Domain

bouncing quickly from left to right like blue pinballs.

'A few words, first, about what's likely to have occurred above us. What I'm going to say will frighten you, will distress you, but the time for lies is long-gone. If we are to survive, we have to work together as a unit, and we've got to trust each other.' His eyes took a more leisurely sweep around the room. 'I promise you this: our chances for survival are good; only our own fear can defeat us.'

He drew in a long breath as though about to plunge into deep water, feeling, in a metaphorical sense, this was the case.

'Anywhere between sixteen and thirty per cent of people in the Greater London area will have been killed outright. I know official figures lean towards the lower estimate, but as I said it's time for honesty.

My opinion is that the number of dead will be at least twenty-eight per cent, and that's on the conservative side.'

He allowed a little time for the unsettling information to sink in. 'Another thirty to thirty-six per cent will have been injured by the blast alone. Many will have been crushed or trapped in buildings, or cut by flying glass. The list of various types of injury would be endless, so it's pointless to itemize. It's enough to say that burns, shock and mutilation will be

widespread, and many will have received permanent or temporary eye damage caused by retinal burns from the initial flash.

'Blast pressure from each of the bombs will have damaged approximately seventy-five per cent of the Greater London area: most tall buildings and many bridges will have collapsed, and the majority of roads will have been blocked by rubble, fallen telegraph poles and lamp posts, and overturned vehicles. About thirty per cent of the houses in the city and suburbs will have been reduced to rubble, and over forty per cent too badly damaged to be repaired in the immediate future. I hardly need to say there probably won't be an unbroken window left in the capital.'

Bryce's face looked drained of blood, his overhanging jowls resembling empty money pouches.

Perversely, he seemed to be taking refuge behind his own cold facts, as though the words had no real meaning, but were the considered statistics of an imagined war. It was a stance that enabled him to cope with his own emotion. 'Fire damage will be extensive and I'm afraid our fire services will be little more than useless. It may be that most of London above us is in flames.'

The cries, the sighing moans of despair, could no longer be contained. Several men and women were weeping openly, while others merely sat grim-faced, staring straight ahead as if seeing something beyond the room, beyond the shelter. Perhaps the suffering that was out there.

Kate had slumped forward on the table and he drew her close, using soft pressure against her initial resistance. She, along with Dealey and himself, had probably gone through more horrors that day than anyone else in the room, for they had been out there in the destruction, running for safety with the crowds, taking refuge in the tunnels. Almost eaten alive by rats. He wondered how much more her mind could take without losing grip totally.

Bryce raised both hands to quieten them and said reluctantly, There is still a consequence of the attack that must be dealt with. I know it's difficult for every man and woman in this room, but the reality of what has happened and what is going to happen must be faced now. If we are all aware of the worst effects of nuclear war, then nothing will be unexpected, nothing more will further demoralize us. Hopefully,' he added ominously.

The next problem for every survivor of the blast is fallout. Most of the city's population would have had less than half an hour to get under cover before radioactive dust fell. Those still unprotected within six hours of the attack will have received a lethal dose of radiation and will die within a matter of days or weeks, depending on the individual dosage. And of course, anyone injured by the blast or its effects will be even more susceptible to radiation. Unofficial figures indicate that around four million people within the Greater London boundaries will be dead or dying within two weeks of the attack, from a lethal dose of more than 6,000 rads.'

Farraday's voice was shaky when he spoke and Culver had the impression that he asked the next question for the benefit of his staff rather than his own curiosity.

'Can you tell us how many will be left alive after all this?'

Eyes riveted on the Civil Defence officer. He was thoughtful for a moment or two, as though silently counting bodies.

'I would say, and this is purely a rough judgement on my part, that barely a million Londoners will survive.'

He paused again, his eyes cast downwards, as though expecting uproar; but the hushed silence that filled the room was even more daunting.

We can't be sure of any of these figures,' Dealey said, his voice hasty but sombre. 'No one can really predict the results of a nuclear attack because there are no precedents - at least, not on this scale.'

That's perfectly true,' Bryce accepted, 'but my observations are more than mere conjecture. There have been many well-researched reports, official and unofficial, on just this subject over the past few years, using the devastation inflicted upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki as a basis for speculation. The sophistication and advanced striking power of modern weapons were obviously taken into consideration, along with the living conditions of today's society. I'm basing my assumptions on a compromise between government and independent calculations.'

'Nevertheless, we cannot be sure.' Dealey's rebuke was unmistakable. Culver guessed that there had been an earlier, more private meeting between those at the top table, a clandestine conference to decide just what the 'masses' (there was now a tragic irony in that word) should be told. It seemed they hadn't all been in agreement.

We've got families out there!' It was a wild shout and Culver turned to see a small man at a centre table who had risen to his feet, his fists clenched, a moistness to the anger in his eyes. We've got to get to them! We can't leave them out there on their own—'

'No!' There was a brutal coldness to Dealey. We can't leave this shelter to help anyone. It would be fatal.'

'Do you think we care about that?' This time a woman was on her feet, her tears unrestrained. 'Do you think there's anything left for us here? Any life for us to live?'

Other voices joined hers.

'Please!' Dealey's arms were raised once more. We must not lose control! It's only if we survive - and other units like

ours - that we can help the people outside. If we panic, then the survivors of the blast will have no chance at all. You must understand that!'

Farraday leapt to his feet. 'He's right. If we leave this shelter too soon we'll be subjected to lethal doses of radiation poisoning. How will killing ourselves save those on the outside?'

They understood the logic of his argument, but such high emotion was not subservient to hard fact.

There were more shouts, some of them abusive and particularly directed towards Dealey, as a Ministry of Defence employee.

It was Dr Reynolds who calmly brought the room to order.

'If any of you go out from this shelter now, you'll be dead within a matter of weeks, possibly days.' Her voice was raised just enough to be heard over the clamour. She too was standing, her hands tucked into the pockets of her open white tunic, and it was probably the uniform of her profession that gave her some credibility. She represented the physical antithesis of Dealey, a man who was the puppet of a government that had brought their country to war. Their vehemence towards Dealey may have been unjustified (and most of those present realized this despite their anger) but he was there, one of the faceless bureaucrats, within their reach, within striking distance.

Dr Reynolds was well aware of whom the rising hysteria was aimed at, and in some respects could understand it, for these shattered people needed something tangible to blame, someone to be held responsible. Dealey, as far as they're concerned, you're it!