From a rocky scarp that overlooked an immense forest area stretching northward Rattray used binoculars to view the vista before and below him. Mackinnon and the Fire Chief were also sweeping the landscape with heavy field glasses. Seen from afar, a great arc blazed in silence. The terrain behind was hidden in a thick haze of smoke.
“Well, Chief,” Rattray lowered his glasses, “what do you make of it?”
The Fire Chief looked thoughtfully at the forester and slid his binoculars into a leather case hanging down his chest.
“Weather being unchanged, we have two days grace,” the Fire Chief said. “The village is in no danger at all. The fire will burn itself out on our new firebreak, well clear of the nearest housing. While it’s in thick forest, as it is now, we cannot get near – unless we try aerial bombing with retardant which would be a total waste of time. Oxygen will get quickly used up in that density of woodland, and heavy woodsmoke carries a lot of gases so the rate of burn will be uneven. Any further work we do is posturing.”
“We are not to be seen to be letting up,” Rattray said, “and that’s how we will play it. Plenty of huffing and puffing at no risk to anyone. I will give Head Office regular bulletins full of shyly understated bravery. Bullshit from the fighting front. Make them look like leaders of a pride of lions. What do you think, Mac?”
“The men will think we are crazy, eh?” Mackinnon shrugged, “but why not – if that’s what the public schoolboys want.”
“We will write the Commission into legend. These buggers back in HQ will be handing out press releases like fliers for takeaway pizzas. Daily News is in constant touch, apparently.”
“Are you being serious?” the Fire Chief was suddenly intrigued.
“We’re supposed to give Head Office what it wants. To help things along let’s get Baby-face to spread the gospel. He’s still hanging around and the lad is a professional writer of bullshit. Might as well use his talents. That goes for his photographer, too.”
“Why the hell not,” the Fire Chief slapped his thigh. “My boys do drama very nicely.”
“There should be plenty opportunities for action shots,” Mackinnon said. “And if there aren’t, we can coax a few into life.”
Rattray lifted his binoculars, again scanning the forest while listening to the Fire Chief, quickly caught up in the ploy. “Helmets and axes. I’ll get my lads to turn out in full battledress. Make it dramatic. We’ll give them spectacle, no problem whatever. I’ll smother the two Daily Newshounds in protective gear. They can photograph each other. Newsmen risking all to bring the firefight to the nation’s breakfast bowl of porridge,” the Fire Chief laughed.
“Hang on, though,” Mackinnon restrained him, “we could have problems if we don’t do this tastefully. You could see this as a memorial to the men who died at that farm.”
“We’ll do this properly, don’t worry,” Rattray refocused the binoculars. “Let’s find Baby-face and tell him he is to embed. He will enjoy that, it has a sexy ring to it. We will call this ‘special access’, Mac, eh?”
“Just remember that Baby-face is pursuing an arsonist. The bugger bears watching,” Mackinnon reminded. “He will be asking questions, staying on in the hope of another big story, not only coverage of the fire.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” Rattray said. “So we’ll keep him busy and therefore under control. He’s not going to turn down another chance to bullshit his way into the national news. Ok, let’s do it. Assistant Director wants good press. We’ll make sure he gets it.”
A final lingering look at the trembling red arc trailing distant smoke into a grey-black overcast, then the three began to scramble down a heathery slope to the Commission vehicle parked far below.
Rattray put the landrover into first gear. “What the hell,” he said, “it’s all about perception. Our bosses will receive thanks from a grateful nation.” His chin lifted, “ I never realised until now what a bunch of self seeking, uncaring bastards our hierarchy really are, every one of them angling for promotion and his CB.”
“Cunning Bastards,” the Fire Chief commented. “Official recognition.”
“Actually, it wouldn’t be a CB, it would be a CBE,” Mackinnon said.
“Cunning Bastards’ Elite,” the Fire Chief suggested.