Chapter 10: The Scent of Gas
The warning didn't even have time to fully register before a faint, sharp odor began leaking through the open crack of the vault door.
Natural gas.
Clara’s heart skipped a beat as she grabbed Arthur from the leather bench, scooping him up into her arms and pulling his light blue shirt over his nose and mouth to filter the air.
“Agent Vance, move!” Clara shouted, throwing her shoulder against the heavy steel door and helping the federal agent shove it completely open.
They spilled out into the dark wine cellar, coughing as the heavy smell of raw propane grew thicker with every passing second, stinging their eyes and throats.
Agent Vance drew his service weapon with one hand while holding his radio with the other, coughing violently into his shoulder.
“Command, priority one! Gas leak initiated in the sub-basement! We need a full hazmat evacuation and the fire department dispatched immediately!” Vance yelled into the receiver.
This time, the radio crackled through the static with a clear, urgent response:
“Copy, Vance! Perimeter units report seeing smoke venting from the east wing. Get out of there now!”
Clara carried the sleeping boy as fast as she could up the winding stone staircase leading from the cellar toward the main ground-floor hallway.
The grand dining room they had stood in just twenty minutes ago was now partially obscured by a thick, gray haze rolling down from the upper levels of the mansion.
The antique chandelier flickered violently before shorting out with a shower of electrical sparks that rained down onto the Persian rug.
Marcus was kneeling near the shattered porcelain plate by the dining table, his hands cuffed behind his back, coughing uncontrollably as two federal marshals tried to drag him toward the front doors.
“Clara! Over here!” Marcus wheezed, his face covered in soot.
“Mother… she went up to the roof helipad. She has the master server drive with the adoption records and the birth logs!”
Clara stopped in her tracks, clutching Arthur tightly against her chest as she looked up the grand staircase toward the upper levels.
“Where are the federal marshals holding Elena?” Clara demanded over the roar of the ventilation fans trying in vain to clear the gas.
“She broke their zip-ties during the power surge,” Marcus yelled back, struggling against the officers holding him.
“She’s insane, Clara! She’d rather burn the whole estate to the ground than let the world see what she did in Geneva!”
Agent Vance ran up beside Clara, grabbing her arm to pull her toward the blown-open front foyer.
“Mrs. Sterling, we have to evacuate right now. The gas concentration in the walls is reaching critical mass. One spark from the electrical failure and this entire mansion goes up.”
Clara looked down at Arthur, who was beginning to stir, coughing softly against her shoulder as the toxic air seeped into his lungs.
Then she reached into her beige dress pocket and felt the cold, sharp edge of the broken porcelain shard she had picked up off the floor during the initial argument.
She looked up the grand staircase, toward the dark hallway leading to the roof access.
“Go get Arthur to the ambulance, Agent Vance,” Clara instructed, handing the boy over to the federal agent with an absolute, unyielding authority.
“I’m going up to finish this.”
May you like
Before Vance could protest, Clara turned on her heel and sprinted up the stairs into the smoke, leaving the burning mansion behind her.
***
