He’d been slowly stirring, still half-dozing, not wanting to move. Somewhere outside, beyond the open window, he could hear the first trills of the dawn chorus as the birds began to sing and chatter.
Then the explosion. Louder than thunder, deeper, a dull sound that rippled and boomed. And then it was gone, leaving a sudden, dead silence that seemed to hang in the air.
Harper sat up abruptly, looking at the clock. A little after half past four, still full darkness outside.
‘What was that?’ Annabelle’s voice was a sleepy mumble.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. He parted the curtains. Off in the distance, down towards the river, he saw the raw glow of a fire. For a moment a tongue of flame rose into the sky. ‘I need to go.’
TWO
It was too early for the trams or omnibuses. He dashed along the road, staring at the horizon. The fire must be close to the railway station. Off to the east, dawn was just a pale blue band at the bottom of the sky, but to the southwest the light was brighter and fiercer. Already he could taste the smoke in the air, acrid and hot.
Millgarth police station was almost empty, only the night sergeant behind the counter.
‘Where is it?’ Harper asked him urgently.
‘Down at New Station, sir. We’ve got every fire engine in the city there. The insurance companies have even sent theirs. I’ve had to give them all our constables to keep order.’ He pinched his lips together and shook his head. ‘There’s no one out on the beat.’
Harper ran out of the door, running through the market. The early traders were just setting up, gossiping and stopping work to glance nervously into the distance. Along Boar Lane the noise of the blaze grew. Even with the hearing in his right ear worsening month by month, it was still a fearsome roar. By the time he reached New Station it had become overwhelming. All around, the heat was intense.
Men were running and yelling, light flaring up and fading with the flames, the smoke thick as fog. His eyes stung and his throat was raw. He coughed. Hot ashes floated in the air. It was like walking into a furnace.
Harper searched for anyone familiar in the confusion. Someone who knew what he was doing. But all he saw as he wandered were people unrecognizable under the soot and grime.
Finally he made out a face he knew. Dick Hill, bellowing orders to someone. He threaded his way through the press of people.
‘What’s happened?’ He had to tap Hill on the shoulder and shout in his ear before the man turned. The two of them had started on the force together, but Hill had transferred over to the brigade early on. Now he held the rank of inspector.
‘Started in the Arches.’ His voice was hoarse. Harper leaned towards him, trying to make out the words. ‘Can’t tell anything more until it’s out.’ He turned away to direct a constable. ‘We’ve got everything we own here and it’s still getting worse. We’ll be lucky if it doesn’t destroy everything.’
‘What can I do?’ Harper shouted.
‘Find one of the engines. Get pumping. Over there.’ He gestured vaguely towards the river and Harper pushed his way between people until he found a fire engine.
The inspector stripped off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and took over from a man whose face had turned almost as red as the fire.
After five minutes his arms and shoulders were sore. He was dripping with sweat, but the heat from the fire was so intense that the clothes simply dried on his back. Someone passed him a canteen and he drank thirstily, emptying some of the water over his head before handing it on. Blisters formed and broke on his palms, but he kept on pumping, finally taking a break after an hour, stumbling away and trying to find a few lungfuls of clean air.
He knew it had to be daylight, but all around it was impossible to tell; the smoke was too thick. It was like walking through hell. Harper kept coughing and spitting, but he couldn’t get the taste out of his mouth. After ten minutes he returned, hands so sore he couldn’t even close them, and started pumping again.
It was like being in a furnace. The fire at the station roared like a monster, one that couldn’t be beaten.
Billy Reed pulled the hose, trying to change the angle. But it didn’t matter what they tried, the inferno simply kept blazing. He felt as if the air was singeing his lungs and fell back a few feet, trying to catch his breath.
It was spreading, he could see that. He just prayed they’d be able to beat it back without any of his men losing their lives.
The bell had brought him instantly awake. For a moment Sergeant Reed thought he was back in the army, in Afghanistan. He groped for his rifle, surprised it wasn’t there. Then he knew exactly where he was: the central fire station on Park Row, and the alarm was ringing.
He dragged on his jacket and boots and joined the others by the engine. One man was already fixing the horses in their traces, another checking the hoses on the reel. They had one of the brand-new steam engines. The best around for dousing a fire quickly, everyone said.
Reed glanced at the clerk’s scribble on a piece of paper.
‘New Station,’ he told the others. ‘You all know what to do. I don’t want anyone taking stupid chances.’ He paused, letting the words sink in, looking from one face to the next among the crew. ‘If there are people in danger, save them. Forget about property. We’re there to put the fire out.’
The man with the horses cried, ‘Ready,’ as the crew climbed on board and the doors opened. As soon as they were on the street they could see it, the curls of flame and the clouds of smoke.
‘Just remember what you’ve been taught and you’ll be fine,’ he told Jem Hargreaves with a wink. The man had only finished his training the week before and kept his gaze fixed on the distance.
Reed had been leading the crew since his arrival in April. They’d been wary of him at first, new and untested, but he’d quickly proved himself. They’d tackled fires on almost every shift since he started and by now they trusted him. But this would be the biggest. It looked as if half of New Station was in flames.
He was already thinking ahead. Run the hose down to the river, bring up the pressure in the boiler. Plan, that’s what he’d been taught. Be aware. Every fire could kill: they’d drummed it into him when he began. Always know your way out. Look after your men. And don’t take chances.
He closed his eyes and thought about Elizabeth and the children, praying that he’d live until the end of the day to see them again. In his army days Reed had had no one. Living or dying had never worried him then. Now he possessed something valuable, something that mattered. These days he was more careful with his life.
‘All back safe,’ he said, and everyone on the engine echoed it. Their watchwords whenever they went in. They looked out for each other. They had to.
Elizabeth would already be working, starting her round of the bakeries. When he told her he couldn’t be a detective any more, she sat and listened to his reasons, then held him and simply said, ‘Just do what you think is right, luv.’
And in his heart he’d had no choice. He’d perjured himself so Tom Harper could have his conviction. He knew the inspector had covered for him in the past when he’d been drunk or violent. He’d done it gladly, too many times. But once he said the words in court, all those debts were paid. After that, he needed something fresh, something clean. Off the sick list, he’d passed the physical examination and put in his transfer.
‘Are you sure?’ Superintendent Kendall had asked. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Sergeant.’
‘Positive, sir,’ Reed had replied, waiting while the man signed the paper.
The driver reined in the horses. The men jumped down, pushing the engine into position.
‘Right, lads,’ Billy yelled. ‘You know what to do. Everyone back safe.’
Eight hours later and they were still there. Bruised, battered, hair singed by the embers, skin smeared with soot, they had hardly enough strength left to guide the hoses on to the flames. Billy could make out their eyes. Everyone was drained, utterly exhausted. God
help people if there were any other fires in Leeds, he thought; every engine in town was here. More from the surrounding areas, too, and they still hadn’t put out the fire. He didn’t care what had started the blaze. The only thought in his head was beating it back.
He wiped a dirty hand across his mouth, tasting nothing but smoke. The rails for the trains lay buckled and twisted into grotesque shapes, still glowing red hot.
A hand on his arm made him turn. It was Inspector Hill. The man brought his lips close to Reed’s ear.
‘Go home. The next shift’s here.’ His voice was cracked from all the hours of shouting orders. Billy nodded and began to gather his men, making sure they were all there. But they hadn’t marched more than a hundred yards before the earth seemed to give a groan. Everyone stopped, and for a moment the world seemed to go quiet, as if drawing a breath.
Then came the crashing of stone and concrete. Half the platforms vanished into the space below, down among the broken arches and a dust storm rose. Billy turned towards it.
‘Come on,’ he told the others as he ran. ‘Bloody come on.’
It was late afternoon by the time he arrived home. He stank of smoke; it was in his uniform, in his hair, on his skin. He’d been too tired even to wash off the soot and dirt. Inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, ready to drop.
‘Billy,’ Elizabeth said as she bustled out of the kitchen. She stopped, looking at him, then hugged him close. ‘Thank God. I’ve been worried sick all day. Are you hurt at all?’
Reed shook his head. He felt as if he couldn’t walk another step or say a single word.
She took down the tin bath and started to heat water, then washed his uniform, rinsing it three times before all the dirt disappeared.
At supper, the children were eager to hear about it. But what could he say, Billy wondered. It wasn’t exciting; he’d been as terrified as everyone else. He’d never forget the sound as the platforms gave way. Or the looks on the men’s faces when the word spread that a fireman had died. He glanced at Elizabeth, stuck for words.
‘Just leave it,’ she told them quietly. ‘You can see he’s dead on his feet.’
In bed, the last of the daylight outside, Reed closed his eyes. As soon as sleep came, he was back in the fire.
Harper stood in the superintendent’s office the next morning. His palms were bandaged and tender but they’d mend in a few days. Annabelle has fussed around him, putting on a lotion that burned before it soothed. He ached all over.
‘I need you to go down to have a look at that fire,’ Kendall told him. ‘Take Ash with you.’
‘I thought they’d put it out.’
‘They have. I want to make sure it wasn’t anarchists who caused it.’
The man was as immaculately turned out as ever, suit pressed, moustache and side whiskers trimmed, the crease in his trousers as sharp as a blade. But his face was lined with worry.
‘I thought they were all talk,’ Harper said.
‘They are,’ the superintendent replied. ‘But you know how it happens. All it needs is one hothead taking that “assault on the system” line of theirs to heart.’ He shook his head. ‘Stupid. Work with Dick Hill until he’s established a cause. Just in case.’
‘Yes, sir. I have that dead baby, too.’
‘I know. What have you found?’
‘Nothing.’ He paused, thinking of the tiny corpse on the table. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure if we ever will.’
‘Keep trying, anyway. Your hands, Tom …’
‘From the pumps yesterday.’ He held them up. ‘Blisters. They’ll heal soon enough.’
‘You’d think the criminals would have been running free, what with every officer down there,’ Kendall said. He took his pipe from his waistcoat pocket and lit it with a match. ‘But there was nothing reported.’ He arched his eyebrows. ‘Think about that. Not a single crime anywhere in Leeds.’
There was just enough of a breeze to bring a sense of freshness, the hint that autumn might arrive soon. Harper walked side by side with Ash, the constable quiet as they passed the Corn Exchange. Carts clattered quickly along Duncan Street. Piles of horse dung were flattened on the road. Men ran, pushing barrows piled with goods to deliver. A tram rolled by with the grinding sound of wheels in the iron tracks. The air smelt burnt and dead as they neared the station.
‘How did you like the inspection?’ Harper asked.
‘It was right enough, sir.’ He gave a small grin. ‘My missus thought I looked that smart all dressed up.’
‘Mine made me have a photograph taken wearing it.’
‘They must love the top hats, those women.’ He shook his head and tapped his old bowler. ‘Me, I’m more comfortable in this.’ He paused. ‘I heard one of the firemen died yesterday.’
The inspector nodded. ‘When the platforms collapsed. Nothing anyone could do. They couldn’t even get in to bring the body out.’
‘Sad business, sir.’
They’d become used to working as a team since Reed had left. They functioned well together, although there’d been little to tax them too hard. All the crimes they’d investigated in the last few months had been straightforward. Profit or passion, and a simple matter to find the culprit.
Harper doubted there’d be much for them here, either. He didn’t believe any anarchists were involved. The only problem would come if Hill said the fire was arson.
New Station was filled with rubble and wreckage. Thick dust clung to piles of bricks, and charred wood still smoked lightly. But passengers were already crowding the three undamaged platforms, craning their necks to see all the ruin, and most of the trains were still running. Harper shook his head in amazement; after all the destruction, he wouldn’t have believed it possible. Or safe.
They found Hill down among the arches that had once supported everything. All the surfaces were black with soot, the smell of fire and destruction heavy and cloying, and he started to cough. A yard or two below them, the River Aire rushed by.
‘Hello, Dick,’ Harper said. ‘We’ve been sent down to help.’
Inspector Hill looked haunted. He was still wearing the uniform he’d had on when the blaze began. There were rents along the seams, the blue so covered with dirt that it seemed to have no colour at all. Dark rings lined his eyes.
‘Tom,’ he answered and let out a sigh. ‘We just brought out that man who died. Schofield.’
‘One of yours?’
Hill shook his head. ‘He worked on one of the insurance company engines. The floor just gave way underneath him.’ He stared up at the sky. ‘Ten years and I’ve never seen anything like it. As best as we can guess, he must have crawled forty feet after he fell. Almost made it out, too, poor bugger. It’s a miracle there was only one, really.’
Ash broke the silence that grew around them. ‘Any idea where it started yet, sir?’
‘Oh, we know that.’ Hill pointed to an empty space, nothing left at all. ‘You see that? It used to be Soapy Joe’s warehouse. Packed full of tallow and resin. Tons of the bloody stuff. That’s where it began. And that’s why it burned so hard and long. Once that went up there wasn’t a chance.’
‘What caused it?’ Harper asked.
Hill shrugged. ‘A spark? An accident? Deliberate? There’s not enough left to tell. I wouldn’t even like to guess. The best I’m ever going to be able to say is that it happened. It’s nothing to worry CID, anyway.’
‘The superintendent wondered about anarchists.’
‘I don’t see it.’ He shook his head wearily. ‘Honestly, Tom, I don’t. I’m going to dig around but I don’t think I’ll find any evidence of anything.’
‘You should get some sleep, Dick.’
‘Later.’ Hill brushed the idea away. ‘I need to take care of a few things first. We’ve never had anything as bad as this before in Leeds.’ He waved a hand at the damage. ‘Look at it. It’s going to cost a fortune to rebuild. But the railway’s already had engineers out this morning. Can you believe that?’
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‘They want to be making money again,’ Harper said.
‘Sir! Sir!’ The shout echoed off the stone, making them all turn. A fireman was picking his way through the mounds of stone and brick. ‘There’s another body down here. It looks like a woman.’
THREE
They ran, scraping their way over the debris. Dust rose around them as they scrambled.
‘Over here,’ the man called. He was standing by a pile of rubble. ‘You can just see her foot over there.’
They gazed. Half a button boot, the leather torn clean away to show bloody flesh. The rest of her was buried under chunks of concrete.
‘Must have collapsed right on top of her,’ Hill said grimly, taking off his uniform jacket. ‘Let’s get this shifted.’
Ash glanced at Harper’s bandaged hands.
‘Will you be all right, sir?’
‘I’ll manage,’ the inspector told him as he stared at the foot.
It took them a quarter of an hour to move everything, sweating and grunting. Blood seeped through Harper’s bandages. He grimaced and worked on.
‘Christ,’ Hill said quietly.
Most of her clothes had burned away. Her hair was gone. She was part-flesh, burned and black. But it was the rest of her that made them draw in their breath. Patches of metal across her body that glinted in the light. Skin like silver: the thought came into his head.
‘What?’ At first he didn’t even realize he’d spoken.
‘Must have been the girders,’ Hill said. He couldn’t take his eyes off the body. ‘They melted in the heat and the metal dripped down on her.’ He wiped a hand across his mouth. ‘I just hope to God she was already dead.’
Harper took a deep breath and squatted, moving this way and that around the corpse. Only the shape and size of the body and the torn button boot showed she’d once been female. Now … he could scarcely believe what he saw. Two dark, burned holes where her eyes had once been. The smell of her, like charred meat. The glittering metal. Dear God, it was grotesque. A statue of death. He shuddered as he stood again.
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