‘How many deaths has Formula One caused?’
‘Is Ptarmigan going to compensate the deceased families?’
‘Is the FIA going to pay for this?’
‘The FIA has failed the Russian people on safety standards – do you expect to keep your job?’
‘Are people going to be prosecuted because of this?’
‘Can you stay on as president after this?’
‘When will you resign?’
‘Will you be going to jail?’
San Marino held up his hand. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I have said what I came to say. It is far too early to know what will come out of this. We have to conduct a full investigation first, and then – depending on the facts – draw informed conclusions. Only then will we be able to decide what action to take. Anyone found responsible for this tragedy will be held to account. And, yes,’ he said firmly, ‘if I am considered to have been at fault then, of course, I shall resign.’
Such self-responsibility came as a shock. To most journalists there, more used to dealing with politicians who were far more likely to pass the buck, hearing someone in a privileged position discuss their own future so candidly was a real surprise. Such openness from the FIA president seemed to earn him a considered silence in response.
San Marino used the ensuing calmness to reinforce the authenticity of his presence in the room. Lowering his voice he added: ‘Thank you for your time and patience. I intend to talk to you again on a regular basis,’ with which he bowed and made a dignified exit.
To everyone's surprise, there was no baying from the room as the president of the FIA left the conference.
Maybe – just maybe – his dignity had calmed the press corps down.
Whatever comfort the Formula One world may have taken from San Marino's handling of the press conference, its effects were all-too short-lived.
THIRTEEN
Sensing the mood of the people's response to the tragedy at Zhar-ptitsa, one individual saw a significant political opportunity. President Tarkovsky, head of state of the Russian Federation, chose to go on television that night and make a statement to the nation.
Broadcasting live at 9 p.m. – deliberately after San Marino's press conference earlier that same evening – the high-cheekboned, Easter-Island features of this lowborn Cossack appeared, face to camera. Supposedly Kennedyesque, he was sitting at his desk in the Kremlin; behind him were the flags of the Russian Federation and the double-headed eagle. The president seemed overly dressed for the part. He wore an outsized black necktie, a dark suit, a sombre-coloured shirt and a very obvious black armband. Most strikingly, the president had a conspicuous lack of TV make-up – to convey the pallor of someone who was still immersed in heartfelt mourning.
Tarkovsky addressed the nation, appearing as crestfallen as Tony Blair had achieved for his “People's Princess” speech.
Tragedy had fallen on Russia.
It was hard to come to terms with such a devastating loss.
There was a message here for the nation.
The country was getting what it deserved: certain people in Moscow had been seduced by glamorous, glitzy things. Western things. These people were too ambitious. Too prepared to cut corners. He, their president, undertook to root them out.
Anyone connected with this tragedy was going to pay for bringing hurt to Russia, hurt to Russian citizens.
‘Wrongdoing will be punished,’ he declared solemnly.
He ended the broadcast by stating that he, personally, understood Russia's need to grieve. Consequently, he was announcing a two-day period of official mourning, and that he would represent the nation at a service of remembrance. He had asked for this to be held in the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. Whatever the cost, he declared, Russia would honour their dead.
‘Immediately thereafter,’ the president stated sternly, ‘I will not stop until those responsible for these deaths have been identified and punished.’
The trauma consultant, Mr Pyotr Uglov, was troubled by two of his findings from the emergency examination of Remy Sabatino. The F1 driver had broken her left ankle and wrist, but these were relatively straightforward injuries and weren’t going to present too much of a problem; Uglov ordered that these breaks be set without delay. Several issues emerged from the X-rays and full-body CT scan; the trauma specialist inferred that Sabatino had two serious complications. He was troubled by a severe swelling in the right-frontal lobe of her brain, while he was particularly concerned by a marked shadow across both C1 and C2 vertebrae – suggesting she’d suffered severe compression or torsion damage to her neck.
At great length, Uglov studied all the three-dimensional scans, focusing especially on those of the bones, ligaments and tendons of her spine. He was anxious that none of these injuries be allowed to deteriorate. His preference was to immobilize Sabatino's neck to give her injuries a better chance to heal.
Uglov's other concern focused on any adverse reaction from the patient, should Sabatino surface unexpectedly and in all likelihood start writhing in discomfort; such forces could well complicate the healing process. Uglov's software solution to manage Sabatino's recovery was a mix of fluids – painkillers, diamorphine and a sedative, all administered via the cannula. His hardware solution would have been to fit a neck brace – to immobilize the top half of her body, particularly her neck – except that his preferred device could cause problems of its own; it could even exacerbate the swelling in her skull.
Despite the risks, Uglov did decide to proceed.
It was going to take eight people to fit the thing to the still-unconscious driver.
Six orbital pins on a plane above her eyes were screwed into Sabatino's skull. Then, the circular metal band – the halo – around her head was fitted and bolted to the orbital pins. Five people were needed to lift Sabatino's torso, keeping her spine and neck straight throughout. Uglov fed the back plate of the brace underneath her. Laying Sabatino's head, neck and shoulders back down, the front plate of the brace – resembling body armour – was then laid on her chest and locked with butterfly nuts to the back plate down each flank. Four long rods were fastened to the halo band; these were then aligned with the lugs on the vest, anchored, and bolted rigid. Sabatino's head, neck and shoulders were now completely immobile.
Mr Uglov, with further studies of the exhaustive X-rays, scans and test reports, was satisfied that after the setting of her broken bones and the precautionary use of the halo brace, he had fulfilled his immediate responsibilities to the patient.
Sabatino was wheeled out of the emergency assessment ward and into the intensive care unit, in which she would be monitored – indefinitely – twenty-four hours a day.
Eight hours on from the horrific crash, though, and being kept in an artificial coma via a cocktail of drugs, she had yet to regain consciousness.
There was still no understanding of Sabatino's mental condition.
FOURTEEN
Throughout the night, coverage of the disaster continued to run on Russian television and radio. That exposure, and the repeated clips from the president's national address, made the loss of life that the country had suffered its only focus of attention. All of which contributed to the memorial service becoming that much more poignant; within an hour of its announcement, a crowd was gathering on the streets and pavements around the cathedral.
The high pressure system which had brought the recent summer weather to Moscow meant that the skies above the city were cloudless. While pleasant in the daytime, the same weather system made for cold nights and cool mornings. Which seemed particularly fitting. A chill in the air for that day, of all days, matched the mood around Moscow. It matched the crispness of people's behaviour, attitude and conduct: the atmosphere around the city was almost febrile. Twenty-seven Muscovites, so far, had been slain at the Grand Prix. A feeling of shock continued to pervade Moscow: the whole of Russia was angry.
Overnight, barriers were erected to cordon off the approaches to the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. Long before most of the city awoke, there was a massive police presence on the streets – deemed necessary from a security perspective. This service was to be held in the heart of political Moscow, a kilometre from Red Square, the Kremlin – the seat of government. Law and order had to be maintained, however distressed the public mood might be. Crowds could not be allowed to get out of hand.
