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Doctor at Risk. Alison Roberts
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isbn
Автор произведения Alison Roberts
Жанр Современные любовные романы
Издательство HarperCollins
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about you since last night, Ross,’ she said a little hesitantly. ‘About us.’
‘There can’t be any “us” any more. I told you that,’ Ross said wearily. Ending their relationship had been even harder than he’d thought it would be last night. He didn’t have the strength to do it again. He closed his eyes. ‘It’s over.’
‘Not as far as I’m concerned,’ Wendy said quietly. She blinked hard, determined not to cry, as her fingers moved gently over his. ‘I love you, Ross. Nothing can change that.’
CITY SEARCH AND RESCUE
Life and love are on the line…
The Team
Dedicated professionals—
doctors, nurses, paramedics, police and firefighters— trained to save lives in urban disasters.
The Dangers
A crowded building collapses, and in the aftermath of
the disaster the team must save innocent lives— at the risk of their own…
The Romance
Passions run high as the dramas unfold—
and life and love are on the line!
DOCTOR AT RISK
is the heart-pounding conclusion to Alison Roberts’s CITY SEARCH AND RESCUE trilogy.
Recent titles by the same author:
THE NURSE’S RESCUE
(City Search and Rescue Book 2—
Joe and Jessica’s story)
CONSULTANT IN CRISIS
(City Search and Rescue Book 1—
Kelly and Fletch’s story)
THE SURGEON’S CHILD
SURGEON ON CALL
Doctor at Risk
Alison Roberts
www.millsandboon.co.uk
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
HE COULD smell the danger.
Mountain rescues could be dangerous enough but they never smelt like this. Of thick dust and heat. Of unwashed and exhausted people. He could smell the sudden fear that kicked in when their hazardous environment reminded them of precisely where they were. Sometimes he could smell the incongruous aroma of foodstuffs or perfume. And sometimes he could smell blood and the dreadful stench of death.
Dr Ross Turnball would have picked a mountain rescue in preference any time. Clean, cold air or the relatively safe smell of wood smoke. The scent of the carpet of decomposing vegetation that might be released by the tread of heavy boots or the far less pleasant aroma of a long-dead possum. He would be hearing the moan of a southerly storm brewing or the rattle of scree dislodged by a careless step to go cascading down a barren slope. Or perhaps he would be listening to the welcome chop of helicopter rotors as back-up arrived.
He wouldn’t be listening to the alien sound of people trying to communicate through dust masks against an almost constant background of crackling radio transmissions, the staccato intrusion of pneumatic tools or the dull roar of heavy machinery shifting rubble. He wouldn’t see the kind of bewildered fear and pain on the faces of the victims they found either. These people hadn’t chosen to enter an environment with inherent risks. They had had no protective clothing and absolutely no warning of imminent disaster.
Yes, he would have picked a mountain rescue in preference but there was no way he would choose to be anywhere else at this point in time. These people needed him and Ross knew he was precisely where he was supposed to be.
Not that any of them had anticipated being in a situation like this so soon. Or of ever being in a situation of this magnitude. At 15.38 hours yesterday, on a sunny Friday afternoon, a massive explosion had occurred in Westgate, a popular suburban shopping mall in Christchurch. Its unprecedented level of destruction made it the largest multi-casualty incident ever seen in the small country of New Zealand, and had resulted in the first full-scale deployment of personnel trained in urban search and rescue.
Including the most recent graduates of the USAR training course held in Christchurch, Dr Turnball among them. Given his medical qualifications, his presence on the course had been welcomed. His years of experience as part of a mountain search and rescue team had put him right at the top of the class but Ross had been eager to add to his knowledge base. He’d wanted to add skills that would enable him to respond to any kind of emergency situation. To reinforce the quiet confidence he already possessed that he could assist or, if need be, lead the kind of people who were willing to risk their own safety to save the lives of others.
That risk was starting to feel familiar enough to make the fear of personal danger seem almost irrelevant. Ross turned to speak to a man standing to one side and well below his own position.
‘If you hold a rope I can tie it round my waist and lean over far enough to reach her.’
‘I could climb down there.’
‘No way.’ Ross swung his gaze back to the small figure in blue overalls perched close to him on the mound of debris. It might be easy to dismiss the fear for his own safety, but Wendy Watson’s was a completely different matter. ‘We have no idea how stable this side of the void really is. You could end up being buried as well.’
‘I’m smaller,’ Wendy protested. Her bright orange safety helmet tilted as she lifted her face to look directly at her senior colleague. ‘And lighter. I’d be less likely to make anything collapse.’
‘We don’t even know if she’s alive yet.’ Ross peered over the concrete slab obscuring the lower half of the woman lying just out of reach below them. The discovery of the woman had been made in Sector 3, when the pile of debris had shifted following the removal of a large beam obstructing the path of rescue workers nearby in Sector 2. USAR Squad 4 had been on their way to a new deployment on the second level of the shopping centre but they had been quickly diverted by news of the discovery. A rapid survey by members of a civil defence team, in consultation with an engineer, had allowed