The lower service roof had become a floor made from other people’s rooms.
A cupboard lay on its back between two broken apron members. Bedding hung from a rail that now pointed downward. One wall panel had landed almost upright, its painted inside facing the pale open space beyond Mercy’s flank.
Iven stood on the old stair with the recovery lead and studied the way in.
They had already called from above and below. They would call again after moving the first obstruction. No reply yet did not make an unsearched space empty.
The lead pointed to the outer member.
“That comes toward us if we cut the cover loose.”
“Yes.”
“Can you hold it?”
