Page 5 of Trapped with the Undercover Prince

“A hydraulic jack,” Anna said with confidence.

“A what?” Zar asked.

“You put it under your car to lift it when you change the oil or tires,” she explained. “Firemen use it to pry open crushed cars in bad accidents to get at the victims inside. Do your firemen have them?”

Dupois pulled a radio out of his jacket pocket and barked the question in French. The response was positive. He ordered the tool, along with whatever else the firemen might need to get a person out of a crushed car. The train was just as crushed, if not more so.

The firemen arrived only a minute later and immediately began using the hydraulic device to open the doorway. Another couple of them brought long steel pry bars that they and Marc used to fish around inside the wall of the train.

Anna crouched in front of the pregnant woman, her husband next to her with his arm around her, while they waited for her to be freed.

A loud snap and crunch was the only warning they had before the door was suddenly shoved open all the way. There was a general cry of success, only to be cut off when the men at the door realized their job was only halfway done.

The victim they were trying to rescue was still pinned in place.

Anna directed the stretcher to be laid on the floor next to her patient while the firemen with the jack went to help Marc and his small team of rescuers.

“Anna, what will you need when we get her outside?” Zar asked.

“Immediate transport to the nearest hospital with advanced services. I won’t know what I’m dealing with until we get her out, but her contractions are only a couple of minutes apart.” Worry creased her brow and tightened the corners of her lips. “We’re going to need two teams. One to focus on the delivery and one to focus on her injuries.”

“I’ll see if I can get that organized.”

He asked the two paramedics which hospital they were going to take the injured woman to then called the hospital administrator of one of the most prestigious hospitals in the city. After giving a brief summary of the situation, the administrator put him in contact with the chief of staff. When Zar mentioned he had a doctor on scene, the chief of staff asked for her name.

“Dr. Anna, what’s your last name?”

“Brown.”

Zar repeated that for the chief and also mentioned she was a trauma surgeon from America.

“From Boston?” the chief asked.

“Yes,” Zar replied, surprised.

“My brother was injured in the Boston Marathon bombing,” the chief said, approval brightening his tone. “Dr. Anna Brown is the only reason he didn’t lose his leg.” He paused. “All will be in readiness for the patient’s arrival.”

His pretty doctor had an international reputation.

“Dr. Brown,” Zar said. “The hospital is preparing to receive her.”

“Excellent, but please, I prefer Dr. Anna.” She looked around. “Zar, can you get in behind her on the other side to support her?”

He didn’t answer aloud, just moved to squeeze into a spot next to the injured woman on the opposite side from her husband.

The paramedics, firemen, and Marc looked ready to attempt to move the metal bar holding the injured woman in place.

“Everyone ready?” Anna asked.

Zar asked the same question in French and got nods all around.

“Go!” Anna shouted.

No translation was needed.

Marc and the firemen used their tools to shift the restricting bar, which allowed the last two firemen to lift it several feet up.

The woman began screaming.

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