“They’re dead,” said Sarah weakly. “They’re all dead. Leave them be. Let’s get out of here.”
Fresh air had never tasted sweeter as Sarah and Lafferty lay on the ground outside waiting for the ambulance to arrive. The Fire Brigade were doing their best to contain the blaze, but it was a hopeless task. The very fact that the secret lift was the only access route to the sub-basement meant that they could not tackle the seat of the blaze. The ground floor was now alight and it was more a question of stopping the fire spreading to other buildings than attempting to save the Institute.
“How are you feeling?” asked Sarah.
“You saved my life,” said Lafferty, taking her hand.
“It was the least I could do,” replied Sarah, “after all you’d done for me... Maybe we’re good for each other?”
Lafferty turned to look at her in the light coming from the fire. “Maybe we are,” he agreed, squeezing her hand.
He turned away to look at the fire and started to think about what they would tell the authorities. Would anyone believe them?
Sotillo and his henchmen were dead. Cyril Tyndall was dead and all the evidence against Murdoch Tyndall was going up in flames in front of his eyes. Apart from that, there was the disturbing question of how easy it had been for Gelman Holland to obtain a government licence for the new vaccine. Sarah had pointed out that the government had put up half the money for the Head Trauma Unit. Gelman Holland had put up the rest. Could the partnership have had a deeper significance? Was it conceivable that the government actually knew that brain-dead patients were being used as human guinea pigs for faster vaccine development?
Suddenly he caught sight of Murdoch Tyndall out of the corner of his eye. Tyndall was at the far end of the building, talking to a group of policemen. They weren’t restraining him in any way. In fact, they seemed quite deferential, looking occasionally at the flames together as if sympathising with his loss. As Sarah and Lafferty watched, a distinguished looking man wearing a dark coat was allowed through the police barrier to join the group. Lafferty didn’t recognise him but Sarah did.
“I’ve seen him on television,” she said. “He’s a junior minister in the Scottish Office.”
Lafferty nodded but didn’t say anything. He was wondering if the presence of the newcomer answered his earlier questions. He could see that Tyndall had recovered all his old self-confidence as he engaged the government man in conversation. “Tyndall doesn’t know we’re alive,” he said.
“The bastard,” spat Sarah.
“It may turn out to be our word against his,” said Lafferty, voicing his fears about lack of evidence.
“He is not going to get away with it,” said Sarah resolutely. “Even if it means sifting through the ashes of that building and checking dental records for the next year to establish the identity of the patients.”
Lafferty did not reply immediately. He was thinking about the obstacles that would be put in their way and the almost certain lack of cooperation they could expect from the authorities. He became aware that Sarah was waiting for him to say something. “Are you with me?” she asked.
Lafferty looked at her and smiled. “I’m with you, Sarah.”