Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,13

at the television set on the wall. The horses were running down into the dip and the jockeys were jostling for position, ready for their final effort up the rise to the finish. So tired was I that I decided not to stay and watch. I could always see it later on the replay. I turned to take the cups out to the kitchen.

That decision unquestionably saved my life.

CHAPTER 3

The bomb went off while I was crossing the corridor.

I didn’t understand immediately what had happened. There was a great blast of heat on my neck and it felt like someone had hit me in the back with a sledgehammer.

I crashed into the kitchen door upright and fell, half in and half out of the room.

I still couldn’t understand what was going on. Everything seemed to be in silence. I couldn’t hear. I tried to speak but I couldn’t hear myself either. I shouted. Nothing. All I could hear was a high-pitched hissing; it had no direction, and was unchanged when I turned my head from side to side.

I looked down at my hands and they seemed to be all right. I moved them. No problem. I clapped. I could feel my hands coming together but I couldn’t hear the sound. It was very frightening.

My left knee hurt. I looked down and noticed that my trousers had been torn where they had hit the doorframe. The white checks were turning red with my blood. What’s black and white and red all over…? My brain was drifting.

I felt with my hands but my knee appeared to be in the right place and I could move my foot without any increase in pain. It seemed that the blood was from superficial damage only.

My hearing came back with a rush and suddenly there was a mass of sound. Someone close by was screaming. A female, high-pitched scream that went on and on, breaking only occasionally for a moment as the screamer drew breath. An alarm bell was ringing incessantly somewhere down the corridor and there were shouts from some male voices, mostly pleading for help.

I lay back and rested my head on the floor. It felt as if I was like that for ages but, I suppose, it was only for a minute or two at most. The screaming went on, otherwise I might have gone to sleep.

I became aware that I wasn’t very comfortable. As well as the pain in my left knee, my right leg was aching. I was lying on my foot, which was tangled up underneath my bottom. I straightened the leg and was rewarded with pins and needles. That’s a good sign, I thought.

I looked up and could see daylight between the walls and the ceiling where a large crack had opened up. That was not such a good sign. Water was pouring through the crack, probably, I thought lazily, from some burst pipe above. It was running down the wall and spreading across the concrete floor towards me. I turned my head and watched it approach.

I decided that, lovely as it was to lie there and let the world get on without me, I didn’t fancy lying in a puddle. The floor was cold enough without being wet as well. Reluctantly, I rolled over and drew my knees up under me so that I was kneeling. Not a good idea, I thought. My left knee complained bitterly and the calf muscle below it began to cramp. I pulled myself up to a standing position using the doorframe, and surveyed the kitchen.

Not much seemed to have changed except that everything was covered in a fine white dust which still hung in the air. I was wondering what had happened to Carl when he appeared next to me.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said, ‘what happened?’

‘Don’t know,’ I replied. ‘Where were you?’

‘Having a pee in the gents.’ He pointed down the corridor. ‘Nearly shit myself when that bang went off.’

I clung on to the kitchen door and felt unwell. I didn’t particularly relish going to see what had become of my other two staff and the guests in the boxes but I knew I must. I couldn’t just stand here all day while others might need help. The screaming had lessened to a whimper as I gingerly made my way across the corridor and looked in.

I hadn’t expected there to be so much blood.

Bright, fresh, scarlet-red blood. Masses of the stuff. It was not only on the floor but on the walls, and