There was still too much momentum.
The remains of the car continued to spin on up the bank, scything down other sections of the crowd.
Finally the car came to rest.
A plume of smoke, dust and dirt billowed out from under it.
The television picture switched back to the heliborne camera. Quartano, along with every other TV viewer, could hardly believe what he was seeing.
From above, the scene on the ground was horrific.
Up the grassy bank were scattered bodies – right up to the point where the residual part of the Ptarmigan had finally came to rest.
At the top of the bank lay the remnants of Sabatino's Formula One car.
All around the wreckage were twisted human remains. From the TV shots it was impossible to count the number of bodies. It was obvious, though, that there were already multiple deaths. Men, women and children, all there to enjoy the spectacle of the Grand Prix, would not be going home.
At the left-hand end of the grass bank was the worst image of all.
Even the ratings- and award-hungry TV producer felt he could show it only once. A two-seater pushchair – along with the mother of its two occupants – was strewn across the grass. This young mother and her two toddlers were not now going home either. One of Sabatino's chunky rear wheels was sitting in the middle of this family, like a bowling ball surrounded by the pins it had just felled.
TEN
An emotional reaction was felt all around the Zhar-ptitsa circuit. Large digital screens had given every spectator an all-too clear picture of what had just happened.
The race director red-flagged the race, ending it there and then. There was no obstruction on the track, but it was obvious urgent help was going to be needed – and the quickest way of getting it there would be via the track itself. He had to keep that access clear. Most drivers reacted the moment they saw the signals, lifted off and made for the pit lane.
The director called up the emergency services. Moments later sirens could be heard blaring out.
Messages were radioed through to the circuit's dedicated air support unit. Immediate evacuation of the casualties to the prearranged accident and emergency facilities around Moscow would be inevitable. But normal Grand Prix emergency procedures were designed to support the evacuation and recovery of the drivers, meaning their plans allowed for two or three souls at most. Who knew how many bodies were lying injured across that bank?
The race director flipped through his CCTV feeds to confirm the remaining cars were leaving the circuit. One shot of the Hermitage Straight showed several marshals standing out on the track surface, waving red flags as cars approached the area of the accident. He was relieved to see that those drivers were taking heed.
An ambulance pulled up at the point where Sabatino had left the track. Coming to a stop a doctor and a paramedic crew jumped out. The paramedics grabbed armfuls of equipment before hurrying across the gravel trap to the puncture point in the tyre wall.
At the head of this posse the doctor, looking up, saw a scene evocative of the apocalypse. It looked like a battlefield, as if it had been rent by a bomb. Bodies were strewn right across the slope above him. He couldn’t tell how many from a scan of the area. Most were motionless.
At the very top were the remains of Sabatino's car. The canoe-shaped monocoque was lying ignominiously on its side.
There was no movement from the driver, at all.
Sounds of further sirens could be heard approaching from different directions. In a matter of minutes, upwards of thirty medical staf and paramedics were crossing the gravel, converging on the accident.
In race control, the director made and took a continuous stream of calls and radio messages, coordinating the emergency services and the vital help that would be needed on the ground.
Twelve minutes after the crash, a high-pitched whine could be heard. A light helicopter – an air ambulance – was banking steeply over the river, losing height, and hovering in above the trees. It was looking to put down – on the track at the end of the Hermitage Straight – as close as it could get to the scene.
At the crash site, the FIA doctor – Patrick Fairfax – called to a young nurse and asked her to follow him. Carrying an aluminium case, he ran up the bank, leading her towards what was left of Sabatino's car – lying on its side. The doctor knelt beside the monocoque.
He tried to talk to Sabatino.
There was no reply.
Was she unconscious?
Dead?
Urgently Fairfax looked for signs of life. From his pocket, he ripped out his stethoscope and, with extreme care – without wanting to rock her head, for fear of exacerbating any possible neck or spinal injuries – tried to press the diaphragm against her chest. It was not straightforward: her whole body was hanging sideways from the car and there were layers of clothes between the device and her body.
Fairfax heard nothing.
He moved the diaphragm to another part of her chest.
Lower down the bank, another doctor and accompanying gang of medics were clambering through the remains of the concrete wall. This man instructed the paramedics to carry out immediate assessments of all the injuries. A senior nurse was nominated to triage the findings to be sure that clear priorities were set between the injured. On her findings, the remaining medical staf would be deployed to attend the most urgent cases. Splitting up, the paramedics spread out and went straight to work.
Fairfax finally heard something from Sabatino. The faintest of rasps.
Could he be sure? There was a considerable noise all around him – moaning, shouting, vehicle engines, sirens and the helicopter.
Fairfax moved the diaphragm again. She was alive! He said to the nurse: ‘We’re going to need to turn the wreckage over. Call for help, quickly!’
Several medics responded, running up the hill towards them.
Fairfax was surveying the car and its immediate surroundings. As the help closed in, he directed one of them to his aluminium case. ‘Grab a neck brace, will you?’
A moment later he instructed the nurse: ‘Hold her head still.’
Extremely carefully, Fairfax tried to feed the plastic restraint up under her neck and then feed the straps round the back of her head. It wasn’t going to be anywhere near satisfactory. The FIA doctor quickly addressed the other medics who had just converged. He asked three of them to come and help lift on his side, while urgently directing another four to stand on the other, ready to steady and lower the car once they managed to roll it.
