Skinner's Ordeal (8 page)

`Where the Defence Secretary was sitting,' said Skinner.

She looked at him. Was he on board?'

`Yes. Let's look at the front of the tent.' Rather than walk among the rows of bodies, he led the way out of the marquee and walked along its side to the eastward entrance.

Three body bags, side by side, lay along the end canvas wall. `The flight crew?' Skinner asked.

`Yes. They were brought in about ten minutes ago.'

One of the bags seemed smaller than the others. Skinner knelt beside it and unzipped it from the top. As it opened, he saw the grey, dead, but unmarked face of April, the stewardess who had saved young Mark McGrath's life. Dark, wet hair was plastered against her temples.

Ì will order an autopsy on her, for sure,' said Sarah. 'As I thought, the two pilots have broken necks and seat-belt crushing injuries, but I'm almost certain that she drowned.'

Alarm flooded Skinner's face in an instant. She read his mind. 'No, Bob. She'd have been dead for quite a time before you found the boy. You can't save the world, you know.'

He shrugged his shoulders. It was a gesture of helpless frustration.

`These bodies here,' he asked, after a few seconds, 'these are the ones with burns?'

`Yes,' she said, 'but not like they've been in a fire.'

`Like they've been in an explosion? Like last year?'

She stared at him. She had been so involved in the gruesome business of certifying and arranging the dead that she had not had time to ask herself the questions which would have been second nature in a more normal situation.

`Yes,' she said softly. 'But not at the seat of a blast. Caught in its heat, but not torn by it.'

Ànd these are the bodies found furthest north?'

`Yes. They were still in their seats, the recovery teams said, in rows. There were none beyond them, and the whole of the northern half of the valley has been cleared. The eighteen bodies in the three front rows are the most mutilated we've recovered' She pulled down the zip of a body bag. Skinner glimpsed a black, scorched woman's face surmounted by frizzled hair.

`We've got to do some more searching,' Skinner said to Hardy, who stood stiff beside him, teeth clenched. 'So far we haven't looked south at all. We've been assuming that the plane's tail marked the beginning of the wreckage. But none of these . . .' he waved a hand towards the lines of body bags `. . can have been in the front row.

`Why not?'

`Because there are six of them to each row. Wee Mark McGrath was in the cockpit, so we know that one seat was empty when the disaster happened. Major Legge and I did an air search to the north of here and found nothing between the main crash site and the reservoir. And the divers had a look at the cockpit below the water. They reported that it was torn off around the bulkhead, with no seats attached.

`We need to find the centre of the explosion before we can begin to find the cause. Those front-row seats, and what's left of their occupants, must be out there somewhere. I have to get the choppers airborne again.'

Ònce I've done that, Secretary of State, I think it's time we gave a statement to the press.'

FIFTEEN

‘I have to tell you formally what you know already.' The Secretary of State's voice shook for a moment as he surveyed the media crammed into the back-up mobile police station.

Op 'The seven a.m. London—Edinburgh shuttle crashed on the Lammermuirs just after eight this morning, with two hundred and five people on board.

Ì have to tell you also that the passengers included Colin Davey, the Secretary of State for Defence, Roland McGrath, Parliamentary Under Secretary of State in the Scottish Office pp and Shaun Massey, the Secretary for Defense of the United States.' A flurry of hisses and gasps swept through his audience.

À full list of the dead will be issued at the conclusion of this briefing. It will show that I have lost many colleagues in addition to those in Government whom I have mentioned, including fellow members of the House, and several in the civil service. Sir James Proud, who sits beside me, has lost a distinguished serving officer, and many families have been bereaved.

`However, even in the midst of this disaster, we can take comfort from one remarkable event. One of the two hundred and five people on board the aircraft, a young child, has survived, and uninjured at that. I will not reveal his identity, although I expect that it will become public knowledge in due course. When that happens, I hope that you will all desist from doing anything which might add to his distress or affect his recovery from an event whose nature and scale he does not yet understand'

Hardy paused. 'In the main I will leave briefing on the details of the accident to the police and to the airline representatives, but I will take one or two questions'

Hands shot up, awkwardly in the enclosed space. 'Sir!' `Secretary of State!' Mr Hardy!'

Reporters shouted over each other clamouring for attention. Alan Royston, the Police Media Relations Manager stood up, calming the throng. He pointed to a Chinese girl in the front row.

Ànnabel Yi, Radio Forth. Can you give us any indication of the cause of the accident, sir.

Was it engine failure?'

Òbviously,' said the Secretary of State, precise to the end. `But the experts must confirm what caused that failure.'

Was the child on board with his parents?' asked John Hunter, an ever-present freelance whom Hardy knew well.

`With one parent, John, the fact of whose death he does not yet understand. Now no more questions on that subject, please.' Ìs he still here?' asked Annabel Yi.

`Nor said Bob Skinner firmly, from his standing position at the side of the small table.

`What effect will this have on your majority?' a tabloid reporter called from the centre of the group.

Àll parties seem to have suffered in this tragedy,' Hardy said curtly. 'I doubt if any of us are thinking of majorities right now.'

`How many MPs were on board, sir?'

`Six in all. You will see them on your list.'

`What was Mr McGrath's majority in Edinburgh Dean, Mr Hardy?'

The Secretary of State shook his head emphatically. He needed no reminding that his dead colleague's majority had been less than secure. Ì'm sorry,' he said, with a trace of temper,

'but I am not going to be drawn by that line of questioning. Ladies and gentlemen, that is all I have to say.' He stood up and left the trailer, with Skinner following. His black chauffeured Rover was parked outside, with its driver standing by, in grey uniform and peaked cap.

Ì must be on my way, Mr Skinner,' he said quietly. 'I'm going to the airport now to collect Leona McGrath. Roland's agent's meeting me there too.'

`Good luck to you both,' said the policeman sincerely. 'Tell the lady from me she's got a great wee boy. And tell her about the girl who saved his life too, will you?' For an instant, a lump rose in his throat.

Ì'll do all that. I'll tell her about you too, rescuing Mark from the plane. Jimmy Proud told me about that just before we saw the press.' His voice dropped. 'Keep me personally informed, Bob, will you, when you find the rest of the wreckage that you're after?

Personally, you understand.'

Skinner nodded. He looked after the car as it reversed out towards the moorland road.

When it was out of sight, he turned and headed away, not towards the press centre, but towards the Command unit. Suddenly a stocky dark-haired figure fell into step beside him.

It was Julian Finney, of Scottish Television. The man was, Skinner knew, a real ferret of a reporter, but he knew also that he was trustworthy.

`Sorry to doorstep you like this, Bob, but . . .'

Skinner smiled. 'Come on, Julian, you always doorstep me like this. What is it?'

`Something I didn't want to mention in there.' He nodded towards the press HQ. 'My office had a call from a woman in Longformacus, saying that she saw the plane coming down in two parts. She said that the main cabin and tail section came down without the rest. She described it very vividly. The airline guy in there, after you left, did his best to give the impression that it broke apart on impact. If I say on air tonight that eye-witnesses spoke of an explosion, would I be making a fool of myself or would I have the story of the year?'

The policeman glanced at him as they walked. Finney knew the questions to ask, all right.

'I don't hand out press awards, mate.'

`No, but if I ran that story, you wouldn't be on to the Complaints Commission either, would you?'

He stopped and looked at the man. 'just don't go over the score, Julian. You've got one eye-witness. Stick to that, don't speculate any further and you won't have any problem with me.'

`Fair enough. There's something else you should know,' Finney went on. 'I heard the guy from the Record take a call from his office. I think it was a tip-off about you — something about smashing your way into the cockpit of the plane and coming out with a kid.

There was a long silence.

`Roland McGrath had a wee boy, didn't he, Bob?'

Skinner glowered at the reporter. 'Tell you what, Julian, and you can believe me. You run any of that, and I really will crucify you.'

Ì believe you, Bob. I believe you!'

SIXTEEN

As soon as Skinner stepped back into the Command vehicle, the telephone rang. One of the two uniformed Sergeants whom Maggie Rose had pressed into service to assist her in her coordination role picked it up on the instant.

`Sir!' he called to the DCC. 'Are you available to speak with Superintendent Higgins?'

`Sure,' he said without a second's hesitation, and took the phone. 'Ali. Hello. Where are you?'

Ì'm at the St Leonards office, sir.' The normally confident Higgins sounded shaken. On another morning Skinner would have been taken by surprise.

`You heard about Roy, I take it?'

`Yes, sir. It's awful, isn't it? I feel guilty. I spoke to him yesterday. He and I had an arrangement to do performance reviews this morning. When I heard he was at the conference I called to remind him, and of course, he'd forgotten. But he promised me he'd catch the first shuttle and be here on time. "Officers' careers are more important than a few extra drinks at a stuffed-shirt dinner." That's what he said. I can't help thinking, if I had just postponed the interviews, he'd—'

`Don't, Ali. I've been doing that too. You didn't put him on that plane, and I didn't. This may sound odd coming from someone who deals in fact and logic, but it was fate; a combination of circumstances. I could have gone myself, I could have sent you, I could have sent Andy. But I didn't. I made the right choice. You could have been neglectful of your responsibilities towards junior officers, but you weren't. You can't look at it any other way. You mustn't.'

There was a long silence at the other end of the line. 'Thanks, boss. I'll bear that in mind.

But there's something else.' If anything, Higgins sounded even more agitated. 'I've just heard a radio newsflash. It said that Roland McGrath was on the plane too. Is that true?'

Ì'm afraid so. Why — d'you know him?'

`Yes. Well, not him so much, but Leona, his wife. She and I were at school together.

We've been pals since we were five. I spoke to her last a few days ago. She told me that she and Roland and their wee boy were having a week together in London, then were coming back up to Edinburgh this morning. So was she on the plane too?'

He could almost feel Higgins gripping tight to her self-control. 'No, Alison,' he said. 'She wasn't. She had a dental appointment in London. She'll be on her way up now. The Secretary of State's going to Edinburgh Airport to meet her.'

A great sigh of relief burst from Higgins, but it was cut short. `But Mark! What about Mark? I'm his godmother. Was he on board?'

`He survived, Ali. Maybe the report that you heard mentioned a survivor. It was him, and he's perfectly all right. That's fate again. It sent Roy Old to his death, but it put wee Mark on the flight deck, in a stewardess's arms, and it kept him alive.'

As Skinner finished speaking, he heard his colleague explode into tears. 'Okay, Ali, it's okay,' he said quietly. 'Why don't you go and look after your pal. Take a uniformed officer with you too, to keep the press at bay. On you go now.' He handed the phone back to the Sergeant.

Maggie Rose was looking at him, concerned. But all he could do was shrug his shoulders and turn away. 'On days like this you have a surfeit of emotion, Maggie. Not just in you, but all around you.' He forced himself back to business. 'What have you done here?'

`My role is co-ordination, sir, and that's what I'm doing, but I'm determining priorities as well. Chief Superintendent Radcliffe is directing the recovery of victims — that's objective number one. Once it's complete he'll move on to gathering in personal effects.

`The CAA people are on the scene. Their first job is looking for the flight recorder, the Black Box thing. They say it's in the cockpit, in the reservoir, so our divers are going down again to bring it out.

Ì'm focusing on identification. Look here: this is what I've done.' She led him across to a large pinboard, on the wall facing the door. Several sheets were fixed to it. 'This is the full passenger list, in seat order, and the crew list.

Ì've got three Constables — two old-stagers and a lad who volunteered — moving between here and the mortuary tents, checking each body as it's brought in, then coming back here to enter details on the lists. Those with the wee stick-on dots beside them have been identified by possessions found on them: driving licences, credit cards, that sort of thing. If the dots are yellow, that means that the bodies will be visually identified easily by next of kin. If they're red, we may need dental records.'

`This big sheet here represents the floor of the mortuary tent, where the bodies are laid out in rows of six. Each square blue sticker represents a recovered victim. Where they've been identified their seat number is written on the sticker. Obviously, the body bags are being labelled in the tent as well.'

`That's important,' said Skinner. The last thing we want to do to a distraught relative is to show them the wrong body. What about photography?'