Chapter 13 - The Fire This Time: Rekindling the Inferno
Before Matteo could descend the iron ladder into the basin, the smell of burning accelerant suddenly filled the room.
Paul, lying wounded near the side entrance, had used his surviving hand to drag himself toward the emergency fuel line.
With a twisted, dying grin, Paul flicked a disposable lighter against the leaking fuel valve.
WHOOSH!
A wall of orange fire erupted along the eastern wall of the boathouse, racing up the dry cedar timbers toward the ceiling.
“FIRE!” I shouted, grabbing Frank’s arm.
The heat was instantaneous and suffocating, exactly like the night Frank had described from twenty-eight years ago.
Smoke billowed thick and black, obscuring the ceiling lights, turning the boathouse into an inferno within seconds.
“GET OUT! GO TO THE DOCK!” Luca yelled.
Matteo grabbed Deputy Commissioner Vance by the collar and dragged his unconscious body through the side door.
I supported Frank on his left side, while Vanessa, finding her feet through the smoke, grabbed Frank’s right arm.
Together, the three of us hauled Frank through the front entrance onto the rain-soaked pier.
Behind us, Luca didn't run for the exit.
He turned back toward the dry dock basin.
“LUCA!” I screamed through the roaring flames. “COME ON!”
Through the thick smoke, I saw Luca jump down into the shallow basin.
He grabbed Salvatore Bellini by the collar of his expensive cashmere coat and hauled the broken old man over his shoulder.
“Luca! Leave him!” Frank shouted from the pier. “He left you to burn!”
“I am not Salvatore Bellini!” Luca’s voice roared back through the fire.
With a surge of sheer willpower, Luca climbed the iron ladder, carrying his father’s greatest enemy on his back.
He reached the top of the slipway just as the main roof beam collapsed in a shower of blazing embers and sparks.
Luca dove through the front doors onto the wet timber pier, rolling clear with Salvatore just as the entire boathouse collapsed inward in a roaring column of flame.
We lay on the wet wooden planks, gasping for air in the freezing rain, our faces covered in soot, watching the fire reflect in the dark waters of Lake Michigan.
In the distance, the sirens of federal law enforcement vehicles and city fire engines wailed through the night sky, drawing closer with every passing second.
Luca sat up, his hands burned and bleeding, his clothes scorched.
He looked at Frank Delaney, whose face was illuminated by the dying glow of the fire.
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Frank looked back at him, tears cutting through the ash on his cheeks.
“You did it, kid,” Frank whispered. “The fire’s finally out.”
