The Fire Man by Iain Adams Read Free Book Online

eh?’ he remarked.
    â€˜Yeah, might have been useful.’ He peered at his watch. ‘Anyway, if you can tell Spiros that we’re leaving for the evening, I’ll bring the car up and we can get off,’ suggested McRae. ‘Oh, and maybe it would be just as well to tell him we’ll be back tomorrow, eh?’
    â€˜Oh great,’ sighed Cairns. ‘Just what I need – a deluded optimist.’
    * * *
    It was a little after 6.30pm when the Audi pulled onto the forecourt of The Fountain pub. A bit rundown, but that was the way Grim liked his pubs. All that mattered to him was an ostentatious absence of pretension and the quality of the ale. They had driven well out of their way in order to satisfy Grim’s arcane requirements. It had turned out he hadn’t visited The Fountain before and he wanted to see whether it lived up to its reputation in the CAMRA Guide as a true drinkers’ pub.
    Hardly likely to get a decent glass of wine in here
, thought McRae as he gazed around the unashamedly brutal interior of the public bar. He eventually settled on a bottle of Stella Artois for safety, while his expert colleague debated whether or not to select the Wadworth 6X or the Hook Norton. Finally, nursing their respective drinks, accessorised with packets of dry roasted nuts, the men chose a heavy teak-topped, cast iron table in the corner of the snug. The filthy overflowing ashtray reminded them both that within a few short months the new fascist-inspired no smoking laws would be coming into force. In the meantime, however, they were overdue a smoke and like the condemned men they were, they duly lit up.
    â€˜So, any thoughts?’ opened McRae.
    â€˜Plenty, but none of them good,’ responded Grim. ‘My main worry is obvious. We should have got back to CFG this afternoon and warned them of the scale of the loss – not just sailed on regardless. If they chuck us off the job now, we’ve wasted a day and they’ll never touch us again!’
    McRae gave a deep sigh. He knew only too well the risk they were running. From the moment they had stepped through Hellenic’s doors, he had been debating with himself how best to manage their client insurer’s expectations.
    Over the next ten minutes he outlined his thinking to Grim, before eventually summarising his conclusion. His view was that if they were able to go back to CFG the following morning with a well-thought-out and thorough report, and with a solid reserve that covered every base, there was at least a chance CFG would leave them to complete the handling of the case. God only knew, he hoped so.
    Grim, while patently continuing to harbour his own doubts, decided there was nothing to be gained from further debate. He gazed morosely at the shiny, shabby, gum-encrusted Wilton carpet through the base of his quickly emptied glass and finally spoke. ‘Refill?’
    Returning from the bar with the replenished glasses, the adjusters turned to considering the detail of the case. In particular: the cause.
    Both agreed the fire had, without doubt, been deliberate. The senior fire officer, with whom Grim had been in a huddle in the canteen had confirmed as much, although the brigade’s own enquiries were continuing. Interestingly, the fire brigade had been called to a number of small deliberate fires in other units throughout the estate over the last few months, which they had attributed to some local yobbo’s idea of recreation. This fire had been different, though, both in terms of the apparent sophistication and the scale of the damage.
    â€˜Did you spot that broken panel in the right-hand loading bay door?’ asked McRae.
    â€˜Yeah, course, got a couple of pictures of it, too’ came the response. ‘Place reeked as well, didn’t it? Couldn’t make out whether it was petrol or diesel but it had an oily smell, I thought. Didn’t spot any obvious container though.’
    â€˜No,’