Israel momentarily united and completed the demolition of Gay Liberation before joining battle again. By that time Sonia had dragged Piper into the elevator. MacMordie joined them and pressed the button. For the next twenty minutes they went up and down while the struggle for Piparfat, O'Piper and Peipmann raged on outside.
'You've really screwed things up now,' Sonia told MacMordie. 'It takes me all my time to get the poor guy over here and you have to arrange Custer's Last Stand for a welcome.'
In the corner the poor guy was sitting on the floor. MacMordie ignored him. 'The product needed exposure and it's sure getting it. This will hit prime time TV. I wouldn't wonder there aren't news flashes going out now.'
'Great,' said Sonia, 'and what have you got laid on for us next? The Hindenburg disaster?'
'So this is going to hit the headlines...' MacMordie began but there was a low moan from the corner. Something had already hit Piper. His hand was bleeding. Sonia knelt beside him.
'What happened, honey?' she asked. Piper pointed wanly at a frisbee on which were painted the words Gulag Go. The frisbee was edged with razor blades. Sonia turned on MacMordie.
'I suppose that was your idea too,' she yelled. 'Frisbees with razor blades. You could guillotine someone with a thing like that.'
'Me? I didn't have a thing ' MacMordie began but Sonia had stopped the elevator.
'Ambulance! Ambulance,' she shouted, but it was an hour before the police managed to get Piper out of the building. By that time Hutchmeyer's instructions had been carried out. So had a large number of protesters who had been rushed to hospital. The streets were littered with broken glass, smashed banners and tear-gas canisters. As Piper was helped into the ambulance his eyes were streaming tears. He sat nursing his injured hand and the conviction that he had come to a madhouse.
'What did I do wrong?' he asked Sonia pathetically.
'Nothing. Nothing at all.'
'You were great, just great,' said MacMordie appreciatively and studied Piper's wound. 'Pity there's not more blood.'
'What more do you want?' snarled Sonia. 'Two pounds of flesh? Haven't you got enough already?'
'Blood,' said MacMordie. 'Colour TV you can tell the difference from ketchup. This has got to be authentic' He turned to the nurse. 'You got any whole blood?'
'Whole blood? For a scratch like that you want whole blood?' she said.
'Listen,' said MacMordie, 'this guy's a haemophiliac. You going to let him bleed to death?'
'I am not a haemophiliac,' protested Piper but the siren drowned his voice.
'He needs a transfusion,' shouted MacMordie. 'Give me that blood.'
'Are you out of your fucking mind?' screamed Sonia as MacMordie grappled with the nurse. 'Hasn't he been through enough without you wanting to give him a blood transfusion?'
'I don't want a transfusion,' squeaked Piper frantically. 'I don't need one.'
'Yea but the TV cameras do,' said MacMordie. 'In Technicolor.'
'I will not give the patient...' said the nurse but MacMordie had grabbed the bottle and was wrestling with the cap.
'You don't even know his blood group,' the nurse yelled as the cap came off.
'No need to,' said MacMordie and emptied most of the bottle over Piper's head.
'Now look what you've done,' bawled Sonia. Piper had passed out.
'Okay so we resuscitate him,' said MacMordie. 'This is going to make Kildare look like nothing,' and he clamped the oxygen mask over Piper's face. By the time Piper was lifted out of the ambulance on a stretcher he looked like death itself. Under the mask and the blood his face had turned purple. In the excitement nobody had thought to turn the oxygen on.
