Decider - By Dick Francis Page 0,46

how it had looked.

‘You and your young son both knew at once what it was?’

‘We’d both seen it before.’

‘And how close to each other were the charges in the walls?’

‘About three feet apart. In some places, less.’

‘And how extensive or widespread?’

‘All round the stairwell and the landing walls on at least two floors. Perhaps more.’

‘We understand you’re a builder. How long, do you think, it would have taken you personally to drill the holes for the charges?’

‘Each hole? Some of the walls were brick, some were composition, like breeze-block, all of them plastered and painted. Thick and load bearing, but soft, really. You’d hardly need a hammer-drill, even. The holes would probably have to be five inches deep, about an inch in diameter – given a wide drill bit and electricity, I could do perhaps two a minute if I was in a hurry.’ I paused. ‘Threading the holes with det cord and packing them with explosives obviously takes longer. I’ve been told you need to compress and tamp it all in very carefully with something wooden, no sparks, like a broom handle.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Demolitions people.’

The chief inspector asked, ‘How are you so sure the walls were made of brick and breeze-block? How could you possibly tell, if they were plastered and painted?’

I thought back. ‘On the floor beneath each charge there was a small pile of dust caused by drilling the hole. Some piles were pink brick dust, others were grey.’

‘You had time to see that?’

‘I remember it. At the time, it just made it certain that there was a good deal of explosive rammed into those walls.’

The expert said, ‘Did you look to see where the circuit began or ended?’

I shook my head. ‘I was trying to find my son.’

‘And did you see anyone else at all in the vicinity of the stands near that time?’

‘No. No one.’

They asked me and Roger to walk with them as far as the safety cordon, so that we could explain to the expert where the staircase and walls had been before the explosion. The expert, it seemed, would then put on a protective suit and a hard hat and go in wherever he could to take a look from the inside.

‘Rather you than me,’ I commented.

They watched the best I could do at walking with them. When we reached the point of maximum visual bad news, the bomb-defusing expert looked upwards to the fingers of the Stewards’ box and down to my walking frame. He put on his large head-sheltering hat and gave me a twisting self-mocking smile.

‘I’m old in my profession,’ he said.

‘How old?’

‘Twenty-eight.’

I said, ‘All of a sudden, I can’t feel a thing.’

His smile broadened. ‘People sometimes get lucky.’

‘Good luck, then,’ I said.

CHAPTER 8

‘You know what?’ Roger said to me.

‘What?’

We were standing on the tarmac a little apart from the policemen but still looking at the rubble.

‘I’d think our demolitionist got more bang for his bucks than he intended.’

‘How do you mean?’

He said, ‘High explosives are funny things. Unpredictable, often. They weren’t my speciality in the army, but of course most soldiers learn about them. There’s always a tendency to use too much explosive for the job in hand, just to make sure of effective results.’ He smiled briefly. ‘A colleague of mine had to blow up a bridge, once. Just to blow a hole in it, to put it out of action. He over-estimated how much explosive it would take, and the whole thing totally disintegrated into invisible dust which was carried away in the river below. Not a thing left. Everyone thought he’d done a brilliant job, but he was laughing about it in private. I wouldn’t have known how much to use to cause this much damage here in the grandstands. And I’ve been thinking that whoever did it probably meant only to put the stairway out of action. I mean… setting all those careful charges rounds its walls… if he’d meant to destroy the whole stand, why not use one single large bomb? Much easier. Less chance of being spotted setting it up. See what I mean?’

‘Yes, I do.’

He glanced directly at my face. ‘Look,’ he said awkwardly, ‘I know it’s not my business, but wouldn’t you be better lying down in your bus?’

‘I’ll go if I have to.’

He nodded.

‘Otherwise,’ I said, ‘it’s better to have other things to think about.’

He was happy with that. ‘Just say, then.’

‘Yes. Thanks.’

The Strattons were suddenly all round us. Dart said in my car, ‘Conrad’s architect has come. Now