Web Of Deceit.
In the ambulance’s passenger seat, paramedic Alex Churchill checked his mobile. There was no text from Mia. He sent her another: I’m calling Frances in five.
‘Sixty-three to Control.’ The voice burst over the radio with the sound of screaming in the background.
The hairs rising on his arms, Alex looked through the rain-speckled windscreen. His partner, Jane Koutoufides, turned in the coffee shop and met his gaze. People in the shop around her stared at the portable radio in her hand.
‘Go ahead, Sixty-three,’ Control answered.
‘Urgent backup, please. We have four code nines and one of those unconscious, six walking wounded, one car leaking fuel.’
The screaming grew louder. Alex had been there; he knew how it made you feel. He could feel it again now in the hammering of his heart.
‘Copy that, Sixty-three,’ Control said. ‘I’ll get rescue and more cars on their way.’
Alex leaned forward, ready to grab the microphone. In the shop, Jane moved towards the door. They’d heard Sixty-three dispatched five minutes ago to Botany Road, near the airport. Although they were in Glebe, Alex had done longer runs many times. You never knew how many ambulances were tied up on cases between here and there. Jane was still looking at him. He glanced away. He understood her concern, but also felt belittled by it.
At the start of the shift, she’d said in a distinctly gentle voice that they could work however he wanted, swap roles back and forth between driving and treating as often as he liked, he just had to let her know. He’d nodded, uncomfortable. This was his second week back, and sure, on a shift last week he’d had a humiliating panicked few minutes at a car accident in which a twelve-year-old girl had been trapped, but he’d pulled it together. They’d got her out, she was going to be fine. He’d hoped that this morning – his first shift with Jane since – he could walk in like nothing had happened. But perhaps it was unreasonable to expect that. She’s just trying to be helpful.
The seconds ticked by and Control didn’t call. Alex knew there were crews on closer stations being phoned and dispatched. He gestured. Jane gave a thumbs-up and faced the counter.
Alex sat back in the seat. The psychologist had talked about bringing yourself back to the present, being aware of your surroundings and breathing. He put his hand on his stomach and took a deep breath. The rain had stopped and sunlight poured through a break in the clouds to sparkle in the drops on the windscreen. He stared at the colours. It helped.
He looked at his phone again. Mia was fourteen going on twenty-one, and she’d done this before: delayed texting him back even though she was already with her after-school carers, Frances and Donald. He remembered being fourteen and feeling like he was always being told what to do and when to do it, and finding little ways to exert his own bit of control. But rules were rules, and he’d seen too much to let them be bent.
Breathe.
Jane opened the driver’s door and handed across his coffee. ‘You okay?’
‘Fine.’
Something crossed her face at his tone. She climbed behind the wheel, then nodded at the phone in his lap. ‘No response from Mia-mouse?’
‘Last time I called her that she said “I’m fourteen, not four”,’ Alex said.
Jane angled her cup towards him in salute. ‘The joys of parenthood.’
‘Yours were teens once,’ he said, feeling better now they’d changed the subject. ‘How do you survive?’
‘It’s like being a patient in a major trauma. Some of it you blank out, the rest of the time you take drugs.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘And you’re in rehab for a long time afterwards.’
‘That good?’ Alex said. ‘Perhaps I should have another.’
‘Thirty-five,’ Control said.
‘Damn,’ Jane said.
Alex grabbed the microphone as adrenaline thumped into his bloodstream again. ‘Thirty-five’s on Glebe Point Road.’
Not the screamers. Please.
‘Got an MVA for you,’ Control said. ‘Car into a pole on Wattle Street, Ultimo, outside the park, opposite the school. Cross is Quarry. Person still in vehicle, query code nine.’
‘Thirty-five’s on the case,’ Alex said.
‘Damn,’ Jane said again.
She dug a cardboard tray out of the centre console and tucked their cups into it while Alex clipped in his seatbelt, trying to calm his heart.
Jane started the engine and hit the lights and siren and pulled out into the traffic. Cars lumbered out of their way and the sun shone silver on the wet road. ‘When we get there, let me know if you want me to treat,’ she said.
He gave a terse nod. ‘I’m guessing Mia’s probably at a friend’s.’
‘Yeah,’ she said after a moment, with a sideways glance. ‘Probably. My kids were always doing that – nicking off somewhere after school and saying they forgot to let me know. You’d think the bollocking I gave them would make them remember next time, but it never did . . .’
He tuned her out as he pulled gloves onto his already clammy hands. Roads got slippery after rain. Skid, bounce up the kerb and into a signpost, minor damage, driver’s freaked out and not got out of the car yet. The way the call-takers’ computer system worked, they had to ask if the person was still in the vehicle, and if the answer was yes it automatically came through to the controller as a query trapped. Better safe than sorry, but it meant most code nines were fixed by merely opening a door. That’s all it would be this time.
‘We laugh about it now, of course,’ Jane said, doglegging through to Bay Street and popping out halfway along Wattle. ‘I tell them, wait till you have kids of your own, because then . . .’
Alex looked left and saw the accident: a silver late-model Mitsubishi sedan head-on into a power pole. Cars had stopped behind it and a couple of people stood by the driver’s closed door. The powerlines were intact, nothing was on fire. The people by the vehicle looked concerned but weren’t panicking. It’s okay.
Jane pulled up next to the car. Alex saw a thirtyish man in a business shirt in the driver’s seat, his hands white on the wheel, his forehead pressed to its top. There were no passengers.
‘He in one piece?’ Jane said.
‘As far as I can tell.’ Alex picked up the microphone. ‘Thirty-five’s on scene, will report shortly.’
‘Thanks, Thirty-five,’ Control said.
Alex grabbed the Viva out of the back and went to the driver’s door. The window was up, the lock button down. He tapped on the glass, but the man gave no indication that he’d heard. His shoulders shook as if he was crying.
Alex checked the back door, but it too was locked, as were both doors on the passenger side. He started as a truck crunched its gears on the road behind him and covered it up by turning to the four bystanders. ‘Has he been like this the whole time?’
‘First he was looking around, all panicky,’ a woman in her late teens said. She had a round face, wore jeans and a frilled white top and held a blue handbag by the strap. ‘We kept asking him through the window if he was okay, whether he could get out, but he didn’t answer. Then he just hid his face like that.’
The others nodded.
Alex looked up at the powerlines again, then down at the car. The bonnet was crumpled but not badly. It had been a fairly low impact. He shielded his eyes from the sun and leaned close to the window, peering into the car, checking what he could of the man’s body. There was no visible blood. The dash wasn’t pressing against his knees. The airbag had gone off and now lay sagging on his lap, but it was clean and bloodstain-free. He could hear the man’s weeping. He rapped on the glass again.
‘No joy?’ Jane said behind him.
He shook his head. ‘Ambulance,’ he said, close to the glass. ‘Will you please open the door?’
The man let go of the wheel and covered his face with his hands.
‘Thirty-five,’ Control called, loud and clear from the portable on Jane’s hip. ‘What’s your status?’
Crap. Alex needed this guy to unlock the doors. Until then, they couldn’t be completely certain that he could get out, and they were obliged to tell Control, who’d have no choice but to call for rescue, probably diverting them from the Botany Road job where they were really needed.
He knocked on the window with a hard fist. ‘Mate, open your door.’
The man didn’t move.
Jane leaned close to the glass. ‘C’mon, buddy, we just want to make sure you’re okay.’
Down the street, somebody blasted their horn and the man started and looked up. Alex felt the jolt of nerves too, but knocked on the window again. The man glanced at him, his face full of fear. Alex smiled and motioned for him to lower the window. The man stared wild-eyed past him at the people watching on the other side of the road.
‘Thirty-five,’ Control called again.
‘We just want to make sure you’re all right,’ Alex said to the man. ‘Then we’ll leave you alone.’
The man said something, his voice muffled by the glass.
‘Show you what?’ Alex asked.
‘He wants to see our IDs,’ Jane said. She lowered her head as she undid the button on her shirt pocket. ‘As if our uniforms and the whopping great truck behind us aren’t enough.’
Alex got out his wallet too, and they held their ID cards to the window.
‘Okay?’ Alex said.
The man hesitated, looking past them again, then reached for the button by his shoulder. The rest popped up with it.
Alex opened the door. ‘Do you have any pain? Can you move your legs?’
The man didn’t answer. His face was angular, his eyes red from crying. He wore grey trousers and a blue business shirt, the sleeves roughly rolled up, the collar unbuttoned, no sign of a tie. His hands trembled on his knees, and he smelled of sweat and fear.
In the ambulance’s passenger seat, paramedic Alex Churchill checked his mobile. There was no text from Mia. He sent her another: I’m calling Frances in five.
‘Sixty-three to Control.’ The voice burst over the radio with the sound of screaming in the background.
The hairs rising on his arms, Alex looked through the rain-speckled windscreen. His partner, Jane Koutoufides, turned in the coffee shop and met his gaze. People in the shop around her stared at the portable radio in her hand.
‘Go ahead, Sixty-three,’ Control answered.
‘Urgent backup, please. We have four code nines and one of those unconscious, six walking wounded, one car leaking fuel.’
The screaming grew louder. Alex had been there; he knew how it made you feel. He could feel it again now in the hammering of his heart.
‘Copy that, Sixty-three,’ Control said. ‘I’ll get rescue and more cars on their way.’
Alex leaned forward, ready to grab the microphone. In the shop, Jane moved towards the door. They’d heard Sixty-three dispatched five minutes ago to Botany Road, near the airport. Although they were in Glebe, Alex had done longer runs many times. You never knew how many ambulances were tied up on cases between here and there. Jane was still looking at him. He glanced away. He understood her concern, but also felt belittled by it.
At the start of the shift, she’d said in a distinctly gentle voice that they could work however he wanted, swap roles back and forth between driving and treating as often as he liked, he just had to let her know. He’d nodded, uncomfortable. This was his second week back, and sure, on a shift last week he’d had a humiliating panicked few minutes at a car accident in which a twelve-year-old girl had been trapped, but he’d pulled it together. They’d got her out, she was going to be fine. He’d hoped that this morning – his first shift with Jane since – he could walk in like nothing had happened. But perhaps it was unreasonable to expect that. She’s just trying to be helpful.
The seconds ticked by and Control didn’t call. Alex knew there were crews on closer stations being phoned and dispatched. He gestured. Jane gave a thumbs-up and faced the counter.
Alex sat back in the seat. The psychologist had talked about bringing yourself back to the present, being aware of your surroundings and breathing. He put his hand on his stomach and took a deep breath. The rain had stopped and sunlight poured through a break in the clouds to sparkle in the drops on the windscreen. He stared at the colours. It helped.
He looked at his phone again. Mia was fourteen going on twenty-one, and she’d done this before: delayed texting him back even though she was already with her after-school carers, Frances and Donald. He remembered being fourteen and feeling like he was always being told what to do and when to do it, and finding little ways to exert his own bit of control. But rules were rules, and he’d seen too much to let them be bent.
Breathe.
Jane opened the driver’s door and handed across his coffee. ‘You okay?’
‘Fine.’
Something crossed her face at his tone. She climbed behind the wheel, then nodded at the phone in his lap. ‘No response from Mia-mouse?’
‘Last time I called her that she said “I’m fourteen, not four”,’ Alex said.
Jane angled her cup towards him in salute. ‘The joys of parenthood.’
‘Yours were teens once,’ he said, feeling better now they’d changed the subject. ‘How do you survive?’
‘It’s like being a patient in a major trauma. Some of it you blank out, the rest of the time you take drugs.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘And you’re in rehab for a long time afterwards.’
‘That good?’ Alex said. ‘Perhaps I should have another.’
‘Thirty-five,’ Control said.
‘Damn,’ Jane said.
Alex grabbed the microphone as adrenaline thumped into his bloodstream again. ‘Thirty-five’s on Glebe Point Road.’
Not the screamers. Please.
‘Got an MVA for you,’ Control said. ‘Car into a pole on Wattle Street, Ultimo, outside the park, opposite the school. Cross is Quarry. Person still in vehicle, query code nine.’
‘Thirty-five’s on the case,’ Alex said.
‘Damn,’ Jane said again.
She dug a cardboard tray out of the centre console and tucked their cups into it while Alex clipped in his seatbelt, trying to calm his heart.
Jane started the engine and hit the lights and siren and pulled out into the traffic. Cars lumbered out of their way and the sun shone silver on the wet road. ‘When we get there, let me know if you want me to treat,’ she said.
He gave a terse nod. ‘I’m guessing Mia’s probably at a friend’s.’
‘Yeah,’ she said after a moment, with a sideways glance. ‘Probably. My kids were always doing that – nicking off somewhere after school and saying they forgot to let me know. You’d think the bollocking I gave them would make them remember next time, but it never did . . .’
He tuned her out as he pulled gloves onto his already clammy hands. Roads got slippery after rain. Skid, bounce up the kerb and into a signpost, minor damage, driver’s freaked out and not got out of the car yet. The way the call-takers’ computer system worked, they had to ask if the person was still in the vehicle, and if the answer was yes it automatically came through to the controller as a query trapped. Better safe than sorry, but it meant most code nines were fixed by merely opening a door. That’s all it would be this time.
‘We laugh about it now, of course,’ Jane said, doglegging through to Bay Street and popping out halfway along Wattle. ‘I tell them, wait till you have kids of your own, because then . . .’
Alex looked left and saw the accident: a silver late-model Mitsubishi sedan head-on into a power pole. Cars had stopped behind it and a couple of people stood by the driver’s closed door. The powerlines were intact, nothing was on fire. The people by the vehicle looked concerned but weren’t panicking. It’s okay.
Jane pulled up next to the car. Alex saw a thirtyish man in a business shirt in the driver’s seat, his hands white on the wheel, his forehead pressed to its top. There were no passengers.
‘He in one piece?’ Jane said.
‘As far as I can tell.’ Alex picked up the microphone. ‘Thirty-five’s on scene, will report shortly.’
‘Thanks, Thirty-five,’ Control said.
Alex grabbed the Viva out of the back and went to the driver’s door. The window was up, the lock button down. He tapped on the glass, but the man gave no indication that he’d heard. His shoulders shook as if he was crying.
Alex checked the back door, but it too was locked, as were both doors on the passenger side. He started as a truck crunched its gears on the road behind him and covered it up by turning to the four bystanders. ‘Has he been like this the whole time?’
‘First he was looking around, all panicky,’ a woman in her late teens said. She had a round face, wore jeans and a frilled white top and held a blue handbag by the strap. ‘We kept asking him through the window if he was okay, whether he could get out, but he didn’t answer. Then he just hid his face like that.’
The others nodded.
Alex looked up at the powerlines again, then down at the car. The bonnet was crumpled but not badly. It had been a fairly low impact. He shielded his eyes from the sun and leaned close to the window, peering into the car, checking what he could of the man’s body. There was no visible blood. The dash wasn’t pressing against his knees. The airbag had gone off and now lay sagging on his lap, but it was clean and bloodstain-free. He could hear the man’s weeping. He rapped on the glass again.
‘No joy?’ Jane said behind him.
He shook his head. ‘Ambulance,’ he said, close to the glass. ‘Will you please open the door?’
The man let go of the wheel and covered his face with his hands.
‘Thirty-five,’ Control called, loud and clear from the portable on Jane’s hip. ‘What’s your status?’
Crap. Alex needed this guy to unlock the doors. Until then, they couldn’t be completely certain that he could get out, and they were obliged to tell Control, who’d have no choice but to call for rescue, probably diverting them from the Botany Road job where they were really needed.
He knocked on the window with a hard fist. ‘Mate, open your door.’
The man didn’t move.
Jane leaned close to the glass. ‘C’mon, buddy, we just want to make sure you’re okay.’
Down the street, somebody blasted their horn and the man started and looked up. Alex felt the jolt of nerves too, but knocked on the window again. The man glanced at him, his face full of fear. Alex smiled and motioned for him to lower the window. The man stared wild-eyed past him at the people watching on the other side of the road.
‘Thirty-five,’ Control called again.
‘We just want to make sure you’re all right,’ Alex said to the man. ‘Then we’ll leave you alone.’
The man said something, his voice muffled by the glass.
‘Show you what?’ Alex asked.
‘He wants to see our IDs,’ Jane said. She lowered her head as she undid the button on her shirt pocket. ‘As if our uniforms and the whopping great truck behind us aren’t enough.’
Alex got out his wallet too, and they held their ID cards to the window.
‘Okay?’ Alex said.
The man hesitated, looking past them again, then reached for the button by his shoulder. The rest popped up with it.
Alex opened the door. ‘Do you have any pain? Can you move your legs?’
The man didn’t answer. His face was angular, his eyes red from crying. He wore grey trousers and a blue business shirt, the sleeves roughly rolled up, the collar unbuttoned, no sign of a tie. His hands trembled on his knees, and he smelled of sweat and fear.