state senator?”
“I know who Stevenson is.”
“We’re going to see if we can’t get a statewide task force on arson fires moving along in the right direction.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Reese walked to the window, a world-weary act Finney had seen before, an affectation of thoughtfulness and calm, a commander at the helm of his ship. As a young officer, Reese had been mocked for it, mimics duplicating it within days of each new assignment, the wake of his career strewn with uniformed clowns who could ape him perfectly. Finney had always thought the mockery was a little sophomoric, akin to making fun of the teacher when his back was turned, but now he could picture himself mimicking Reese’s self-important pose.
“Am I going to get this job?” Finney asked.
Without turning around, Reese peered at Finney over his shoulder. “You know how long I’m going to be chief?”
“Am I going to get the job?”
“Until they pry my cold fingers off that desk. Meanwhile I’m going to build an officer corps the likes of which this department’s never seen. John, I want you to hear this from me. I figure I owe you that much. I’m not going to promote you.”
Even though he’d seen it coming, Finney felt as if he’d been hit in the chest. Surely this little pissant who could barely cut the mustard in drill school, who’d been promoted at the tail end of each list, who’d been despised by each of his crews, wasn’t going to sink Finney’s career over one fire? Or because of his father.
He tried to concentrate, vaguely aware that Reese was talking, though the words came to his ears as if through water.
“. . . and it wasn’t until I got a few years under my belt and gained some experience that I was able to appreciate what a power-mad, incompetent jackass your old man really was. . . . After what happened I know a lot of people still believe you’re a good firefighter, but for the time being I think, rather than giving orders, you should learn how to take them. You study for the next test two years from now. Meanwhile I’m going to keep you at Twenty-six’s. That should help settle you down.”
“I deserve this promotion and you know it.”
Reese walked over to the office door and dropped his hand onto the knob. “I can’t promote a man who would abandon his partner and then sabotage the efforts of the rescue team.”
“Abandon? What the hell are you talking about? I went for help. And just how did I sabotage the rescue team? I did everything but take your hand and lead you down that corridor. In fact, I offered to do just that.”
“You were in a blind panic,” Reese said quietly. “I almost lost my life because of you.”
Finney stared into Reese’s unwavering dark eyes. He’d never seen a man more sure of himself.
“You’re making a mistake,” Finney said. “I’m a good firefighter and I’d be a good officer.”
“There are two of us in this room, John. One of us has a citation on the wall. The other has a dead partner. Think about it.”
13. SICK CHICKENS WITH MATCHES
The rig was out when Finney got back to Station 26, and for a few crazy minutes he considered emptying his locker and leaving his resignation scrawled on a roll of toilet paper the way one contemptuous old-timer had done years before. There were several actions he could take. He still had a vague hankering to go back to school, get a degree, and teach high school history. He’d worked for a commercial painting outfit and he’d always liked the smell of paint and the routine of good honest labor every day. The fire department wasn’t the air in his lungs or the blood in his veins. Then again, nothing would destroy his father quicker than to see him quit. And as he thought about it, he realized maybe the fire department
was
the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins. Maybe it was those things and more.
As he stood there thinking, Finney became aware of a woman rapping on the glass door to the
“I know who Stevenson is.”
“We’re going to see if we can’t get a statewide task force on arson fires moving along in the right direction.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Reese walked to the window, a world-weary act Finney had seen before, an affectation of thoughtfulness and calm, a commander at the helm of his ship. As a young officer, Reese had been mocked for it, mimics duplicating it within days of each new assignment, the wake of his career strewn with uniformed clowns who could ape him perfectly. Finney had always thought the mockery was a little sophomoric, akin to making fun of the teacher when his back was turned, but now he could picture himself mimicking Reese’s self-important pose.
“Am I going to get this job?” Finney asked.
Without turning around, Reese peered at Finney over his shoulder. “You know how long I’m going to be chief?”
“Am I going to get the job?”
“Until they pry my cold fingers off that desk. Meanwhile I’m going to build an officer corps the likes of which this department’s never seen. John, I want you to hear this from me. I figure I owe you that much. I’m not going to promote you.”
Even though he’d seen it coming, Finney felt as if he’d been hit in the chest. Surely this little pissant who could barely cut the mustard in drill school, who’d been promoted at the tail end of each list, who’d been despised by each of his crews, wasn’t going to sink Finney’s career over one fire? Or because of his father.
He tried to concentrate, vaguely aware that Reese was talking, though the words came to his ears as if through water.
“. . . and it wasn’t until I got a few years under my belt and gained some experience that I was able to appreciate what a power-mad, incompetent jackass your old man really was. . . . After what happened I know a lot of people still believe you’re a good firefighter, but for the time being I think, rather than giving orders, you should learn how to take them. You study for the next test two years from now. Meanwhile I’m going to keep you at Twenty-six’s. That should help settle you down.”
“I deserve this promotion and you know it.”
Reese walked over to the office door and dropped his hand onto the knob. “I can’t promote a man who would abandon his partner and then sabotage the efforts of the rescue team.”
“Abandon? What the hell are you talking about? I went for help. And just how did I sabotage the rescue team? I did everything but take your hand and lead you down that corridor. In fact, I offered to do just that.”
“You were in a blind panic,” Reese said quietly. “I almost lost my life because of you.”
Finney stared into Reese’s unwavering dark eyes. He’d never seen a man more sure of himself.
“You’re making a mistake,” Finney said. “I’m a good firefighter and I’d be a good officer.”
“There are two of us in this room, John. One of us has a citation on the wall. The other has a dead partner. Think about it.”
13. SICK CHICKENS WITH MATCHES
The rig was out when Finney got back to Station 26, and for a few crazy minutes he considered emptying his locker and leaving his resignation scrawled on a roll of toilet paper the way one contemptuous old-timer had done years before. There were several actions he could take. He still had a vague hankering to go back to school, get a degree, and teach high school history. He’d worked for a commercial painting outfit and he’d always liked the smell of paint and the routine of good honest labor every day. The fire department wasn’t the air in his lungs or the blood in his veins. Then again, nothing would destroy his father quicker than to see him quit. And as he thought about it, he realized maybe the fire department
was
the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins. Maybe it was those things and more.
As he stood there thinking, Finney became aware of a woman rapping on the glass door to the
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