—?”
“No, thank you, Inspector, Sergeant Tang will follow it up. She has my full confidence.”
The Inspector deflated, and throwing up a salute, backed out of the room.
“Get down there and question the manager,” Jie said. “Find out who he was with, and see if they have CCTV in case his attacker followed him from there.”
Tang drove to The Golden Garter, relieved the senior inspector had decided not to come. He was a good boss, rarely taking the credit due to his subordinates, unlike most of the other senior officers she’d come across. He’d even stood up for her against that arrogant uniformed inspector, but he could be an embarrassment. Good thing they’d gone to the Imperial in the early hours. Her husband and his friends often went there for drinks after work and if they’d seen her with Jie: that shirt… she shuddered.
She manoeuvred the Xiali down an alley, wincing as it lurched into the potholes. One thing Jie was right about: this car was a shed, but she could never buy a foreign car.
Her destination wasn’t inviting. A pair of scarred wooden doors, of indeterminate mud colour, stood ajar under a crude figure of a woman singing into a mic. She’d been to one of these places before, one of the few times work-colleagues invited her out with them, and the memory still gave her nightmares.
After locking the car, she entered the premises. A small entrance area, empty except for a lectern desk, led to a long flight of stairs. Wondering how many inebriated clients tumbled down them, she walked up toward the reception. In the light of day, the place looked dingy and stank of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Dirt and small burn marks disfigured the lurid patterned carpets. She guessed the clientele wouldn’t notice them in the dim lighting during opening hours.
A shrill-voiced woman was speaking to two uniformed officers. She wore a red silk housecoat with a dragon motif plastered across it, fluffy slippers and her hair in curlers. Tang wasn’t seeing her at her best.
“Mrs Bao?”
“Yes, I am the manager here. Who are you?”
“Sergeant Tang. Thank you for seeing me.”
“As if I had a choice.” Mrs Bao looked unimpressed to be speaking to a mere sergeant and, even worse, a woman.
“This man came here last night?” Tang pointed to an enlarged print of the photo taken from Oliver Hetherington’s passport.
“As I told those two, he came here, but he was fine when he left.”
“I’m sure.” Tang tried to mollify her. “We need to know when he arrived, what time he left and so on. Did he arrive or leave with anybody?”
Mrs Bao became animated, “Oh yes, he arrived with Mr Yuan. He’s the manager of that big factory always in the news, Red Dawn. Mr Yuan is a very good customer and always brings his important visitors here.”
Tang suppressed a surge of excitement. They’d interviewed Yuan after the last hit-and-run and Tang had been sure he’d lied to them. And it couldn’t be a coincidence for two people involved with Red Dawn to have suffered similar accidents. Whatever Jie said, this was a serious case, an attempted murder of a European. Her hand shook as she wrote the name in her notebook.
