The dry spell continued. A new week began. Aerial photography recorded the extent of desolation. Observed from altitude, fire had stained black an enormous fan-shaped area from Loch Shiel in the northwest to Strontian in the southeast. It was also evident that since the firebreak had confined the fire to north of the Strontian/Polloch road there were no outreaches of forest sufficiently near Strontian to pose a threat. The fire was effectively going nowhere. It would pass north of the village and eventually exhaust itself in a mountain waste to the east, a trackless region seldom explored, even by solitude seekers.
Rattray, continuing in temporary command at the Strontian area, gave a status report to Head Office on Monday morning by way of a conference call to Assistant Director, Legal Blair, Health and Safety, Insurances and Press Liaison, and an assortment of lesser departmental heads. Communication began with Assistant Director introducing Rattray to those present. He did so with due gravitas.
Rattray listened patiently to the grunts of “morning, Rattray” follow each other around the conference table before responding with, “let me begin by confirming that the fire is now going nowhere.” He paused. There was a brief silence. “We intend to shepherd the wildfire into wilderness where it will die out. The Fire Chief has studied the ground and advised me that we need only protect properties at the northern boundary of Strontian. As I said, this fire is going nowhere.”
“Of course it’s going SOMEWHERE,” Assistant Director chose to react sharply to Rattray’s level appraisal. He smacked his palm noisily against the shiny armrest of his chair. “We should be doing everything we can to put it out.” His gaze ran over the managerial beef and was rewarded with a vigorous display of assent. “We have a duty towards the local residents, do not forget.”
All eyes focused on the phone propped on the table. It sat speechlessly. Assistant Director turned to his long-legged favourite, perhaps his successor at some distant date.
“We do have a clear duty to the locals, am I right?”
“Our Charter is, of course, always to be read in terms of our obligations, a duty of care being fundamental,” Legal Blair added unctuously. Heads nodded, accompanied by murmurs of ‘indeed’ or ‘absolutely’.
“Quite so,” Assistant Director said. “We must be seen to be fighting this fire. Whether it extinguishes itself or is extinguished by us is irrelevant. The Commission must be credited with putting it out – in memory of all those who died, of course. Just to allow this fire to burn out unhindered in full public view is unthinkable, utterly unthinkable.”
“Forgive my interruption, Assistant Director,” Press Liaison grasped the opportunity to contribute, “ but we are under close scrutiny by the media. Their reporting apparent inactivity on our part could also be disastrous in terms of a public relations perspective, going forward.”
“I trust that you heard all that, Rattray,” Assistant Director said, staring at the mobile phone on the tabletop and tapping a pen against its surface. “I trust you are taking it on board.”
Rattray drew a deep breath before continuing. “We are already working to create another firebreak north and east of Strontian. Every firefighting resource is being committed to that effort. Any change in wind direction can only assist us. Rain would be ideal, but weathermen are refusing to forecast a change to this prolonged dry spell. The rest of the frontage of this fire, why bother with it? It will die out halfway up a local mountain that nobody ever visits.”
“You don’t quite see the big picture, Rattray, do you?” Assistant Director spoke deliberately. “We cannot permit a perception that we have stopped fighting this fire. We have lost God knows how many thousand hectares of prime woodland. Then there is the people. How many died? Killed, I should say. We must be seen to be fighting. I want regular aircraft drops of retardant. Make sure these are filmed.”
“The fire is moving downhill, so is travelling more slowly,” Rattray said. “If the weather remains unchanged, as forecast, we’ll get to grips with it in three days. We’ve told the Daily News already. They have a couple of people still covering events here.”
“Yes, yes,” Assistant Director waved his hand impatiently, “their editor is in constant touch with me. But you will be seen to be tackling it now, not two or three days from now. Is that clear?”
“Just as you like, Assistant Director. I will put on a good show for you,” Rattray said, stressing ‘good’ with such apparent enthusiasm that no-one dared an audible intake of breath at the sarcasm. He continued, his voice striking a very respectful note. “And that helicopter, Assistant Director? It may have been a Daily News photographer that overflew the farm. At the time they were the only major paper covering the fire.”
“Jury is still out on any helicopter involvement,” Legal Blair interposed. “We mustn’t leap to conclusions.”
“There is considerable anger here,” Rattray’s voice was calm. “The men who survived are talking to police. They saw a cameraman filming. My own account of what happened is entirely second-hand.”
“It may have been someone free-lancing, an entrepreneurial photoshoot. It was a chartered flight. Best to leave it with us. There must be no let-up on the firefighting effort, remember, that is paramount. Oh, and Rattray, keep me informed…on a daily basis.”
There was no immediate reply, and the hiatus ended with the Assistant Director’s impatient, “Well Rattray, is there anything else?”
“Well, yes, there is,” Rattray said. “Can you advise me about our support for the bereaved families? Of the Commission arrangements being made? Communities in and around Kingussie are in shock and will, as a matter of course, look to our caring establishment for more than expressions of sympathy. A town councillor is gone. The shinty team have had three of their players killed. A church elder is dead.”
A long silence, then Assistant Director spoke with a summoned firmness, “We are dealing with this.”
“The bodies are being identified,” Rattray was relentless, “and will soon be released to the families.”
“We are dealing with it, Rattray, as I said.”
There was no reply from the ‘speaker’ and necks shifted uncomfortably in their collars. Yellow polka-dot ties were fingered. Assistant Director looked severely at the phone sitting on the highly polished table. When its extended silence became uncomfortable, Assistant Director snapped, “Very well, Rattray, keep me informed of your continued major, I stress major, fire fighting effort.”
Assistant Director closed the conference call and addressed the room. “You all heard him. Get on to the funeral directors. Contact relatives, friends, local councillors, everyone, and I mean everyone, concerned. Nothing has yet been done, am I correct? We value our reputation as a caring establishment. There should be routines in place for occasions such as this, when our people die in harness. Report to Blair here what you are doing about the Kingussie men and formalise a procedure for deepest sympathies, condolences, whatever. Get on it now.”
There was a shuffle of chairs retreating on the carpeted floor as he waved an end to the meeting and a curt dismissal of the departmental chiefs who hurriedly dispersed. Assistant Director remained in the conference room, uneasily aware of the self-absorption of all departments in a bureaucratic system. Departments co-existed like segments of an orange, held together by a tough outer skin without properly integrating. Perhaps the time had come to insure against bad publicity. He lifted a desk phone and asked to be put through to the Daily News.
“Good morning, Editor,” he said, a smile at the back of his throat not lost on the Machiavellian ‘Nic’, “it would appear that we have a problem.”
“Problem?” Nic bent with phone in hand to pick up a pencil on the floor at his feet. “What would that be, Assistant Director?”
“A chartered helicopter overflew the farmhouse where our people were trapped. The survivors appear to believe that downwash from its rotors spread the fire that trapped those men who died, or so they are reporting. We understand that you chartered the helicopter in order to gratify your readership with some aerial photography.”
“This sounds highly speculative…shocking of course,” Daily News said, timing a pause for shock by tapping the pencil lightly on his desktop.
Assistant Director pursued further, “It will come out at the fatal accident enquiry. There will, of course, be an attempt at criticism of Commission safety procedures and so on, de rigueur in such circumstances, I’m sorry to say. Indeed, rash statements have already been made to that effect.”
“I will have to look into this business of a helicopter at the farm,” Daily News sounded perturbed as he manipulated the pencil over and under his knuckles, “I doubt that it was chartered by ourselves, more likely to have been a freelance. Everybody knows that we are in the market for topical photographs, like every other news outlet. And the matter of arson being at the root of all this – it’s terrible, just terrible. We headlined it last week, but no arrests have been made just yet. I have staff reporters all over the story. We do think it was a disgruntled Commission employee that struck the match. It was arson for sure, this forest fire that started in the middle of the night.”
“That is also highly speculative, surely,” Assistant Director gestured to an empty conference room.
“These are strong grounds, strong grounds, perhaps too circumstantial at present to be evidential,” Daily News said carefully, examining the eraser at the butt of the pencil, “but very persuasive. Can we maybe get together to discuss the broader issues here?”
Assistant Director looked upwards towards a plastic chandelier that tried unsuccessfully to give the elongated room a distinguished style. “If you think that would be helpful, then of course,” he smirked at the ceiling.
Nic allowed himself a smile but made sure that his voice gave no hint of amusement when he said thoughtfully, “We have a large readership under our control. Only what the Daily News reports is authentic so far as they are concerned, and our length of reporting any matter is their measure of the importance of our news. I would say that we have a weighty effect on public opinion.”
“I have little doubt of it,” Assistant Director said dryly.
“I will look into this helicopter charter as a matter of urgency. I don’t find speculation useful on such issues. A responsible approach is needed here. I can guarantee that,” Nic played the pencil over and under the fingers of his free hand.
“Oh, quite,” Assistant Director commented, maintaining a mature dryness of tone. “You have been kind enough to keep me informed of events. The information I have given you this morning is completely confidential, by way of a quid pro quo.”
“Appreciated,” Daily News responded evenly, “much appreciated.”