Helen McCloy

by Minotaur Country

  Jeremy’s voice was steady, but there was naked pain in his eyes as he went on. “Tash, you must understand that I still love Vivian. So much so that I am tormented by the idea that this must have happened because I failed her in some way.”

  Tash couldn’t leave him with that thought.

  “Addiction is physical,” she insisted. “Some people become addicts just because a careless doctor keeps them on pain-killing drugs too long during an illness. It doesn’t have to mean that Vivian was unhappy. It could be just that she fell among thieves.”

  “You mean among addicts?”

  “That’s how most new addicts are recruited. Vice loves company. It proselytes with the zeal of Victorian missionaries to the heathen.”

  “Of course. It must be a lonely business, being an outcast.”

  Jeremy walked over to the window and stood silent for a moment, looking up at the stars.

  “Destroying Vivian is the perfect way to destroy me and everything I care about, my marriage and my career. I wonder if anyone hates me that much?”

  “Isn’t hate too strong a word?”

  “You should see some of the hate letters that come into the mailroom here every day.”

  He began to pace the floor. “Why did I ever go into politics? I suppose it was because I like to gamble. This is the big game. Higher stakes than money.”

  Tash smiled. “You do like taking risks, don’t you? Any other man would have got out of politics the moment he found out about Vivian. Another drink?”

  “Yes, let’s both have a nightcap and then I’ll go. I feel a lot better than I did when I came into this room. I knew I had to tell you. For Vivian’s sake I had to find out how much you knew. But I didn’t want to tell you. I had no idea how you’d react.”

  So it had not occurred to him that she might be in love with him.

  He stood, watching her add water to the drinks. “You’re still free to resign, if you still want to.”

  “Thanks.” Tash curled up at the chair end of the chaise longue, sitting on her feet as she sipped her drink.

  Jeremy sat on the long end below her. Glass in one hand, he reached out the other to clasp a hand of hers.

  “Dear Tash, what do you really want to do now? Go or stay?”

  “Stay.”

  There would be heartache in seeing him every day, knowing he loved Vivian, but there would be heartbreak in never seeing him again.

  She disengaged her hand, brushing her hair back from her forehead to make the disengagement seem casual.

  “What about the dead canary? Did anyone ever tell Vivian?”

  “I told her the canary was dead, but I didn’t tell her how he died.”

  “Did you know that I saw the boy pickpocket, Freaky, here in the grounds three nights ago?”

  “Wilkes told me.”

  “I had an impression he was coming out of the house when I saw him. I’ve wondered about that. Could he get past the alarm system? Why did he and Halcon steal Vivian’s letter? How did they know I had her letter?”

  “Wilkes is pretty good at his job, but even he can’t answer those questions yet.”

  Jeremy put down his empty glass and looked at the clock.

  “Good God! Three in the morning!” He laughed. “Anyone who sees me coming out of your rooms at this hour is going to get ideas.”

  He was halfway to the door when he paused to look back.

  “Tash, I would have missed you if you’d gone. I like having you around.”

  That was the moment when the stillness of the night was shattered by the howl of a siren.

  It went on and on and on, brazen-throated and inexhaustible, smashing against the eardrums and vibrating through all the dark, secret cavities of the body.

  For a moment they could only stand and stare at one another.

  Then Tash shouted above the racket: “What is it?”

  “Fire.”

  “Here?”

  “Must be. That’s our alarm.”

  He opened the door.

  They could not even see the corridor as great billows of smoke surged into the room.

  12

  JEREMY SLAMMED the door. Curls of smoke seeped under the lintel and spiraled up toward the ceiling.

  “Let’s try the windows.”

  There was more than one siren shrieking now. It was pandemonium, a word to remind us that noise as well as fire is an ingredient of hell.

  The first thing she saw from the window she never forgot—living trees on fire, blazing like giant torches with the brisk, crackling sound of a good fire on an open hearth, trees that had taken generations to grow. This place would not be Leafy Way again in her lifetime.

  How often she had worked to coax green logs into a blaze. These logs weren’t just green, they were alive, yet they needed no coaxing. They were burning as fast as paper, close to the house. This was not a “good” fire. This was the threat of death made visible.

  “Where are the firemen?” she cried.

  “On their way. Those sirens are theirs.”

  “And the first one?”

  “Our alarm here in the house. It’s supposed to be sensitive to both heat and smoke. I can’t understand how the flames got such a start without its going off before.”

  “Can we jump or drop?”

  Jeremy looked down at the terrace. “No. Especially with flagstones below. We must wait for the firemen if we can.”

  They both turned to look at the door behind them. Now smoke was leaking through every crack, top, bottom, and sides.

  “We may have to jump if they don’t get here soon,” said Jeremy. “Better a broken ankle than suffocation.”

  Now there were voices. A mob of people charged around the corner from the front of the house. They were running beside fire engines that had to move slowly over the turf.

  Wilkes and two of his men were trying to block their way.

  “Don’t crowd the firemen. They know their job. You can’t help.”

  There was the sound of an axe crashing through glass and wood. Just below the balcony, two firemen were trying to attach a hose to a standpipe. “Is there enough pressure?” asked somebody.

  Water gushed. The firemen directed their jets toward windows nearer the front of the house where, as everyone knew, the Governor and his lady had their private apartments. Searchlights from fire engines were concentrating on that end, too. The balcony where Tash and Jeremy were standing was still in shadow. No one had noticed them yet.

  Tash looked down at the crowd, now standing back a good way from the house. The only light that reached their upturned faces was a flicker of flame and shadow that jerked and leapt, pranced and pirouetted to the crackling music of burning trees.

  It was hard not to think of that fire as something alive, hungry and malicious, exulting in its own cruelty. Only Goya or Bosch could have made paint render a scene so infernal.

  Smoke stung their eyes now and parched their throats as they breathed the poisoned air. They hardly dared to look behind them again. When they did, they saw a room smothered in smoke and one ravenous, red flame licking the rug on their side of the closed door.

  It was better to look the other way. Beyond the fire engines, Tash recognized some of the ushers still in pajamas. The fully clothed were mostly reporters and press photographers. She was surprised to see Bill Brewer among them.

  Like everyone else, he was staring up at the house, his face white under the play of red light, his eyeballs glittering whenever they caught the reflection of the flames.

  “There’s the Governor now!” It was Carlos’ voice shouting to firemen. “On that balcony. Bring a ladder. Quick!”

  Carlos darted forward until he was on the terrace just below the balcony. He was barefoot, wearing slacks and a shirt, as if he had pulled on the first things that came to hand when the alarm went off.

  He looked up and shouted: “Jerry! We couldn’t find you anywhere. How the devil did you get up there?”

  “Sorry,” said
Jeremy without offering an explanation.

  Tash saw instantly what had happened. When the alarm went off, Carlos and others in the household had failed to find the Governor, because no one would think of looking for him in her rooms at three in the morning.

  Now everyone was going to know exactly where he had been, including the reporters and Vivian.

  She began to regret her flimsy negligee and Jerry’s tennis shirt with sleeves rolled up and no necktie.

  Firemen were dragging a long, heavy ladder up to the balcony with help from Carlos. Its top came to rest against the railing. One fireman held it steady at the bottom and called up the balcony: “Okay, Governor?”

  Jeremy stepped back.

  “Must I go first?” cried Tash.

  He grinned. “What do you think? GOVERNOR RUNS DOWN LADDER LEAVING WOMAN TO FLAMES? A headline like that is all I need now!”

  The flagstones looked a long way down. Suddenly, they tilted. To her shame, she knew this was vertigo.

  She climbed over the railing and stood for a moment on the narrow ledge beyond it, then turned to face the balcony and Jeremy. His smile encouraged her. One of her feet found the top rung of the ladder behind her where she could not see it. She closed her eyes and began to feel her way down, rung by rung.

  She was halfway down when a champagne cork popping sound startled her so she nearly fell. She opened her eyes and caught the last blue-white flare of a press photographer’s flash bulb.

  She was almost at the bottom when Jeremy called down to Carlos:

  “You’ve got Vivian out?”

  “Not yet. The fire seems to have started in her room, and—Jerry! Come back! Don’t be a fool!”

  Tash looked up just in time to see Jeremy turn away from the balcony and go back into the burning room.

  “Tash! Quick!” Carlos lifted her the rest of the way down and ran up the ladder.

  The fireman holding the ladder shook his head.

  “Are those guys nuts?”

  But he followed Carlos up the ladder.

  Tash felt an arm around her shoulders. It was Hilary.

  She was wearing a mink coat over pajamas, carrying a jewel case, a purse, and a passport. She would always have enough presence of mind to think of her own interests in any crisis.

  “He has to do it,” said Hilary. “How could he not do it?”

  “But the firemen are here. They’re trained. They’ve got equipment.”

  “But they’re not married to Vivian. It’s been a madhouse. No one in the household knew where anyone was. Even the firemen got lost.”

  “You’re joking!”

  “No, it happened. Things like that always happen at moments like this.”

  Another fireman was going up the ladder, axe in hand. Some of those below turned a hose on the balcony and the open window beyond to clear a path for him.

  Hilary’s arm tightened around Tash’s shoulders. “Stop shaking. It will soon be over.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  Tash turned her head and saw Bill Brewer.

  “When it’s all over you might take this girl home to her own place,” said Hilary. “No one will be able to sleep here the rest of the night.”

  “Would you like to go now?” Bill asked Tash.

  “No.” Tash clung to Hilary. She would understand why. Bill might not.

  He was looking up at the open window where smoke still boiled onto the balcony. “They’ve been gone a long time.”

  “Not really. It only seems long.” Hilary looked down at the watch on her wrist. “It’s just nine minutes since the alarm went off and just three minutes since Jeremy went back into the house.”

  “Three minutes is a long time in a fire out of control,” said Bill.

  Hilary looked at him with exasperation. “Will you kindly be quiet?”

  He looked at her in surprise, then caught her glance at Tash and understood.

  They heard tires scrape to a gritty stop on gravel. Job came around the corner of the house from the front, fully dressed, running at a jog trot.

  He swerved when he saw Tash. “Where’s Jerry?”

  It was hard to get the words out, but she managed: “He’s in the house.”

  “In the house?” Job shouted. “Why?”

  “He went back for Vivian,” said Hilary.

  “And you let him? Where’s Carlos?”

  “In the house with Jeremy.”

  For a moment Job looked as if he were going to hit Hilary. “How could you?”

  He turned to the nearest fireman. “You know who I am?”

  “Yes, sir, you’re Mr. Jackman, the Lieutenant Governor.”

  “What the hell are you doing out here? It’s your job to go in and get the Governor out.”

  “The Fire Commissioner said—”

  “Blast the Fire Commissioner! Take more men and do what I say now.”

  The fireman started up the ladder, followed by others. Job was striding through the crowd demanding the Fire Commissioner.

  “I had no idea Job Jackman was so devoted to the Governor,” said Bill.

  “Job managed Jeremy’s first campaign,” said Hilary. “They’ve been together ever since. It’s symbiosis. Neither can get along without the other. Job is a born campaign manager. As boss of the state machine, he controls party discipline and tactics, but he could never have been elected Lieutenant Governor without Jeremy. He’s the one with mana, so he commands votes. He will always be out in front, but Job will always be in the background. Warwick, the king-maker many times, but never a king himself.”

  There was a moan from the crowd like the mutter of distant surf. Tash looked up.

  Jeremy was standing on the balcony holding something in his arms wrapped in a blanket.

  A fireman ran up the ladder and took the burden from him.

  “Have you oxygen tanks?” he asked.

  “In the ambulance.”

  Tash was afraid to look at the burden the fireman carried, yet she had to.

  Strangely, Vivian might have been asleep. Only the edge of the blanket was singed. Something in her room must have protected her face and hair. The Chinese screen around her bed? Could it have protected her from smoke, too?

  “She’s still breathing.” Jeremy spoke, as if that were the most important thing in the world—and so it was to him at that moment, and therefore, to Tash as well.

  He had fared worse than Vivian. His hair and eyebrows were scorched, red burns blotched his face, his hands were already swollen. The white shirt and slacks were grimy with ash. One sleeve was ripped from shoulder to elbow. Every now and then he had to yield to a coughing spell.

  Job thrust his way through the crowd to Jeremy.

  “You damned fool! You never should have risked—”

  Jeremy turned and looked at Job, and Job fell silent.

  Carlos was coming down the ladder in no better shape than Jeremy. He was limping because he had burned his bare feet.

  Bill proffered cigarettes. In spite of their coughing, Jeremy and Carlos each took one.

  After the first, deep drag, Jeremy saw Wilkes and called out to him:

  “Is everyone out now?”

  “Yes, sir.” Wilkes came toward them, brushing ash from his sleeves. “The Fire Commissioner says it’s under control now. He also says that if the firemen had been five minutes later the whole place would have burned to the ground.”

  Jeremy grinned the grin the news photographers knew so well. “Then the taxpayers weren’t robbed when they spent all that money on a fire alarm years ago?”

  “No, but we should have a much more modern alarm now. I can’t understand why this one didn’t go off when the fire first started.”

  “Does anyone know how it did start?” asked Tash.

  How much Jeremy’s grin hid from the world! When it faded as it did now, his face looked older, sadder.

  “That’s a job for the police as well as the fire department,” he said. “Have you any idea now how it started, Wi
lkes?”

  “Not yet, sir. The insurance company will send people here tomorrow. I mean, today. They’re the real experts. All we know now is that the fire started in Mrs. Playfair’s bedroom.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It was much fiercer and much farther along there than anywhere else.”

  “I noticed a porcelain ashtray on her bed,” said Carlos. “Perhaps she fell asleep with a burning cigarette in her hand and it fell on the floor. She was still in bed when we found her, as if she had passed from sleep to unconsciousness without waking.”

  “How could she sleep through the sirens and all the other noise?” demanded Bill. “No one else did.”

  “She’d had some form of sedative,” said Hilary. “Her doctor prescribed two pills every night at bedtime.”

  “The smoke could have made her unconscious,” said Carlos. “That heavy Chinese screen around her bed protected her from flames quite a bit, but the smoke in her room was unbelievable. I almost lost consciousness myself.”

  Jeremy turned to Wilkes. “What about files and records?”

  “All safe. Most of the office wing on the ground floor was spared by the fire, but not by the firemen. They had to cut their way through ground floor walls in order to get at some of the worst spots on the floor above.”

  “Then none of us can spend the rest of the night here?”

  “Oh, no! There are a few spots still smouldering that may burst into flame again. The firemen will be here all night, and I’ll mount a guard to prevent looting.”

  “I’ll go back to my own apartment in town,” said Tash.

  “And the rest of you can come to my place at Fox Run,” added Job.

  “Thanks,” said Jeremy. “But you’re pretty far out. I want to be in town near the hospital. Carlos and I can go to a hotel.”

  “Then I’ll drive you and Carlos into town,” said Job. “Hilary, I can take you on to Fox Run. Jo Beth will be glad to have you, and Tash—”

  “I’m taking Tash home,” said Bill.

  “Oh?” Jeremy swung around to look at Bill. “You’re an old friend of hers, of course. I forgot.”

  He came over to Tash and took both her hands in his. “Good night, Tash. I’m sorry I got you into all this. I’ll call you tomorrow. Take care of her, Bill.”