Page 24 of Prognosis So Done

without Henri’s health to worry about.

Fifteen minutes later — almost an hour after Gill had

received the news — Kelly walked into the room. She looked

haggard and her scrubs were dusty with a smear of blood down

the front. She pulled up a chair and raked her fingers through

her hair.

‘There were no survivors,’ she said blankly, staring at the chipped linoleum table. ‘It was Peter Hanley.’

‘Damn it,’ swore Gill, as an audible gasp echoed around the

table.

The team had worked with Peter a few years back. He was

a quiet, affable Englishman. A very experienced doctor who had

worked for the aid organisation for twenty-five years. He had

a wife and two children.

‘Bloody idiots,’ said Katya, scraping her chair back.

‘Bloody stupid wars.’ Her accent sounded thicker, more

guttural as her emotions spilled over. That was Katya. She got

mad and let it out. As she banged around the kitchen, everyone

stared at their hands and let her vent her anguish.

‘Let’s just give them all guns so they can kill each other

and get it over with.’ She plonked a cup of coffee in front of

Kelly. ‘The baddies can all kill each other then we’ll just be left with the rest of us. The sensible peace-loving people who just want to get on with their lives.’

At another time they all might have laughed at the

simplistic plan but right at this moment it seemed highly

sensible. One thing Harriet had learnt from years of living in

war zones was that it never made any sense. Whatever the

reasons or the motives, it all still boiled down to one thing —

too many senseless deaths.

The phone rang and everyone started. Their nerves had been

stretched tight and the harsh mechanical noise had been

unexpected.

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