Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I break the kiss when I hear sirens in the distance. They’re getting closer to us quickly.
“Come on,” I urge. “We’d better get out of here and go and find the rest of the people who got out. We don’t want a team of firefighters in there looking for us when we’re safe.”
22
VIKTOR
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her against my side as I lead her down the little winding path that cuts through the garden.
“Not everyone made it out of there, did they?” Amelia asks in a soft voice.
I want to tell her that of course they did, that everything is right in the world and bad things don’t happen to people who have just gone to work or gone out to enjoy a meal, never imagining this would be their last night on earth. I want to protect her from the horrors of the world. I think of the woman who fell. Her shocked face locked in a scream of fear and panic. Amelia is not stupid. She knows how bad it was back there.
“No,” I say, equally softly. “I don’t think they did.”
She moves a little closer to me as a shiver goes through her and I tighten my hold on her.
“What do you think caused the explosion?” she asks.
“I have no idea,” I tell her. “But I intend to find out.”
We reach the gate to the garden, and I open it and lead Amelia through it. We come out at the side of the restaurant and make our way around to the front. A crowd has gathered there. Most of them are standing around watching the fire, expressions of shock on their faces. Some are lying on the ground with other people tending to them as best as they can.
The sirens are almost upon us now. Within moments the crowd is bathed in a flickering blue light as the first ambulance arrives. Another two are right behind it, followed by two fire engines and a police car.
I spot Marty, the restaurant manager, in the crowd. “Come on,” I tell Amelia and make my way towards him.
“Any idea what caused the fire?” I ask.
“Yes. It was done on purpose, Viktor,” Marty growls. He looks at me through slightly too wide eyes. Then he blinks and catches himself. “My apologies, Mr. Leshchenko, I don’t know why I called you Viktor there. I…”
I shake my head impatiently. “Forget that” I say. “Why do you think it was arson?”
“Someone kicked the back door in and threw something into the kitchen. Before anyone could react, the thing exploded.”
I scowl. Someone threw a Molotov cocktail into my restaurant! Instantly, I know who’s responsible for this and I feel anger swirling inside of me. People are dead because fucking Igor has an issue with me. Why can’t he just come to me, man to man, and have it out with me?
Amelia brushes against me and I glance down at her, wondering if she’s gone into shock.
“Hey. Are you ok?” I ask, holding her tighter against me.
“Yeah. I’m just cold,” she says through chattering teeth.
I wish I’d brought a jacket, but I haven’t. Immediately Marty takes off his work jacket and hands it to her.
“Here, wear this,” he offers.
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Amelia says, shaking her head.
“Sure you can. It’s all part of the service,” Marty says with an attempt at a smile.
Amelia smiles back at him and thanks him. I help her into the jacket, then put my arm back around her shoulders.
“All right then. I’m going to have a word with the police,” Marty says.
I nod and he goes off to find an officer. I should probably go and talk to them myself, but Marty knows more about this than I do, and I have no intention of telling the police my theory about Igor. I’ll be dealing with him myself.
I look around the crowd again. Most of the people who were lying on the ground have been taken away in the first two ambulances, and the people left look for the most part like they only need basic first aid. The firefighters are fighting the blaze and a team of them are running in and out, pulling out bodies and covering them with white sheets that instantly turn black and red.
A firefighter stumbles out of the building with a woman slung over his shoulder. It’s the woman who was on the ground. I recognize her bright pink dress, even though it’s now streaked with black.
“Paramedic,” the fire fighter shouts. “Paramedic.”
Two paramedics rush in, passing by me and Amelia.
“We’ve got a live one,” he says. “I suspect she has a broken leg. She was trampled as people ran from the fire, but I think that’s what saved her life. She was so low down, she’s inhaled a lot less smoke than the others who were trapped in there.”