The first thing she saw from the window she never forgot—living trees on fire, blazing like giant torches with the brisk, crackling sound of a good fire on an open hearth, trees that had taken generations to grow. This place would not be Leafy Way again in her lifetime.
How often she had worked to coax green logs into a blaze. These logs weren’t just green, they were alive, yet they needed no coaxing. They were burning as fast as paper, close to the house. This was not a “good” fire. This was the threat of death made visible.
“Where are the firemen?” she cried.
“On their way. Those sirens are theirs.”
“And the first one?”
“Our alarm here in the house. It’s supposed to be sensitive to both heat and smoke. I can’t understand how the flames got such a start without its going off before.”
“Can we jump or drop?”
Jeremy looked down at the terrace. “No. Especially with flagstones below. We must wait for the firemen if we can.”
They both turned to look at the door behind them. Now smoke was leaking through every crack, top, bottom, and sides.
“We may have to jump if they don’t get here soon,” said Jeremy. “Better a broken ankle than suffocation.”
Now there were voices. A mob of people charged around the corner from the front of the house. They were running beside fire engines that had to move slowly over the turf.
Wilkes and two of his men were trying to block their way.
“Don’t crowd the firemen. They know their job. You can’t help.”
There was the sound of an axe crashing through glass and wood. Just below the balcony, two firemen were trying to attach a hose to a standpipe. “Is there enough pressure?” asked somebody.
Water gushed. The firemen directed their jets toward windows nearer the front of the house where, as everyone knew, the Governor and his lady had their private apartments. Searchlights from fire engines were concentrating on that end, too. The balcony where Tash and Jeremy were standing was still in shadow. No one had noticed them yet.
Tash looked down at the crowd, now standing back a good way from the house. The only light that reached their upturned faces was a flicker of flame and shadow that jerked and leapt, pranced and pirouetted to the crackling music of burning trees.
It was hard not to think of that fire as something alive, hungry and malicious, exulting in its own cruelty. Only Goya or Bosch could have made paint render a scene so infernal.
Smoke stung their eyes now and parched their throats as they breathed the poisoned air. They hardly dared to look behind them again. When they did, they saw a room smothered in smoke and one ravenous, red flame licking the rug on their side of the closed door.
It was better to look the other way. Beyond the fire engines, Tash recognized some of the ushers still in pajamas. The fully clothed were mostly reporters and press photographers. She was surprised to see Bill Brewer among them.
Like everyone else, he was staring up at the house, his face white under the play of red light, his eyeballs glittering whenever they caught the reflection of the flames.
“There’s the Governor now!” It was Carlos’ voice shouting to firemen. “On that balcony. Bring a ladder. Quick!”
Carlos darted forward until he was on the terrace just below the balcony. He was barefoot, wearing slacks and a shirt, as if he had pulled on the first things that came to hand when the alarm went off.
He looked up and shouted: “Jerry! We couldn’t find you anywhere. How the devil did you get up there?”
“Sorry,” said Jeremy without offering an explanation.
Tash saw instantly what had happened. When the alarm went off, Carlos and others in the household had failed to find the Governor, because no one would think of looking for him in her rooms at three in the morning.
Now everyone was going to know exactly where he had been, including the reporters and Vivian.
She began to regret her flimsy negligee and Jerry’s tennis shirt with sleeves rolled up and no necktie.
Firemen were dragging a long, heavy ladder up to the balcony with help from Carlos. Its top came to rest against the railing. One fireman held it steady at the bottom and called up the balcony: “Okay, Governor?”
Jeremy stepped back.
“Must I go first?” cried Tash.
He grinned. “What do you think? GOVERNOR RUNS DOWN LADDER LEAVING WOMAN TO FLAMES? A headline like that is all I need now!”
The flagstones looked a long way down. Suddenly, they tilted. To her shame, she knew this was vertigo.
She climbed over the railing and stood for a moment on the narrow ledge beyond it, then turned to face the balcony and Jeremy. His smile encouraged her. One of her feet found the top rung of the ladder behind her where she could not see it. She closed her eyes and began to feel her way down, rung by rung.
She was halfway down when a champagne cork popping sound startled her so she nearly fell. She opened her eyes and caught the last blue-white flare of a press photographer’s flash bulb.
She was almost at the bottom when Jeremy called down to Carlos:
“You’ve got Vivian out?”
“Not yet. The fire seems to have started in her room, and—Jerry! Come back! Don’t be a fool!”
Tash looked up just in time to see Jeremy turn away from the balcony and go back into the burning room.
“Tash! Quick!” Carlos lifted her the rest of the way down and ran up the ladder.
The fireman holding the ladder shook his head.
“Are those guys nuts?”
But he followed Carlos up the ladder.
Tash felt an arm around her shoulders. It was Hilary.
She was wearing a mink coat over pajamas, carrying a jewel case, a purse, and a passport. She would always have enough presence of mind to think of her own interests in any crisis.
“He has to do it,” said Hilary. “How could he
