"Save your strength," he said. "You'll need it. Now, let Susie look after you."
"No! She can't let her die! You can't let her die!"
"We'll do everything possible," he whispered. "You need to look after yourself now."
No," I said. "No, I need to see Clarissa."
But someone put a hand against my chest, and I lay back. I heard a tearing sound and felt something burning along my leg. My clothes were being cut. Lifted and twisted. I was being peeled and left pink, naked. Pain flowed. Deep as a fast river.
The ambulance's motion ceased.
"What's happening? Are we there?"
"There's been an accident up ahead. We're checking to see if we can get to the hospital.
"Can I talk to him?" said Smee.
"He needs rest," said Susie. "And we need to do these checks, as he may be in shock."
"It's important."
Susie turned to me.
"Can you manage a few questions?"
"No! I want to see Clarissa! What's happening to her? Why won't anyone tell me?"
Susie moved across to the huddle around Clarissa. She was crouching by my side as she murmured. "They're monitoring her temperature. They're warming her. We just have to wait."
"How serious is it?"
She looked uncertain. Her eyes flickered, as if she wanted to avoid my gaze. "They're doing their best."
"Is she going to die?"
But she didn't answer.
The ambulance started up again.
I thought of going through so much.
Pulling Clarissa from the icy water.
Why were the Russians trying to kill her?
What did she know? What had she seen?
Constable Smee's face came nearer. A figure from long ago. Unrecognisable.
"Call Sergeant Fitzgerald," I said again.
"He's meeting us at the hospital."
"Can you talk?"
Her face was moving out of focus.
"About what?"
"You killed two unarmed Russian sailors on our beach and allowed another to drown. I think that warrants answers."
"They had guns!"
"We found no evidence of the men carrying weapons."
I pointed to my leg.
"This injury is from a rifle butt when the third Russian attacked. The other two took Miss Briggs. Tied her to a concrete block and left her to drown in the pillbox."
"So, you shot them?"
I looked at her, heard the words she was saying, but ignored them. Distracted by movement in my peripheral vision. One figure stood back from Clarissa and said something to his colleague. What was he saying? What was happening?
I heard my name being called.
"What are they doing to her?" My voice sounded horrible.
Susie pushed her way past Smee, sat next to me, and took my hand. She said my name and looked into my eyes.
The world tipped and roared. My blood cascaded through my veins. My heart pounded in my chest. Then, everything became quiet.
"Yes?"
"We're there. Try to stay calm."
"Is she going to be alright?"
"We're doing what we can. She's a resilient woman."
"I should have realised she was in danger. She saw something. Heard something. I've been so stupid and thick."
I put my hands over my face. Remained in my private darkness. Let me think of Clarissa's face tipped up in the churning black waters. Of the way her body felt when I'd tugged it up the beach. Slack, and dead.
I could bear to think of the terror through which she passed today. Experienced at the hands of those bastards. Watching the light fail and the water rise.
I wanted her to survive. Not because she could answer questions. Caught up in something that shouldn't happen to someone like Clarissa Briggs.
The bumping and creaking of the ambulance as it swung through the curves. There was a hand on my forehead. I heard voices. Impossible to make out the words' meaning. Everything jumbles. I sank into darkness behind my eyes.
The voices got shriller. My body manipulated. Someone else's body and I was its temporary tenant. The ambulance slowed and made a turn. The surface of the road is rough. Then smooth. Lights outside and sounds. Doors pushed opened, followed by a rush of chilly air.
People outside waited with trolleys. Life slowed in the ambulance. Maintenance and waiting. Now things happened quicker. Noise, bustle, and surprising roughness.
They bundled Clarissa out on her stretcher. I wanted to shout. Tell the hospital staff to be careful. Not to drop her. She was fragile.
Susie covered me with several blankets.
"She needs attention, and so do you."
Lifted out of the ambulance. I looked for Clarissa. Gone. Wheeled past several police officers. Through flapping doors. Into a curtained-off cubicle. A nurse followed me with a clipboard. Asked questions.
Bureaucratic and pedantic. I wanted to scream. Wanted my name, address and date of birth.
"I'm not ill."
The words came out in a slur. Not sure she understood them.
"Tired. Is Sergeant Fitzgerald here?"
She asked if I was allergic.
On any medication.
Had I ate in the last four hours?
"I don't want to be operated on," I said. "I withhold my permission."
"Sir," she said, with withering patience. "Your friend is being under observation. You must let me look after you. I need to take your temperature and check…"
"I need the toilet," I said. "Now."
"Someone can bring you a bedpan."
"No, thank you. I can manage well on my own."
"I don't think that's a splendid idea," she said with forbidding grimness.
On any other day, I'd have obeyed her. But I needed to find Clarissa. They said she stayed resilient. I'd seen her face. She closed eyes. Remembered her body, lying heavy and slack in my arms.
How could I rest?
I needed to know.
Why would the Russians want to kill her?