Chapter 5 - Fire on the Water
The heat was suffocating. Smoke billowed into the night sky, turning the rainy air into a toxic, blinding smog.
Clara covered her mouth with her sleeve, pushing through the heavy iron doors of Warehouse 4. The fire had already consumed the front office partition, burning through file cabinets and wooden desks.
In the center of the main floor, a man wearing a dark yellow raincoat was tossing cans of gasoline over rows of archive boxes.
"Stop!" Clara yelled, her voice echoing through the burning warehouse.
The man spun around, holding a flare gun. It was Thomas, Julian Vance’s chief security operative in Boston.
"Miss Mercer," Thomas sneered, his face illuminated by the dancing orange flames. "You really should have stayed in the newsroom. Investigating real power gets people killed."
"Julian sent you to burn paper?" Clara challenged, taking a slow step forward, her eyes scanning the room for an exit or a weapon. "Paper deeds don't matter anymore, Thomas. Everything was digitized and uploaded to a secure federal server two days ago!"
Thomas hesitated, a flash of doubt crossing his eyes. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Clara countered smoothly. "Why do you think Arthur let you get this far? He wanted Julian to order this arson attack on camera."
She pointed up toward the steel support girders near the ceiling. Among the shadows, small blue operational lights on waterproof security cameras flickered steadily.
Thomas looked up, cursing under his breath. "It doesn't matter! Once you're dead in this fire, Julian will tie up the estate in court for a decade!"
He raised the flare gun, aiming it directly at Clara's chest.
BANG!
A sharp gunshot shattered the noise of the crackling fire.
Thomas gasped, dropping the flare gun as a bullet struck his shoulder. He fell backward onto a pile of burning pallets, screaming in pain.
Miles stepped through the smoke, his pistol raised, his face grim. "Clear out, Clara! The roof is going to collapse!"
Clara grabbed a fireproof metal box from the top desk—the box containing Eleanor’s personal diaries—and ran toward the exit beside Miles.
They burst out into the cool, rainy night air just as the central roof of Warehouse 4 caved in with a deafening roar, sending a shower of sparks into the sky.
Fire trucks roared onto the docks, sirens wailing, water cannons instantly blasting the blaze.
Clara collapsed onto her knees on the wet asphalt, clutching the metal box to her chest, coughing violently from the smoke inhalation.
Miles dropped beside her, checking her pulse. "Are you alright?"
"I have them," Clara gasped, holding up the metal box. "Eleanor's diaries... her personal records..."
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Miles wiped rain and soot from his face, looking at the burning building, then down at Clara. "Julian just crossed the line from corporate espionage to terrorism. The federal authorities will issue an extradition order for him by morning."
"Good," Clara panted, her eyes flashing with dangerous determination as she looked out over the harbor, where the giant cranes at Pier 42 were already lighting up the sky, preparing to receive the incoming fleet. "Because it's time we bring Julian Vance back to Boston to face justice."
