Time, now, was the critical factor and he quietly let himself out of the front door and hurried through the churchyard to the Scimitar.
Strangely enough, the whippet gave him no trouble during the drive. It crouched in the rear beside the body, whining only occasionally, although when he put a hand on it, it was trembling.
He approached Pine Trees Crematorium by the back lane Varley had used that morning, getting out of the car to open the five-barred gate that led into the estate} He followed the same narrow track down through the cypress trees, cutting the engine for the last hundred yards which was slightly down-hill. Not that it mattered, for as he remembered it, the super-intendent’s house and the main gate were a good quarter of a mile from the crematorium itself, so noise was really no problem.
He left the Scimitar at the side of the chapel and gained access by reaching in through the broken pane in the lavatory which he had noticed during his visit that morning and unfastening the window itself.
The chapel door had a Yale lock so it opened easily enough from the inside. He returned to the Scimitar. There was a torch in the glove compartment which he slipped into his pocket, then he raised the tailgate and heaved the body over his shoulder. The whippet tried to follow, but he managed to shove it back inside with his free hand and dosed the tailgate again.
He gained access to the furnace room by sliding the body along the rollers of the movable belt and crawling through after it himself, following the route the coffin had taken that morning.
The furnaces were cold and dark. He opened the door of the first one and shoved the body inside. Next he produced the various items he had taken from Billy Meehan’s pockets and examined them in the light of the torch. Those things which would burn, he placed on top of the body. The ring, the watch and the medal he put back in his pocket. Then he closed the oven door and pressed the switch.
He could hear the muted rumble of the gas jets as they roared into life and peered inside. What was it Meehan had said? An hour at the most. He lit a cigarette, opened the back door and went outside.
The sound of the furnace in operation was barely discern-ible outside the building. Not at all when he moved a few yards away. He went back inside to see what was happening. The gauge was just coming up to the thousand degrees centigrade mark and as he peered through the observation panel in the door, the wallet he had left on the body’s chest burst into flames. The clothing was already smouldering, there was a sudden bright flash and the whole body started to burn.
He lit another cigarette, went and stood at the back door and waited.
At the end of the specified period he switched off. There was part of the skull, the pelvic girdle and some of the limbs dearly visible, and much of this crumbled into even smaller pieces at the first touch of the rake.
He filled the tin box, found a hand brush and shovel, care-fully swept up every trace of ash that he could see, then closed the furnace door leaving it exactly as he had found it. Certainly all heat would be dissipated again before the morn-ing.
He found an empty urn, screwed it on the bottom of the pulveriser then poured in the contents of the tin box. He clamped down the lid and switched on. While he was waiting, he opened the desk drawer and helped himself to a blank Rest-in-Peace card.
When he switched off about two minutes later and un-screwed the urn, all that was left of Billy Meehan was about five pounds of grey ash.
He walked along the path to the point Meehan had taken him to that morning until he came across a gardener’s wheel barrow and various tools, indicating where the man had stopped work that afternoon.
Fallon checked the number plate and strewed the ashes carefully. Then he took a besom from the wheelbarrow and worked them well in. When he was satisfied, he replaced the besom exactly as he had found it, turned and walked away.