Fire Safety
copyright © Don Taco 2025
Marcia woke to an insistent pounding on the front door. A glance at the clock showed 6:20, almost time to rise in any case. She shook Dan awake. "What the hell?" he asked. Stumbling out of bed and into his robe, he strode to the entry hall and looked out of the elaborate side window panel, Marcia right behind him. Outside were three firemen in their battle uniforms, all geared up for trouble. He opened the door. "Sorry, sir, but your neighbor's house is on fire. We're not likely to save it. We need to evacuate you to a safe distance. We're working to prevent the fire from spreading to your building." As he explained this, Dan and Marcia backed away from the door, and the other two firemen slid in past them. One tersely queried, "Any children? Any pets?" When Dan answered, "No," the Chief continued, "Let's collect your important papers. We have just enough time. Do you have a safe?" Dan answered, "Just a lockbox. Mortgages, Social Security cards, marriage certificate, wills, it's all in there." "Perfect," said the Chief. "Let's grab it and get you to safety." Turning to his men, he ordered, "Double-check the rooms and close all the windows and entrances. Start on the south side where the flames are. Find the main panel box and kill the power." Dan said, "On the south wall in the basement." The men rushed off. "Let's get that lockbox." As he followed Dan deeper into the mansion, he turned to Marcia and told her, "Go grab sweaters and comfortable shoes, but be quick. Meet us at the front door." She headed back to the bedroom. In his study, Dan opened the bottom desk drawer and retrieved the lockbox. He grabbed their framed wedding picture off the desk and turned to follow the Chief. They met Marcia at the door, her arms full of hastily collected clothing. Passing outside, the Chief firmly closed the door and led them down the walkway. In the street they could see a water tanker, and two men struggling to control a hose as they sprayed the south side of the mansion. Flames were dancing behind the huge plate glass window of the place next door. Dan told the Chief, "It's empty. They've been trying to sell it all year." "Excellent!," responded the Chief. "No loss of life." Neighbors were just beginning to come out from some of the other nearby houses, mostly appearing to be lacking the acuity that the morning coffee provides. As the Chief ushered the couple up the sidewalk to the shade of a large old elm, sirens split the air and more fire trucks barreled into the street. Firemen exploded into action, like clowns at the circus, but with an organized urgency that spoke of years of practice, and minus the red noses. Hoses were hooked to hydrants. Axes were put through doors. Thick black smoke billowed from the open door and the now broken window. "Stay right here", the Chief told Marcia and Dan. "You should be safe. I'm going to join my men and finish up inside." He strode purposefully back to the house and disappeared into it.
Striding up to the two men in the vast living room, he asked, "Any trouble with the alarm?" "Nope." was the answer. "it was right next to the electric panel and we cut the battery wires. So far no noise." They continued prying at the frame of the modest Manet on the wall over the ornate fireplace. It came loose, and a few more wires were snipped. Slipping the painting into a large black plastic trash bag, they headed to the rear of the house, out the back door, across the yard, out the gate, and into the back of a generic white tradesman's van waiting there. In minutes they were on the highway headed south. Half an hour later, having stripped off their uniforms and other gear, they pulled the rental van into a rest area, casually locked the keys inside, went to the restroom, and returned, not to the van but to another nondescript rental car that was waiting there, and headed north.
The fire department didn't take long to control the blaze, as it was still limited to the front room and its furnishings when they arrived. They were puzzled by the neighbors asking permission to return home, saying they had never been in actual danger. All hell broke loose very shortly after that, when the Manet was discovered missing. The two men with the water truck were arrested and thoroughly investigated, but they had been hired on-line through a temp agency, and had no idea who hired them, why, or even exactly what they were doing. They were just glad to get the work. There was no sign of any other firemen. Thir descriptions were useless... "Guys in firemen suits with cop moustaches." Later investigation showed the source of the blaze to be a timed incediary device hidden in a living room couch. Dozens of anonymous people had toured the property in the previous weeks. Any of them could have planted it. The visitors easiest to identify were the least likely to be the culprit.
Very famous works by very famous painters who have been dead for hundreds of years tend to hang in museums, and their whereabouts monitored. Ownership is an exclusive club, and the memebrship is closed. One doesn't just show up for sale. But there are unscrupulous collectors, with an eye to the long game, who have the money to be private and stay private. The more time passed, the surer the authorities were that the Manet was not going to surface.
The mansion next door was insured, and the Manet was very well insured. Dan himself was subject to an investigation, but his finances were unscrupulosly aboveboard, and those suspicions appeared unfounded. The insurance company took a bath. Premiums rose for thousands and thousands of people who don't own a Manet or a mansion.
Dan never contacted the collector again after his initial proposal of the plan. The collector had a Manet for the cost of the operation, and the salaries of a few trusted middlemen. Dan had a clean record and a tidy profit from the insurance. Marcia never knew.
No comments:
Post a Comment