Chapter 6
Stephanie, Morrison and the rest of the security team stared from a distance. The shock had stunned them into brief paralysis. It wasn't obvious how the scene before them had happened; all they knew for certain was that two bodies lay on the pavement outside Broadcasting House. The building had been gutted by the rioters, with most of the furniture scattered in the street, covered in broken glass.
"Is this the first time you have seen possible attacks on people?" Stephanie asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Yes," replied Morrison. "I - we have not been informed of anything like this anywhere."
"What do we do?" she asked.
"We are not supposed to put you at risk, so I think we return empty-handed."
"Shouldn't we see if there are any other people injured? They might not be dead."
"Even if they are alive, there are no emergency services available, they've all been sent as part of the evacuation with only intensive care patients left under military protection. Besides, we don't have room in the vehicle for anyone else."
"We have to look, or at the very least we can phone for someone to come and help," pleaded Stephanie.
"I suppose we might not have jobs to be fired from soon anyway. Okay, here is what we’re going to do: we leave the car here with the engine running and approach carefully on foot. There are CCTV cameras on the outside of the building, if we can get to the room where they are controlled we should be able to view the events leading up to the two victims’ current position. We then move on to find what you need. We will move as a group, two in front, two at the back with Stephanie in the middle so I can see her at all times. All agreed. Good. Let's go."
The four security men and Stephanie jumped out of the vehicle leaving the driver alone.
The short distance to the front of the building took twice as long as it should have done as they twisted around the debris and glass. As they reached the two bodies it was obvious from their colour and smell that they were both dead. Dry blood, which had run down the cracks to the roadside, covered the surrounding pavement.
Morrison looked up and saw an open, intact window on the third floor. He then bent down to inspect the bodies.
"They work here, they have ID cards,” he said. “Judging by their injuries I would say they were pushed or fell from a height. Their heads all have signs of heavy impact and the bodies are disjointed, which is inconsistent with a close attack. They’ve been here a while as well.”
"That's a good thing, right?" said Stephanie.
"It means they weren’t attacked down here, but it doesn't rule out them being pushed."
"Why is it so quiet? Where have they all gone?" asked Stephanie.
"I don't know,” answered Morrison. “Maybe they have achieved what they were doing here and moved on. I don't like it, though.”
"It’s all clear to move in, should we keep moving?" asked an agent.
"Yes, keep low and keep your eyes open," said Morrison.
In a building consisting of mostly concrete, glass and metal, the fires had been limited, leaving random patches of ash where furniture fires had died out naturally. The security office was behind the front kiosk. The door was locked shut.
Morrison attempted to kick the door open to no avail.
“Stand back and cover your ears,” he ordered.
A loud bang made Stephanie jump, as he fired his gun to release the steel dead-bolt.
She turned back and looked at the smoking gun in Morrison’s hand.
"I can’t get used to those things," she said.
"Unfortunately they are required, when you protect the PM," replied Morrison bluntly.
"And people on dangerous missions," Stephanie added.
“That too,” he agreed.
They walked over to a series of screens, each showing different camera shots. Beneath was a console where they were controlled.
"Here, get the camera footage back far enough until there are no bodies outside,” said Morrison. “I want to be absolutely certain that they fell before we move on."
The pictures moved back through time in blocks of one hour until they saw a bodiless pavement, nineteen days and fifteen hours previously. Rioters were present outside, occupying themselves by throwing stones and bricks at the windows.
"That’s soon after the riots began. Forward it slowly," said Morrison.
All of a sudden the bodies hit the ground. Everyone was silent. The pictures were horrifying. Despite the aggressive nature of the riots, death was no more common than before they started. There was no way to prepare for a brutal and disturbing sight such as this.
Stephanie turned away unable to watch.
"Shall we take this with us to show the PM?" asked an agent.
"Yes, we need all available evidence. But wait one minute," said Morrison. "Look at that guy."
They all stared at the screen.
"He's going over to the bodies," said Stephanie. "Is he crying?"
"He is; look, more are coming," said Morrison. “These people aren’t killers. They’ve just realised something bad has happened.”
“They don’t know what to do. They’ve all stopped,” said Stephanie
"Forward it again and see how long they stayed for," ordered Morrison.
"Twenty minutes," came the reply.
"They’re wondering what to do with the bodies. These people aren’t monsters. We have to find the room they fell out of, we have to be sure it wasn't murder, then we’ll get what you need, Miss Jones."
"Stephanie is fine," she replied.
Morrison turned to Stephanie.
“I suppose under these circumstances it doesn’t matter too much. Stephanie it is,” he said. "Okay let's go, Stephanie."
Morrison nodded to Stephanie, before signalling to the other agents to move on. And with a quick glance into the foyer, they were gone.