the morning shopping period an enormous bomb was detonated in the Shamrock Shopping Precinct. Although it was nearly a mile away from the hospital Avedissian and the others felt the ground shake beneath their feet and a trickle of plaster fell from the ceiling of the treatment room. One of the nurses crossed herself. Harmon cursed loudly.
Avedissian, like many of the others, stood stock still in the unreal silence that ensued, mesmerised by the thought of the aftermath of the event before the wail of distant sirens broke the spell and sent them all into frenzied activity.
A radio call was broadcast to recall all staff from leave and a request made for blood donors to stand by. Nurses prepared trays of dressings and instruments and stacked them in neat piles round the room. From another part of the city the sound of gunfire reached them and everyone knew that the truce was over.
Avedissian had never seen such terrible injury to human beings before on such a scale. The nearest had been a train crash many years before but even that paled into insignificance beside the horror before his eyes. Dreadfully mutilated people bled to death in the ambulances before reaching hospital, while others, half stupefied by shock but still with the misfortune to be conscious, stared at their own insides through gaping blast wounds in their stomachs. A boy with no legs tried to get up and run from the stretcher that brought him through the doors. A woman with no face left screamed continually through a gaping, misshapen orifice that had once been her mouth. The sound was like nothing Avedissian had ever heard before.
Avedissian worked on as if caught up in a nightmare. He felt icy cold and, at times, almost on the verge of detachment from reality as his mind baulked at accepting what his eyes were seeing. The thing that kept him going more than any other was the sight of Harmon, very much in control, talking to the nurses, encouraging them, deciding priorities, keeping everything on a cool professional level.
Avedissian already knew that Harmon could be an emotional man for he had heard him speak of this very kind of situation with passion. But here, in the midst of the real thing, he was in complete control of things, an inspiration to all around him. At that moment Avedissian admired Harmon more than any other man he had ever known.
As the time passed some kind of order started to emerge from the carnage and chaos. The dead were removed by the porters to the hospital mortuary, those stabilised for surgery were taken out on trolleys to join the queues outside the theatres while the remainder were still held in A amp;E on life support pending removal to Intensive Care.
Avedissian had lost all track of time. He was still desperately trying to stop the bleeding on a young boy whose arm had been severed too near the shoulder for standard procedures when the radio announced that two gunshot victims were on their way.
The new patients arrived in a convoy of police and army vehicles and were afforded scant respect by their attendants. Several dead bodies were in the trucks. Harmon and Avedissian verified that they were dead before they were taken away. 'And now the other side,' said Harmon as they came back into the treatment room.
'What do you mean?' asked Avedissian.
'This lot are the IRA,' replied Harmon, indicating the men lying on the tables.
One of the soldiers who had heard what had happened at the shopping centre lost control and raised his weapon to fire at one of the wounded men. He was manhandled out of the unit by an NCO amidst shouting and chaos.
'What's been going on?' Harmon asked a police inspector.
'It looks like the IRA and the INLA tried to pull a joint operation. The IRA attacked the shopping centre while the INLA raided a number of banks in the city.'
'What happened?'
'Apparently it all went wrong. The diversion didn't work and the INLA were wiped out.'
Harmon looked around him at the pools of blood and pieces of human tissue that had still to be cleared up and whispered, 'A diversion.. this was a… diversion?'
'I think you had better come,' said one of the nurses who had been attending one of the men on the trolleys.
The duty sister had cut away the man's blood-soaked clothing to reveal the extent of the damage. He had been hit twice, once in the shoulder and once in the left thigh. In both cases the bullet had splintered the bone but had still managed to exit.
'Army weapon,' said Harmon. 'If you're hit you go down and you don't get up.'
Avedissian attended to the other gunshot victim who had been less seriously hurt in that the one bullet that had struck him had done so at an angle and gouged out a channel of flesh from his left calf. But the severe bruising about his face and body said that he had been subject to a 'difficult' arrest.
When the place had finally been cleared Harmon sat down slowly on one of the benches and lit a cigarette. He offered one to Avedissian who declined and they both sat in silence before the duty sister came over to them with cups of tea. 'Will you marry me, Sister?' said Harmon, accepting the cup as if it were the Holy Grail. 'Join the queue,' said Avedissian.
Next day the newspapers found it difficult to strike the right balance in their reporting of the news, for the triumph of-the security forces over the INLA had been so violently offset by the tragedy of the Shamrock Shopping Centre. Seventeen people had died, five were still on the critical list and forty-three had been injured, some destined to carry the scars and mutilations for the rest of their lives.
Church leaders made renewed pleas for an end to the violence but, as always, the men who would heed such pleas were not those who perpetrated it. Hardline Protestants threatened revenge for what they called the 'bloody outrage' and politicians said whatever suited them best politically. As usual the man in the street was confused and angry. Everything was back to normal in Northern Ireland after a lull in the proceedings.
Avedissian was off duty and alone in his room when there was a knock on the door. His invitation to whomever it was to come in met with no response so he got up and opened the door himself. Paul Jarvis was standing there.
'I don't believe it!' exclaimed Avedissian, both surprised and delighted.
'Life is full of surprises,' grinned Jarvis.
Avedissian invited him in and asked him to sit down on the one chair in the room while he himself sat on a corner of the bed. 'It's not much but it's home,' said Avedissian, looking around him.
'Not for much longer,' said Jarvis.
'Something is happening?' asked Avedissian.
'We are to meet with Bryant tomorrow. Your time here is over. That's what I came to tell you.'
Avedissian nodded and accepted the news with mixed feelings for, after his initial feelings of apprehension, he had come to enjoy working with Harmon. He had almost allowed himself to believe that he had returned to practising medicine again. 'I'd better tell Dr Harmon,' he said.
'I think you'll find that he has been informed,' said Jarvis. 'He had to be warned so that a replacement for you could be found.'
'Of course,' said Avedissian quietly. 'Have you come from Wales or your base?' he asked Jarvis.
'Neither, I was given three days' leave. I spent it in Edinburgh with my girlfriend.'
'Annie,' said Avedissian.
'You have an excellent memory,' said Jarvis.
'It improved when I gave up the gin,' said Avedissian.
'Oh yes, I'm sorry about that.'
'Why sorry?' asked Avedissian.
'I'm afraid it was me who took your bottle at Llangern.'
'I see… I suppose I should thank you really.'
'You were in a bit of a mess,' agreed Jarvis.
'So what are we going to learn tomorrow?' asked Avedissian.
'I know as much as you. I was just asked to inform you tonight and pick you up tomorrow.'
Avedissian invited Jarvis to stay and eat dinner with him but Jarvis declined, saying that he had to report back. He would see him in the morning at ten o'clock.
Avedissian returned to the A amp;E department and sought out Harmon. He found him in his office working through a pile of paperwork with an air of frustration. 'Bloody nonsense!' he snorted, putting down his pen as
