Chapter 7 - The Inferno of Truth
The jar shattered against the hot bulb. A violent flash of blue and orange fire erupted instantly, feeding on the chemical solvent. The glass terrariums cracked under the intense heat, and a thick, acrid black smoke began to fill the basement air.
"The specimens!" Brent cried out in a panic, covering his face as smoke billowed toward the stairs.
The guard fired a shot, but the blinding flash of the explosion threw off his aim. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly off the steel safe behind me.
Taking advantage of the smoke, I dropped to the floor where the air was clearer, grabbing the leather ledger and the velvet case of ampoules from the safe. I crawled rapidly along the perimeter wall, bypassing the panicked Hale family.
"Where is she? Find her!" Eleanor ordered, coughing violently as the toxic smoke filled her lungs.
Through the haze, I saw Arthur's replacement stumbling blindly, his gun raised. I reached up, grabbed a heavy iron wrench from the bottom shelf of the workbench, and swung it hard against his knee. He collapsed with a groan, dropping the firearm into the growing flames.
"Brent! Help me!" Paige screamed as the fire spread to the wooden support beams of the ceiling.
Brent, proving his true cowardice, didn't look back for his sister or his mother. He scrambled up the basement stairs, desperate to save his own skin.
I followed closely behind him, using the smoke as cover. As Brent burst through the kitchen door into the fresh air of the house, I emerged right behind him. He spun around, gasping for breath, his face covered in soot. When he saw me holding the ledger and the evidence, his eyes widened in terror.
"Give me that, Claire! You're destroying my family!" he yelled, lunging at me.
I dodged his clumsy assault, stepping aside and throwing a heavy porcelain vase from the kitchen counter directly into his path. It shattered against his shins, sending him crashing heavily onto the hardwood floor.
Before he could get up, the front doors of the estate were kicked open with a resounding crash.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation! Nobody move!"
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A tactical team of federal agents, accompanied by state police, swarmed the hallway, their weapons raised. Behind them stood my old mentor from the Attorney General's office, Director Marcus Vance.
I dropped to my knees, holding up my hands, but keeping a firm grip on the ledger. "Director Vance," I called out, coughing out the last of the smoke. "The evidence is right here. And the rest of the conspiracy is currently trapped in the basement."
