The Circle

11

Around four on the following Saturday morning most of Chichester was asleep. The late people had given up and gone home and the early people weren't yet ready to go out. The occasional drone of a heavy vehicle came from the bypass, the A27, and that was all.

In the fire station on the traffic island at Churchside, north of the town, four of the team on night duty were playing poker. A black and white film was running on the TV with the sound turned down. The other firemen were trying to get some sleep. They were dressed for action. Their response time was excellent in an emergency, but they didn't often get the chance to prove it.

In the shadow of a narrow alley close to the town centre (central enough to feature on Anton's computer) waited the solitary figure who would give the firemen a night to remember. No one else seemed to be about, but if some early riser had come by at this time he would almost certainly have walked past the alley without seeing anything. The fire-raiser was dressed in dark clothes. The plastic bag was black. It was from Waterstone's bookshop. It didn't contain books.

The saying goes: if it works, don't fix it. The method had been used before, with success. A few quick steps to the front door. The letter-flap opened with a gloved hand and the piece of hose inserted. The trickle of fuel as it formed a pool on the floor inside. The hose withdrawn. The oily rags pushed through. The last rag ignited with a struck match and dropped through.

No one was in the street when the arsonist arrived, or left. No neighbour was watching. Even if some sleepless person had looked out of a window opposite, there was not a lot to see for some time. The pink glow inside the house could have been an electric light. If there was a smoke alarm it didn't work. The fire took hold with devastating effect, rapidly finding the stairwell. The flames leapt up, creating a backdraught. You couldn't have designed a more efficient incinerator.

It was later estimated that the fire raged for up to fifty minutes before a milkman on his way to work saw smoke and sparks ripping through the roof and raised the alarm.

The fire team responded with admirable speed once they got the shout. Three fire appliances attended. An attempt was made to gain entry through a bedroom window, but the floor had collapsed. The entire contents of the room, bed, wardrobe, dressing table and chair, had dropped to ground level and been turned to ashes.

Chichester had not seen so devastating a house fire in anyone's memory.