yelled.
The mother screamed and Snow White punched her in the mouth.
‘No, you won’t,’ said Shepherd. The little girl struggled but the teenager held her tight.
Wright was trying to open the connecting door but two of the gang members were pushing against it.
The train roared out of the tunnel and into Leicester Square station. Faces flashed by but Shepherd concentrated on the teenager. The blade of the Stanley knife had pierced the little girl’s neck and a dribble of blood ran down her shirt.
The doors opened and the passengers scattered. Shepherd moved to allow an overweight businessman to waddle by, clutching his briefcase to his chest, but kept his eyes on the boy with the knife. ‘Just drop the knife on the floor and this will all work out just fine,’ he said.
The boy pulled back the little girl’s hair. ‘I’ll cut her!’ he yelled again.
‘No, you won’t,’ said Shepherd. Passengers started to get on to the train but stopped when they saw what was happening. The teenager stabbed the knife into the child’s throat and blood spurted.
The mother screamed, her hands over her face.
Snow White ran out on to the platform, cursing at passengers to get out of her way. The two black teenagers ran after her. The boy with the knife spat at Shepherd, then pushed the child down the carriage and bolted on to the platform. The little girl staggered against Shepherd. Her shirt was soaked with blood but she was still conscious, eyes wide with fear. She tried to speak but all that came out was a gurgle. Her mother ran towards Shepherd, arms outstretched. She fell to the floor and grabbed her daughter.
Shepherd looked at the teenagers running full pelt down the platform, then at the child. It was no contest. ‘Put her down gently,’ he said to the mother. He examined the cut. It was about two inches long and deep, but blood wasn’t pumping out, which meant that a major artery hadn’t been severed. The mother was sobbing.
Wright burst through the connecting door. ‘I’ll radio for a paramedic.’
‘Go!’ said Shepherd. Wright hurried on to the platform.
The female officer was preventing passengers getting on to the train.
The child coughed and blood splattered out of her mouth. Shepherd needed something to stem the bleeding. She coughed again and more blood spurted over her chest. Shepherd’s medical training was basic, and mostly concerned with broken limbs and bullet wounds. The way her mouth kept filling with blood suggested he should get her head up. He propped her against a seat, then took off his leather jacket and the holstered Glock.
Wright appeared at the carriage door. ‘Paramedics on their way,’ he said.
‘Okay.’ Shepherd tore off his shirt and pressed it to the little girl’s throat. He smiled at her. ‘The paramedics will be here in a minute. It’s going to be okay.’ Blood seeped into the shirt and he increased the pressure on the wound.
The child stared wide-eyed at him. Her mother stroked her hair. ‘Hang on, honey, you’re going to be all right,’ she said. She turned to Shepherd, eyes brimming with tears. ‘What can we do? We’ve got to stop her bleeding.’
‘What’s your daughter’s name?’ he asked.
‘Emily. Emily McKenna.’
Emily coughed and more blood gushed from her lips. Her chest heaved and Shepherd could see she was having trouble breathing. Blood was flowing down her windpipe and Shepherd knew he had to do something quickly.
‘Where are the paramedics?’ he asked Wright.
Wright shrugged helplessly. ‘They know the situation,’ he said. ‘They said they’ll be right here.’
‘We need them now.’
‘The chief inspector said they’re on the way.’
Emily’s chest was heaving as she fought for breath. She was choking to death. ‘Have you got a Biro?’ Shepherd asked.
Wright fumbled in his pocket and pulled one out. ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘The blood’s running into her lungs,’ said Shepherd.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Mrs McKenna.
‘We have to help your daughter breathe,’ said Shepherd. He put his hands on Emily’s shoulders. He could see the panic in her eyes.‘Listen,Emily. You have to lie down again, okay?’ She nodded. ‘Then I want you to close your eyes and imagine you’re somewhere else.’
Emily made a gurgling sound as her mouth tried to form words. ‘Don’t talk,’ said Shepherd, and lowered her to the floor.
‘What are you doing?’ said Mrs McKenna.
‘Close your eyes, Emily,’ said Shepherd. He reached into his pocket and took out his Swiss Army knife, flicked out a blade and wiped it on his shirt. There was no time to worry about infection – they could pump antibiotics into her later. If he didn’t fix her breathing Emily would be dead within minutes.
‘Oh, God, no,’ whispered Mrs McKenna.
‘It has to be done,’ said Shepherd. ‘It won’t hurt, I promise, and it will save her life.’
Emily coughed and more blood gushed from her lips.
‘Hold her hands, Mrs McKenna. Keep talking to her – keep her calm.’ He pulled the ink cartridge out of the Biro and tossed it on to the seat behind him.
Mrs McKenna looked wildly at Wright as if he might have an alternative suggestion.
‘Do it now!’ said Shepherd.
Mrs McKenna knelt down beside her daughter and took her hands. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here.’
Shepherd took the child’s throat in his left hand and gently squeezed the windpipe.
‘I’ll check where they are,’ said Wright. He ran on to the platform, talking into his radio.
‘You can’t stick that in her throat!’ said Mrs McKenna.
‘She won’t feel it,’ said Shepherd, ‘and if we don’t let her get air into her lungs . . .’ He pressed the tip of the blade between the cartilage ridges of her windpipe until it popped through, pulled it out, then pressed with his fingers. The hole opened wide. He put the knife on to the seat and pushed the plastic tube into the hole. Air sucked in through the tube and Emily’s chest stopped juddering.
‘It’s okay, darling,’ said Mrs McKenna.
Emily’s mouth moved soundlessly. Her chest was moving up and down, and air was whistling through the tube.
Shepherd sat back on his heels and wiped his forehead on the back of his arm.
Wright appeared at the carriage door. ‘They’re here,’ he said. ‘One minute.’
‘Do you have a clean handkerchief, Mrs McKenna?’ asked Shepherd.
Mrs McKenna didn’t take her eyes off her daughter but fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief.
Shepherd took it and wrapped it round the base of the Biro tube.
‘Hang on, precious,’ said Mrs McKenna.
Emily’s breathing had settled down. Blood was still trickling out of her mouth but she wasn’t choking now.
Shepherd heard rapid footsteps. Two men in green and yellow fluorescent jackets dashed into the carriage. He stood up to give them room to work.‘Throat wound, no major arterial damage. Her mouth was filling with blood so I did a tracheotomy,’ he said.
One of the paramedics checked the tube. ‘Good work.’
The second paramedic felt for a pulse while the first went to work on Emily’s neck.
Shepherd helped Mrs McKenna to her feet. There was blood on her hands and smeared across the front of her coat. ‘She’ll be okay,’ he said.
Tears were running down the woman’s face. ‘How could they do that to my little girl?’ she asked.
Shepherd said nothing. It was a question he couldn’t answer.
The hatch in the cell door clanged open and a face appeared in the gap. It was the WPC who’d taken her to see Gary Payne. ‘Are you okay, Mrs Kerr?’ she asked. She had a sweet face, thought Angie. Her eyes were a blue so pale that they were almost grey and she had used mascara on her lashes.
‘I’m fine,’ said Angie, in a monotone.
