Liar Liar

85

Adam Latham stood in front of the blaze, trying to stem the fierce anger rising inside him. Ever since his crew had arrived on the scene – their third fire of the night – they had been on the receiving end of catcalls and abuse. A knot of young lads hung on the cordon, swearing at them and accusing them of being killers, firestarters and more besides. A plastic bottle had been thrown at one of his officers, at which point the police had finally done their job, dragging the offender away for a night in the cells. But in general the boys in blue had done nothing to protect his team. No doubt they were in thrall to DI Grace, believing every ugly lie that came out of her mouth.

Every instinct was urging him to charge over to those scrawny kids and teach them a lesson they’d never forget. But he wasn’t an excitable rookie any more, he was Southampton’s Chief Fire Officer, which meant that though it stuck in his craw, he had to suck it up for now. They had more urgent priorities as the imposing house in Lower Shirley continued to rage, but he made a private vow to himself that if any of his officers were harmed or hampered in fulfilling their duties tonight, he would have Grace’s head on his wall before the month was out.

‘What shall we do, boss?’

Simon Cannon, the team captain, hurried up to him. His face was smeared with dirt and riven with tension.

‘Have we had any joy reaching the parents?’

Cannon shook his head.

‘Their car’s not here and Mrs Harris’s PA confirmed that she and her husband have gone out to dinner tonight. But we’ve got no way of knowing if they’ve got their son with them or not.’

‘How mobile is he? Could he get out himself? Call for help?’

‘Hard to say. He’s epileptic and has some physical disabilities according to the neighbours. He can get around, but he might have been asleep when this started. Even if he was awake, the stress of the situation might get to him and…’

‘Jesus Christ.’

Adam Latham had recurring nightmares about moments like these. He had faced enough of them over the years but they still haunted him – those moments when you had to make the big calls, when innocent lives were at stake and it was down to you to decide which way to jump. His team had already been in the building for upwards of ten minutes and it was touch and go as to how much longer the structure would hold. The fire appeared to have started in the basement and ripped through the old terraced house – it was a very real risk that the flooring would collapse, sending four officers to their deaths. He couldn’t have that on his conscience, but if they pulled out too early and allowed a disabled boy to die in the conflagration, they’d be slaughtered. And rightly so.

‘What are the boys saying? What’s it like in there?’

His deputy pulled a face.

‘They’re getting barbecued. They’ve got three or four minutes at best.’

Cannon paused and looked at his boss. Latham looked at him, then up at the house, before saying:

‘Give them two more minutes. If they haven’t found the boy by then, tell them to pull out.’

Cannon was immediately on his radio, as he hurried back towards the house. Adam Latham watched him go, hoping and praying that he’d just made the right call – and that he’d be able to live with the consequences.