practical, pixie haircut did nothing to disguise her femininity and if the big, blue eyes that went with those blonde spikes could look like they did with no make-up, it was obvious that Jules could be a knock-out if she chose to be.
Nobody had expected to find that she considered herself ‘one of the boys’ and was possibly more passionate about this job than they were. She had earned respect remarkably quickly, thanks to an early job that had involved a large portion of the squad when the remains of an old building had collapsed on a demolition crew. Julia had been the only one small enough to squeeze through a gap and she’d hung, upside down, like a determined little bat, for long enough to establish an airway and gain IV access on a man who would certainly have died otherwise.
Respect had become admiration from more than one of the guys but the polite rebuff of any personal overtures had added another dimension to a personality that was intriguing. Any commiseration Mac had received on being partnered with ‘the chick’ had long since morphed into envy.
Yeah…he was lucky.
But here he was, letting this amazing woman step backwards off a broken bridge, his fingers on the controls that were now lowering her close to the dangling train carriage. If it fell, it would most likely take her with it and there would be nothing he could do but watch. The tension was growing by the second as the small figure in the orange overalls slipped lower.
‘Keep going.’ Julia’s voice sounded clear and calm inside his helmet. ‘Seats are clear at the top. I can’t see the bottom yet.’
He fed out the steel cable, inch by inch. He felt the jerk as Julia’s steel-capped boots touched the side of the carriage and then her gloved hands reached to steady herself and cut the light reflecting on one of the large glass panels.
‘Stop!’ The command was sharp. ‘I can see something.’
Chapter Two
FACES.
Terrified faces. A huddle of humanity in what had been one end of the carriage and was now a narrow base. It was too dark to see clearly. Now mid-afternoon on a typical, drizzly autumn day, natural light was fading fast but the light on Julia’s helmet could only go so far through the barrier of glass and deep shadow within. The first two rows of the seats now facing upwards had people on them and were much easier to see. The closest figure was lying slumped.
More people were huddled on the seats on the other side of the aisle.
How many were there?
How badly injured were they?
Julia could see them watching her. A woman on the far side, with a child clutched in her arms, was sobbing but the sound wasn’t reaching through the window that was still intact on this side. Or not through the padding inside her helmet and the background noise that included a helicopter hovering directly overhead.
Television crews, probably, capturing the unfolding drama of this rescue. The footage would make international news, that was for sure. Julia spared a fleeting thought for the relatives of everyone involved. Including hers. Thank goodness her sister Anne would be unable to recognise that it was her doing such a dangerous job.
‘Can you hear me?’ Julia shouted.
‘Ouch!’ came Mac’s voice.
‘Sorry.’ Julie lifted her microphone, tucking it under the rim of her helmet. She called again and a boy inside, who looked about fourteen, nodded warily.
‘How many of you are there?’ Julia called.
The boy’s eyes slid sideways but he didn’t move his head. He looked hunched. Terrified of moving, probably, in case it was enough to send the carriage plummeting to the bottom of the gully. He shrugged helplessly and then winced and Julia could see the way he was cradling one arm with the other. A fracture? Dislocated shoulder?
The woman who had been sobbing in the seat across the aisle tried to get closer, the child still in her arms. She was blocked by the still shape of the slumped man.
‘Help!’ she screamed. ‘Please…help us!’
Her words were clearly audible. So was the panicked response from others still in there, telling her to stay still, prompted by the sway of the carriage her movement had caused. Julia’s hands were still against the window and she simply moved with it, gently swinging out and then back. Not far at all but more than enough for her heart to skip a beat and for a soft curse from Mac to echo in her earphones.
Julia flipped down the small arm of her microphone. ‘Pull me up to the door, Mac. I need to get inside.’
‘No way!’
‘Can’t triage from here. I can see at least six people and some look OK to evacuate fast.’
‘Get them to climb up and we’ll winch from the door.’
Julia frowned. The woman was close to hysterical and wasn’t about to let go of the child. The teenage boy had an injured arm or shoulder.
‘Not practical,’ she informed Mac. ‘They need assistance. Anyone else qualified to operate the winch up there?’
‘Yes.’ The word was reluctant. ‘Red Watch is here now as well.’
Another SERT partnership of Angus and Dale. This was good.
‘I’ll get inside,’ Julia suggested. ‘You winch down with a nappy harness and I’ll bring out as many as I can. Then we’ll be able to assess what we’ve got left.’
Mac must have shifted his microphone but Julia could hear faint voices in animated conversation and knew that her idea was being discussed with others up there on the bridge. A long minute later and Mac was ready to talk to her again.
‘On one condition,’ he said briskly. ‘We’re monitoring the cables. We might not get much warning if things aren’t going to hold but if I give the word you have to get yourself out of there. Stat. No argument. Got it?’
‘Got it.’
Julia did get it and her promise of co-operation was sincere. She heard the faint wail of distress as she was hoisted away from the faces at the bottom of the carriage despite her hand signals to indicate that things were in hand and rescue was close.
And then there she was. Beside the door. She had to climb inside and unclip the winch line that suddenly felt like an umbilical cord in its ability to sustain life.
Fear kicked in as she did precisely that. Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded so hard it was almost painful. For a horribly long moment, Julia thought she’d gone too far this time. She couldn’t do this after all.
‘Jules? Talk to me.’
The voice was soft but she could hear a faint reflection of her own fear. Mac was afraid for her and it was more than concern for the wellbeing of his colleague. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?
Stupidly—and so inappropriately it was easy to contain—Julia felt an odd tightness in her throat. A prickle behind her eyes that advertised embryonic tears. She dismissed them with a simple swallow. She didn’t need to go there. All she’d needed had been to hear
