Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (9 page)

“No Jack, I would prefer if you would stay
here and find
out as
much as you can and then come to see me later,” Robert said.
Jack smiled warmly at Robert to give the impression that he was
being fooled by the diversionary request. Robert had some other reason why he didn’t want Jack to go with him to the hospital and Jack
had the strong suspicion that reason had a lot to do with the bomb. If
Robert did suspect someone of planting the bomb then he, or they,

were no longer safe. If they were still in the country then they would
soon disappear, permanently, and if they had already slipped through
South
Africa’s notoriously
porous borders then Robert would be sure
to hunt them down no matter how far they travelled. The settling of
such scores in other countries was never a straightforward pursuit, but
even the UK government would understand the need for such a reckoning, given the circumstances.

Jack stood to one side as the paramedics stretchered Robert
out of
the car
park into the street. For a
brief
moment Jack found himself
completely alone in the car park. The dust thrown up by the blast still
hung heavily in the air and the smell of fuel remained potent. He carefully made his way through the maze of wreckage in the hope that he
might
come across another injured person—perhaps knocked unconscious by the blast—who knew
more about what was going
on than
Robert
pretended not to know. There were no further signs of life. That
Robert was treated last meant that his condition was not as serious as
the
others who were carried to safety
before him—or it could have
meant that his condition was so bad that they
didn’t believe that he
could
be saved—ethics mean that
every injured person had the right
to be treated but pragmatism in incidents such as that mean that the
main
aim was to save as many
someone
who was
quite clearly
other people who might
be saved if their injuries are treated in time
simply
made
sense—except to the seriously injured person and their
loved ones.

Jack spotted what looked like a metal tube—it was badly scorched
which made proper identification from a distancea little difficult. The
object was suspiciously like something that the Islamic fundamentalists had used in the past as detonators when carrying out those kinds
of attacks. Sometimes the tubes were spent artillery shells, and sometimes they were custom made for a particular attack. Jack took a pen
from his jacket pocket and he bent down to take a closer look at the
object. He carefully probed the metal object with his pen, but after a
careful examination he concluded that it could have been anything.
Jack stood up just as someone entered through the entrance at the front
of the car park. At first the person didn’t see Jack standing at the side of
the car park where he found the metal cylinder. Jack was just about
to call over to the stranger to get him to have a look at the metal

object, but before he had a chance to call out, the man looked over at
Jack, paused for a moment, and then he broke into a sudden sprint as
he fled out into the street from where he came. Jack gave chase quickly
but by the time he got out onto the street, the man had gone.

Several paramedics were milling around at the front
of the building and Jack hurried over to a paramedic who was closest to the entrance when the man ran off.

The paramedic paused and then said,
excitedly,
“Yeah, he almost
knocked me down
on the way
out. He ran
off
down the street. I lost
sight
of him in the crowd. Why? Do you think that he has something
to do with the bomb,” the man asked, hopefully.

“Possibly,” Jack replied.
like that.”
The paramedic grinned.
“My friend, this
entire country is
packed with
men and woman
who are running away from something. There is every possibility that
guy
had simply
gone inside to see what
he could see and when he
saw you he thought that you might
be police,
or something. I really
wouldn’t read too much into it.”
Jack touched the man on the shoulder as he started to walk away.
“You are probably right, but I think that I will let the police know
what happened, just to be safe,” Jack added.
Jack had no intentions
of
calling in with the police to tell them
about the
man. The less the police knew about the
man, the
better.
Jack walked to the other side of the street. His training back in Scotland in the 1970s kicked in—he was told all those years ago to step
back and look at a scene from a distance. He was told not to focus on
the main hub of activity as that was often little more than a distraction. It made sense—if a bomb went
off you were unlikely to find the
bomber standing yards from the
explosion admiring his
handiwork.
What was more likely was to find the bomber a short distance away so
that they could admire what they had done, yet at the same time stay
far enough away to avoid being caught.
On the other side of the street Jack began to take in the scene.

People had initially run away from the building, like a wave heading
out to sea, but as the dust settled, and against the demands of the police, the people were now rushing back towards the building to have a
look at what was going on. There were shootings everyday in the city,
and even the odd small yet deadly car bomb, but a blast
on this scale
was something that didn’t come along everyday and the people wanted
to be part of the story.

There was an almost
morbid inevitability about what was about
to happen next
the
crowd was
but Jack feared that he could do nothing about it. If

not
prepared to listen to the instructions issued to
them
by the police then there was little point
of Jack stepping up and
making a fool
of
himself.
As the crowd began to surge forwards a
second
explosion ripped through the underground. The blast hit Jack
but he was able to keep his feet, which was more than the majority
of
the encroaching crowd could manage. Those at the front
of the crowd
bore the brunt
of the explosion as bits of masonry tore through them.
The rows behind were slightly shielded by the sacrifice made by the
leading
edge
of
people,
but the
power
of the
blast at
such a
close
distance meant that the experience was far from pleasant.

The wave of humanity was on the move once again as people clambered to their feet and they
began to rush away from the building.
Jack instinctively looked up—the first blast was the more powerful of
the two and it had really rattled the entire building,
but the second
blast
did not
have to be very
powerful to bring the building
down.
Jack looked for any
signs
of
movement
on the upper floors
of the
tower. There were none.

Jack’s attention returned to the scene of terror and confusion. People were pushing each other out of the way as they tried to make their
escape. Some of the policemen and paramedics were also trying to clear
out
of the area, while those a little more dedicated,
or foolhardy, cautiously
made their way
back towards the smouldering building. Jack
scanned the area. If this was the work
of
one
of the Islamist groups
then there was no guarantee that more devices would not
explode; or
perhaps they would follow the explosions up with a gun attack—another favourite tactic that they
often used. Jack’s knowledge
of these
groups indicated that he should be looking for motorcycles,
especially
those carrying passengers. Therewere none, which was unusual in that