The Glass Inferno

CHAPTER 26

It was odd, Mario Infantino thought, how an evening that had started out so well could turn bad so quickly.

The snow was coming down thick enough now that the headlights of other cars were mere fuzzy splotches in the darkness. He could sense by the way the tires lost traction repeatedly that street conditions were bad and getting worse. He ran a red light, then pulled into his reserved space marked “Division Chief” in the lot behind the firehouse and threw his Camaro into park. He yanked the keys from the ignition, tumbled out, and slammed the door behind him. He was halfway across the lot when Chief . Engineer Fuchs’s official car pulled into the lot alongside his own, its red light flashing. He doubled back and ran toward it.

Fuchs rolled down the window and yelled at him. “It’s a hot one, Infantino-made to order for you.”

“Dispatch said it was the Glass House. How bad?”

“The whole seventeenth floor and probably the eighteenth by now.”

The snow had started to sift down Infantino’s neck and he shivered. “I should be there. That’s my district. I should’ve been notified a long time ago.”

“The fire was called in; the beat sensor hookup didn’t work.”

Fuchs spat out the window. “Modern technology, Infantino-it works great when it works and God help you when it doesn’t. Incidentally, when you get there, you’re in charge-the entire operation.”

Infantino stared. “It’s customary for the chief engineer to be in charge of an operation this size.”

“That’s right, and I’ll be right behind you.” There was a hint of malice in his voice that Infantino picked up immediately.

“Chief, we don’t have much time. You better tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Fair enough.” Fuchs got out of his car, pulled his coat up around his ears, and motioned Infantino over to the side of the building. It was cold enough now so his breath came out in little puffs of vapor.

“I want you there for two reasons, Infantino. First and most important, you’re the only man I’ve got who’s a self-trained expert on this type of fire. I would be doing the department an injustice if I took over when I thought there was a man better equipped to handle it than I am.” His voice turned acid. “You might say I’ll be there to learn. I’ll learn if you can do it and I’ll learn if you can’t.

You’ve been sounding off on how high-rise fires should be fought.

All right, mister, here’s your chance to show me.”

“You think I’ve been trying to embarrass you and the department?”

Fuchs salt-and-pepper mustache bristled with fury.

“I’ve seen all of Quantrell’s broadcasts; neither I nor the department come out with very high marks. I don’t give a damn what’s said about me but the department’s something else again. It’s one of the finest in the country; I’ve spent my life with it and I’ve been pallbearer for half the men who started with me as rookies. That television son of a bitch didn’t know any of them; he doesn’t know how they died and he doesn’t care. As far as he’s concerned, the department is behind the times, sloppy and possibly corrupt. And a lot of his information had to come from you.”

Infantino was red-faced. “That’s a goddamn lie! He pumped me and I walked right into it. So I wasn’t too bright, what should I have done-shut up so he could accuse you of muzzling me? What the hell motive would I have for undercutting you?”

Fuchs’s face was very close to his own, the fog from his breath a small cloud between them. “If I thought you were without personal ambition, Infantino, I would distrust you even more than I do now.”

Infantino controlled himself with effort. “What do you want me to do?”

“I told you-run the fire-fighting operations at the Glass House.”

“In the hopes that I’ll make a mistake?”

The little red veins pulsed in Fuchs’s forehead.”

“if you’re half as good as you think you are, then I’m doing the right thing. If you’re not, there are boards of inquiry and it won’t be my decision alone.

But I won’t deny that I’d be glad to have you out,of my hair.”

“I’ve never complained about the men or the department; it’s the lack of modern equipment.”

Fuchs nodded wearily. “I know your argument, I’ve heard it enough times. But no matter what equipment you’ve got, in the last analysis it’s men who fight fires.

And a fire is like a cancer-sometimes it takes very little to cure it and other times it’s terminal, no matter what you do or what equipment you’ve got.”

“I’ll need your cooperation.”

“You’ll get it.”

“Dispatch said four companies are there now. I’ll probably want more men.”

“We can recall companies as you need them. But I don’t want to strip the rest of the city unless I have to.”

“Have we got fire sketches on the building?”

Fuchs -hesitated. “No,” he said slowly. “A team was going over to make them at the end of the month.”

“But it’s been open for occupancy for three!”

Fuchs exploded. “You expect everybody to see your problems, but you don’t want to see mine, Infantino! You think every snot-nosed kid wants to GROW Up to be a fireman? I’ve got news for you, friend-we rank far behind the Police Department and they’re not exactly overwhelmed with applicants! Damned few people are volunteering for an opportunity to get their brains fried out-not at the salaries and widows’ pensions we pay! I could have all the fancy equipment in the world, and it would just sit there and gather dust because I don’t have the men to man it! You’ve got to have men on the hose, you’ve got to have men driving the pumpers and the ladder trucks, you’ve got to have men to go in with pulldown hooks and hatchets! Men, that’s what you fight fires with!

And we don’t have goddamned near enough! We don’t have the fire sketches because I couldn’t spare the men to send over there. Do you understand?” He paused, shaking with anger. “Most of this city is residential, that’s where most of our fires occur. That’s where most people die. I’ve concentrated on equipment to fight that kind of fire and it’s cost me blood. Sure, I can get money for equipment to fight the big ones-then put it in storage for the rest of the year. But what about salaries? What about more men? What about equipment designed to fight the little fires? Your big banks and industrial firms, they won’t come up with the money for that!”

They glared at each other for a moment, the snow falling quietly between them. “There’s a difference between .1 a house and a high rise,” Infantino said bitterly. “It’s a factor of ten, maybe a hundred, in the number of possible deaths. They don’t have to happen every month, even once would be enough.”

“I’m not without sympathy for your views,” Fuchs spit out. “I resent that you seem to be without any understanding of mine.”

“We’re talking -while the Glass House burns,” Infantino said quietly.

“Can we get the blueprints from the Department of Building and Safety?

Or if they don’t have them, from the insurance company of National Curtainwall itself?”

Fuchs nodded, his anger spent. “I’ll have it checked.

Anything else?”

“We’ll be sending men into tight, sealed rooms and compartments-we’ll need all the respiratory equipment we can get.”

“I’ve already taken care of that.” Fuchs turned to go back to his car, his aging shoulders bent against the wind.

“I’m not through!” Infantino shouted.

Fuchs turned. “You’ve got everything in the city now.”

“In this city, yes. I think we ought to contact the department in Southport. They’ve got new, high-capacity respirators and a hundred-foot tower can throw water to the thirteenth floor.

I’ll put them on the alert, but I’m not going to ask for help at this stage of the game. I doubt we’ll need more equipment; I think we can handle our own dirty work.”

Infantino nodded. He could understand Fuchs’s reluctance to borrow equipment before he absolutely had to.

“Thanks a lot, Chief-you’ve given me everything I’ll need.”

“You think so?” Fuchs said dryly. “I haven’t wished you good luck and I haven’t offered any prayers for you -and you need them both at any fire.” He turned to walk back to his car. “Can I offer you a lift?”

“No thanks,” Infantino said shortly. He hurried into the firehouse, nodding to the house watchman in his tiny booth near the front of the apparatus floor. The four companies that used the firehouse as division headquarters were gone and, except for the house watchman, the station was deserted. A skillet with a dozen half-cooked pork chops was on the back BURNER of the stove in the kitchen, the chops already jelling in their own grease. Scraps of lettuce were scattered over a cutting board.

It took him only a few minutes to slip out of his pants and coat and pull on boots and a turnout suit, fumbling to clip the coat rings tight.

He grabbed up a pair of gloves and his high-impact helmet and ran out into the garage to his service car. He fastened his safety belt and flicked on the ignition and the two-way radio.

The car was immediately flooded with crackling conversations. He listened for a moment, then roared out of the garage, his siren wailing.

The Glass House was going up much faster than he had thought possible. The weather was partly to blame; the difference in temperature between the air outside the building and the air inside was creating a stack effect.

Cold air was heavier and tended to flow into the building through the doors and the numerous small holes and cracks in the Curtainwall, then rise like smoke up a chimney.

At the moment, he thought, the Glass House was the tallest chimney in the city.