Consultant In Crisis. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘RESCUE team above. Can you hear me?’

      The silence was broken by only the sound of a small piece of rubble, dislodged by a steel-capped boot, that bounced off a broken length of timber before hitting a half-buried sheet of corrugated iron. The next ten seconds were eerily quiet.

      ‘Nothing heard.’ Urban Search and Rescue team member Neil Fletcher looked to his right along the chain of people.

      Kelly Drummond was finding a more secure foothold amidst the precarious surface of building debris. Her heavily gloved hand grasped a shaft of timber between the exposed nails as she leaned closer to the steep mountain of rubbish. Rubbish that had once been houses. Houses that had held, and might still contain, people. Using a rock held in her other hand Kelly tapped loudly on a protruding water pipe before using her voice.

      ‘Rescue team above. Can you hear me?’

      Kelly tilted her head until her safety helmet actually touched the rubble. She listened carefully. The sound created by tapping on a pipe would have carried much further than a human voice. Maybe someone trapped in the collapsed building and still alive could have heard the sound. Maybe she would hear them call out in return or hear tapping that might indicate their use of a similar means of communication. The seconds stretched out. Ten…eleven….twelve….thirteen…

      ‘Nothing heard.’

      Joe Barrington was next in line. Solid, easy-going Joe was a paramedic, like Kelly. She had thought he would be the only person on this team she would know. After an involuntary glance to her left Kelly’s wish that that had indeed been the case was beginning to feel familiar.

      ‘Rescue team above.’ The deep rumble of Joe’s voice carried right along the ten people making up the human chain. ‘Can you hear me?’

      Kelly needed to push her safety goggles back into place but didn’t want to move during the listening phase. Even a tiny movement could send debris tumbling and the sound might mask the whereabouts of a potential victim. A chill puff of wind sneaked inside the collar of the protective overalls and brought with it a mist of drizzle. Kelly closed her eyes for a few seconds. A month ago she had been sitting in the sun at a street-side café in Melbourne. Even three weeks ago she could never have envisioned herself in this situation. Part of an Urban Search and Rescue squad.

      Working alongside Neil Fletcher.

      She had recognised the possibility of seeing Fletch again. After all, she had chosen to come back to Christchurch and their careers weren’t a million miles apart. But it had been nearly two years now. It was more than likely that an emergency department registrar would have headed overseas for post-graduate experience and then chosen a bigger centre to come back to if he had returned to New Zealand at all. Besides, it had been Kelly who had chosen to end the relationship and the decision had been the right one. The only one. She had come to terms with that a very long time ago and she had moved on. Sorted out what she wanted from life and made damned sure that she was going to achieve it. Even if she did cross paths with Fletch it would make no difference. No difference whatsoever.

      ‘Nothing heard.’ Joe sounded disappointed. He was probably as weary as everyone else on the team now. The search was physically demanding and, so far, unrewarding. They had located one victim, whose position had been marked with fluorescent orange paint on a small slab of concrete further down the hill. A large ‘V’ for ‘victim’