“But no actual increase in arsons?” Noah leafed through the report, which would be submitted to the PD by tomorrow.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. We anticipate the usual unintentional Halloween fires through enthusiastic use of candles on pumpkins and spooky displays. People fail to understand that ‘I meant to burn something down, but not that thing down’ can qualify for reckless burning or arson.”
“So, our operational capacity isn’t being overset?” Noah asked Hastings.
“Not an issue on that front. We’ll even absorb today’s Amazon warehouse inspection. You, me, Haskell, and part of Battalion 9 will be on hand this afternoon. He’s bringing two full off-duty shifts and their captains.”
“Good, because we’ll need them. That place is going to be a monster mash of corridors, twisty aisles, and multiple exits.” Noah opened the briefing report on the warehouse.
“It is something of an Escher painting, which will be hell if they ever have a fire. They should be sensible enough to have a pre-plan upfront. They open these distribution centers everywhere,” said Taggert.
“We can hope but never assume. If it was a rush job, they may have cut corners, so we’ll have to be sharp.” Noah didn’t want to get complacent. Cleveland getting a new Amazon distribution center was a big deal. However, he couldn’t blindly allow it to pass their inspection with flying colors because it paid taxes.
“Don’t worry. Haskell’s a good egg,” Hasting said. “I did train him. And you.”
“He’s good for the photo ops too. A little young,” the Marshal observed and then remembered Noah was the youngest chief in the department. “Beg your pardon.”
“Though on that topic of youngsters and photo ops, sir, you seem more angular,” Hastings commented, gathering his papers.
“I was going for ‘masculine.’ I’m boxing more. Fitzpatrick has another glamour shot planned,” he said, skimping on the details. “If there isn’t anything else, I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Taggert left, and Noah tilted his computer screen to see his own reflection. He had lost five pounds and notched his uniform belt one tighter than usual.
The boxing was only partially at fault. He’d made an effort to drop his take-out orders to a salad or small fry instead of a large fry. If he expected his firefighters to eat better, he needed to do the same. He couldn’t outrun his age and cholesterol forever.
The other factor was that he’d found his way into Erin’s bed at least once a week this past month. Between her twenty-four-hour shifts, his occasional call, and endless hours he put in at HQ, he’d missed a few meals and added the calorie burn of vigorous sex.
He glanced across the desk. Hastings hadn’t left. This meant he wanted to address something outside of the planned division head meetings. Noah had two days a month dedicated solely to meeting with his chiefs. One day was separate meetings with the battalion chiefs, then his section heads, then the division heads with his assistant chiefs. The other day brought the entire twenty chiefs under into one meeting.
“I take it there’s more.”
“It’s about Rescue Alpha,” Alan said.
“What’s the problem?” Noah asked.
“It is taking more time and work to coordinate with MetroGen than we had anticipated. Eric Cordova’s attention is split when he should be ushering this in.”
“How can we help him?” Noah had placed Cordova in charge because he had the most experience. He wasn’t a particularly friendly man, which was one of the reasons he hadn’t been selected for fire chief, but he was competent.
“In my opinion, the problem is you, sir.” Alan winked. “When you go big, you go big. You added ten firehouses last month and the paramedic battalion. The firehouses take up Cordova’s time, and Rescue Alpha needs a permanent leader with extensive medical experience. Kyra Yates doesn’t count.”
Kyra was the education coordinator for Rescue Alpha. Noah had recruited her a few years ago from the ER at MetroGen. She had remarkable skills, both as a nurse and paramedic. Unfortunately, she was not a firefighter or a doctor, which kept her from the leadership position they needed.
“It’s only been a month. Our agreement with MetroGen requires their approval and vetting for the future battalion chief of Rescue Alpha before it falls under their control in five years.”
“Is there a candidate for that position?”
“No one this year.” Noah kept his statement vague.
Not much got past Alan Hastings, though. “I noticed we have a Dr. Jacob Carver as a rookie at 15. And you redistributed the money allocated for your Chief’s Aide to add an extra person to the fire academy.”
“There were too many deserving candidates,” Noah said blandly.
“This Carver would not be any relation to Dr. Manika Gupta-Carver, the Chairman of MetroGen’s Department of Emergency Medicine?”
“I believe you mean ’Chairwoman’ or just ‘Chief.’ Keep it neutral.”
“Well, I ain’t the most politically correct person,” Hastings said. “And from my experience with them ER docs, you gottta be a man to handle that ER cowboy testosterone. They get lippy, and she’d better have big balls to keep those bastards in line.”
