of photographs. Dismembered by a couple of sturdy engineers, the aircraft had been packed into containers and trucked away.
Dennis wanted to know more.
‘ What about the AAIB?’
‘ They weren’t interested.’
‘ They knew about it? You told them?’
Steve’s hesitation gave him away.
‘ They’d found out from someone else,’ he said at last. ‘One of the airport people, I expect.’ He nodded vaguely in the direction of the terminal buildings in a gesture that could have meant anybody.
Dennis was getting tetchy.
‘ You’re telling me they won’t investigate?’
‘ There’s no need. No one was hurt.’
‘ Half a million quid’s worth of aeroplane?’
‘ That’s not their problem.’
‘ No, but it might be ours.’
Steve ignored the remark, slumped in his chair behind the desk. He tapped ash into the waste bin at his feet and began to fiddle with an old altimeter he must have rescued from the skip. It was lying there on the desk beside the telephone and for the first time I noticed the small framed photo partially hidden behind it. It was angled away from me but I could see enough to register the face of a child. She looked young, pre-school certainly.
Dennis was starting to ask the harder questions. He was, if anything, even more aggressive.
‘ Ellie’s down for three hundred grand,’ he reminded Steve. ‘We need to know about the status of the loan.’
Steve gestured hopelessly at the photos.
‘ I’m trying to sort it out.’
‘ How?’
‘ By talking to the insurers.’
Dennis muttered something terse about Glennister. The man had a box at Lloyd’s. He knew the insurance industry backwards. If anyone got screwed here, it certainly wouldn’t be him.
‘ No.’ Steve nodded. ‘I expect you’re right.’
‘ So who pays?’
‘ I dunno.’
‘ Take a wild guess.’
Dennis glanced in my direction. Steve was looking even more dejected.
‘ Tell me about the business,’ I said quickly. ‘How was the rest of it going?’
‘ Fine, until…’ Steve indicated the photos of the wrecked Spitfire.
‘ But you had customers? Stuff was moving through?’
‘ Yeah, absolutely. That’s why I expanded. I had more work than I knew what to do with. This place was perfect, just what I needed.’
‘ And it took all the money? The whole three hundred thousand?’
‘ Not all of it, no.’
‘ How much, then?’
Steve ducked his head, refusing to look me in the eye, and I rephrased the question. For the time being we were talking about money. All too quickly, as Dennis kept warning me, we could be talking about bricks and mortar.
‘ This matters to me, Steve. I want to know exactly how I stand.’
Steve said nothing. Dennis stirred. He had a big topaz ring on his little finger, and when he was angry he had a habit of twisting it round and round.
‘ It’s been a bad week, Steve,’ he said softly. ‘On Thursday, Ellie lost her husband. Next, it could be her home. You hearing me?’
Steve looked up.
‘ It won’t come to that,’ he said quickly.
‘ How do you know?’
‘ I just do.’
‘ But how can you?’
Once again, Steve had no answer. Conversationally, he seemed like a man with one hand tied behind his back. There were moves he couldn’t make, things he wouldn’t say. So far he’d told us practically nothing.
I heard myself asking about the fire. How did it start? When did it happen?
‘ Couple of weeks ago.’
‘ But when? Exactly?’
‘ The middle of the night. Around one in the morning.’
Dennis took up the running.
‘ And the thing just burst into flames? Just like that? Spontaneous combustion?’
‘ No one knows.’
‘ Might someone have got in? Was the place locked up?’
‘ Of course.’
‘ You know that?’
‘ Yes. I locked up myself. This place is really secure. It’s one of the reasons I took on the lease.’
Dennis brooded for a moment. He still had the ring in the fingers of his other hand, twisting and twisting.
‘ And
Dennis wanted to know more.
‘ What about the AAIB?’
‘ They weren’t interested.’
‘ They knew about it? You told them?’
Steve’s hesitation gave him away.
‘ They’d found out from someone else,’ he said at last. ‘One of the airport people, I expect.’ He nodded vaguely in the direction of the terminal buildings in a gesture that could have meant anybody.
Dennis was getting tetchy.
‘ You’re telling me they won’t investigate?’
‘ There’s no need. No one was hurt.’
‘ Half a million quid’s worth of aeroplane?’
‘ That’s not their problem.’
‘ No, but it might be ours.’
Steve ignored the remark, slumped in his chair behind the desk. He tapped ash into the waste bin at his feet and began to fiddle with an old altimeter he must have rescued from the skip. It was lying there on the desk beside the telephone and for the first time I noticed the small framed photo partially hidden behind it. It was angled away from me but I could see enough to register the face of a child. She looked young, pre-school certainly.
Dennis was starting to ask the harder questions. He was, if anything, even more aggressive.
‘ Ellie’s down for three hundred grand,’ he reminded Steve. ‘We need to know about the status of the loan.’
Steve gestured hopelessly at the photos.
‘ I’m trying to sort it out.’
‘ How?’
‘ By talking to the insurers.’
Dennis muttered something terse about Glennister. The man had a box at Lloyd’s. He knew the insurance industry backwards. If anyone got screwed here, it certainly wouldn’t be him.
‘ No.’ Steve nodded. ‘I expect you’re right.’
‘ So who pays?’
‘ I dunno.’
‘ Take a wild guess.’
Dennis glanced in my direction. Steve was looking even more dejected.
‘ Tell me about the business,’ I said quickly. ‘How was the rest of it going?’
‘ Fine, until…’ Steve indicated the photos of the wrecked Spitfire.
‘ But you had customers? Stuff was moving through?’
‘ Yeah, absolutely. That’s why I expanded. I had more work than I knew what to do with. This place was perfect, just what I needed.’
‘ And it took all the money? The whole three hundred thousand?’
‘ Not all of it, no.’
‘ How much, then?’
Steve ducked his head, refusing to look me in the eye, and I rephrased the question. For the time being we were talking about money. All too quickly, as Dennis kept warning me, we could be talking about bricks and mortar.
‘ This matters to me, Steve. I want to know exactly how I stand.’
Steve said nothing. Dennis stirred. He had a big topaz ring on his little finger, and when he was angry he had a habit of twisting it round and round.
‘ It’s been a bad week, Steve,’ he said softly. ‘On Thursday, Ellie lost her husband. Next, it could be her home. You hearing me?’
Steve looked up.
‘ It won’t come to that,’ he said quickly.
‘ How do you know?’
‘ I just do.’
‘ But how can you?’
Once again, Steve had no answer. Conversationally, he seemed like a man with one hand tied behind his back. There were moves he couldn’t make, things he wouldn’t say. So far he’d told us practically nothing.
I heard myself asking about the fire. How did it start? When did it happen?
‘ Couple of weeks ago.’
‘ But when? Exactly?’
‘ The middle of the night. Around one in the morning.’
Dennis took up the running.
‘ And the thing just burst into flames? Just like that? Spontaneous combustion?’
‘ No one knows.’
‘ Might someone have got in? Was the place locked up?’
‘ Of course.’
‘ You know that?’
‘ Yes. I locked up myself. This place is really secure. It’s one of the reasons I took on the lease.’
Dennis brooded for a moment. He still had the ring in the fingers of his other hand, twisting and twisting.
‘ And
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