Slow Burn, Chapter 16/21

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

God, I’m late.  Press conference starts in ninety minutes.  Lorelei checked her watch, then waved at the gathering crowd in the pavilion across the street.  A few scattered shouts or cheers told her she’d been recognized.  Several members of the press seemed about to rush over for an impromptu chat, but she dissuaded them with a single upraised finger.  Not yet, boys and girls.  You don’t have me until 3:00.

Then she turned and headed for the front entrance of the station.  Home again.  Paradiso had a charming antique quality to its construction, one that Lorelei found rather endearing.  It helped her feel like her experiment in an all-woman fire station had some continuity with the past, as opposed to being a rejection of the same.  She hoped the station would inspire a similar interpretation from the people of L.A.

The captain’s mind was occupied with a thousand details as she approached the door.  Have Mare get the gals together – go over protocol, make sure everyone’s presentable…Maybe I can spare Dina Reed five minutes, and promise her more once the press conference is over…

She pulled open the door and stepped through.  Her eyes, as always, took a moment to adjust from the bright sunlight outside and the dim interior of the station’s vestibule.  But as she peered about, the place looked deserted.

The door creaked and shut behind her.  Where on earth is Candy?  She at least should be tending the front at a time like this.  She called out inquisitively.  “Hello?”

Lorelei turned just in time to see a fire extinguisher hurtling toward her face.  She instinctively shied away, so the butt of the extinguisher caught her with a glancing blow on the side of the head.  She staggered, swooned, and fell into the arms of her assailant.

The captain’s senses were reeling.  She groaned in pain, then squinted upward.  Who…  Then she recognized a face from the headquarters harassment hearings.  “Sid Pullman?”

The tall man granted her a scornful smile.  “Welcome to the party, captain.  ‘Bout time you showed up.”


* * *


Lorelei was still groggy as Pullman half-carried, half-dragged her through the deserted halls of Paradiso.  She struggled to comprehend what was going on.  “Where is every–”

Her question was answered as they rounded a corner and she got a look through the doorway of the kitchenette.  Even seen through a bleary gaze, what Lorelei saw shocked her.

Her girls had been tied up, bruised, and humiliated.  Augusta stared with subdued anger; Candy communicated fear and apprehension with her eyes as she noticed the captain.  Becky sighed with sorrow and anguish. She nudged Antonia, bound behind her, and murmured, “Cap’s here.”

Even more disturbingly, there was a substantial pool of blood congealing on the floor.  Lorelei could hardly believe what she was seeing.  “My God…”

“Let’s go,” said Pullman, roughly dragging her forward.  The scene sickened the captain, and her knees buckled.  He hoisted her over his shoulder and moved down the hallway.  He took a moment to manually appraise her legs as he did so.

Grady was waiting outside the office door with a peculiar smile on his face as Pullman approached.  Slow-burning hatred smoldered in his eyes.  The tall man set the captain down on her own feet again; she sagged against the wall, but remained upright.  “John?” she asked accusingly.  “Are you behind all of this?!”

“For the first cause, look no further than yourself, my dear,” he said stonily.  “You’re very late.”  Then, with mock courtesy: “Won’t you step into my office?”  He gestured to the open door.

She pulled herself up straighter to look him in the eye.  “It’s my office.”

The veneer broke, and Grady shouted with rage.  “You only got it through goddamned affirmative action politics!”  He grabbed Lorelei’s hand and dragged her through the doorway, then threw her into the leather chair.  “Tie her up, Pullman!”

As the tall ex-firefighter did so, lashing her arms and legs to the chair, Lorelei looked across the room at the trussed Dina.  “Miss Reed, Channel Seven?” she inquired.  The reporter nodded.  “Lorelei Hawkins.  LAFD.  Sorry I’m late.  I ran into…complications.”

“Me too,” said Dina wearily.

Grady leapt between them and leaned in close to Lorelei’s face.  “You should be apologizing to me.  For all your shit.  All your goddamn lies.  All the trouble you caused me!”

Lorelei glared back at him.  “You caused it yourself.  I was just the one who pulled back the curtain.  Now what have you done to my people?”

He sneered.  “You did it to them, when you forced my hand, ‘captain.’  Nothing they won’t live through…” his voice lowered.  “…if they’re lucky.”

Lorelei’s voice was growing still stronger.  “Why involve all of them?  This is between us, John.  You know where I live.  You could have come for me any time.”

He took hold of her face, palm beneath her chin, thumb and forefinger pressing into her cheeks.  “Because I don’t care a fuck about you at home.  Fine place for a woman to be.  It’s this place you shouldn’t be…this office.  This is where you deserve to die.  For what you did to me and a dozen other good firemen in this city.”

She shook his hand off defiantly.  “Then what, John?  You just waltz out of here?  There’s already a crowd of people gathering at the pavilion across the street for the press conference.”

“I’ll make it work.  I’ll take the one true witness with me…”  He nodded toward Dina.

The reporter piped up.  “One true witness?  You just came running back here a few minutes ago with your mask off!  My guess is all those girls got a good look at your face, free and clear.”

Grady’s face blanched with realization.

Dina continued.  “Face it, Grady – there’s no way out of this for you.  Just leave us be, cut your losses, and run – run far, far away.”

Ybarra stepped through the doorway, with a murky look on his face.  He’d been listening from the hall.  “There’s another way, jefe.  A way for us all to get out of here, while you get your bitch killed off with no one the wiser.”  He flexed his fingers.

Grady turned warily toward his accomplice.  He was almost afraid to ask.  “...What’s that?”

Ybarra grinned darkly.  “I saw a backup generator in the boiler room.  We set it going, mess up the filters, let the carbon monoxide start seeping out.  Then we tase the bitches again.”

Grady replied uncertainly.  “How does that…”

Ybarra cut him off and continued.  “We remove their ropes…then torch the place.  Set the fire in the boiler room too.”  He beamed.  “By the time they would have come to, the carbon monoxide will keep them knocked out.  And it’s a handy explanation for why none of them got out of here.  It’ll get them, or the fire will.”  He leaned jauntily against the doorframe.  “Does the job, destroys evidence, leaves a culprit, gives us time to escape – and we’re home free.”

A look of deep horror crept over Grady’s face.  “You’re talking about murdering ten people,” he whispered, “most of them LAFD.  And burning down my station.”  His voice rose, shaking now.  “How dare you even say that to me?!”

Ybarra looked unimpressed.  “Just a suggestion, jefe.  Considering the heap of mierda we’re in.”  He pointed to the timepiece on the wall.  “And the clock is ticking.”

Grady slowly paced over to the window, his gait unsteady.  His hands shook with anxious energy.  He leaned against the frame, looking out with a distant expression.  A long moment passed this way, with a tense silence pervading the room.

Finally he turned, eyes toward the ground.  “Fine.  It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do.  Go set it up.”

Ybarra smiled and disappeared through the doorway.  Grady dispatched Pullman to retrieve some breathing equipment, then slumped against the wall, agonized.  He faced away from the two women who remained in the room.

Lorelei’s voice rang out again.  “Has it really come to this, John?  You came for me…” her voice grew softer.  “…and you‘ve got me.  Please, for God’s sake let the others go!”

He didn’t turn to look at her as he replied.  If he was really replying to her at all.  “Nothing turns out the way we plan, does it?”  He placed a palm against the wall, in patriarchal fashion.  “Do you realize what this station is to me?  It’s part of my blood.”

“Then don’t destroy it!”

He whirled about to face her, his voice hysterical.  “You forced me to do this!  You tried to pervert this place!  I would rather see it a smoking ruin than turn into what you want it to be!”

Dina spoke up again, indignant.  “From fire chief to murderer to arsonist.  Real smooth career move, you fucking godforsaken asshole!”

Grady snapped, and flew across the room at her.  He pulled the reporter upright and off the divan.  With her hands still bound, she could do nothing to protect her face as he slapped her hard.  Then he did it again.

Lorelei cried out at him to stop, but if he heard her at all he gave no sign of it.  Thrice.  Four times.  Then he cocked his hand into a fist and struck her once more; reeling, the reporter spun about and fell onto the divan, facedown among the cushions.

Pullman rushed back through the door, carrying two kits of self-contained breathing apparatus.  “They only had two SCBAs, boss.  I figured you and I could use them.”  Lorelei cringed; she’d had to call in several favors to even get the two of them donated to the station.  Now they were just passports to safety for firemen who’d gone bad long ago.

Pullman handed one rig off to Grady, then started getting into his own.  “Better put it on fast, boss.  That stuff will build up quick, with everything Ybarra’s doing.  It’s almost like he’s done this before.”

Grady shouldered the rig and adjusted the straps.  “We need to get all our stuff together by back door.  I want you to check every door lock as we leave – and we take the keys with us.”  His voice was thick with regret, but evinced no lack of resolve.  “No one gets out.”

The ex-chief glanced over at Lorelei.  The captain had her eyes closed, and her head was bowed in supplication.  Her full lips formed the shape of words, though no sound backed them up.

“Any last words, Captain Cunt?”

She didn’t move as she spoke.  “Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this?”

Grady sucked in a deep breath.  “Hell no.”

She looked up at him with sad brown eyes.  They were free of fear – they held only clarity and resignation.  “Then...I forgive you, John.”

Something inside Grady snapped again.  “You…forgive me?!”  His face was black with rage.  He drew his pistol, hand shaking with guilt and fury.  He aimed at her heart – enacting the last remaining shred of the original plan – and fired.

Lorelei shrieked in pain and shock as she toppled backward in the chair.  Pullman’s eyes widened.  The captain gurgled once, and was silent.

All Grady wanted to do now was fling the gun aside.  But that would mean leaving evidence at the scene, so he reluctantly holstered it instead.  “Make sure Reed’s out, undo both their bonds and bring the ropes along,” he muttered to Pullman.  “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”  He turned and bolted from the room.

Pullman finished adjusting his breathing equipment, then stepped over and quickly untied Lorelei.  Her legs remained posed atop the front of the chair, which now faced the ceiling, but her freed arms flopped limply to the floor.

Then he turned his attention to Dina.  He walked across the room to her, coiled her lush brown hair in his hand, and hoisted her head up from the divan.  He twisted around to see her expression.

Her eyes were closed, showing off the full extent of her faint amethyst eyeshadow.  Her mouth hung open slightly, revealing a set of perfect teeth.  All her features were slack.  The reporter was breathing, but she hung listlessly in his grip.

Satisfied, Pullman let her drop face-first into the cushions again, then undid her restraints.  Her drooping limbs relaxed to more natural positions as he did so.  Then, his task complete, he caressed her supple, mouthwatering legs one last time.  Damn shame, he thought.

The air was already starting to look hazy as he left the office.


* * *


The screams, protests, and accusations of the doomed girls still rang in Grady’s ears as he jogged toward the back exit.  With the smell, if not the sight, of smoke already evident, the girls had begun to guess some of what was in store for them.  The dispatcher had been the only one to openly plead, though her voice was muffled by her gag.  The Polish girl’s comment – “Just shoot us, then!” – had been particularly biting, considering the smoking gun still on his hip.

The worst, though, was the quiet denunciation by the young medic as he’d advanced upon her with the taser.  “You let me work to save them,” she had said, referring to the injured in the room behind her.  “Why?”  The last word was a thunderous whisper.  And Grady had had no answer to give.

After the girl had dropped to the floor, quivering, he hadn’t had the heart to go after her patients.  He’d just left the rest to Pullman and Ybarra.  They weren’t far behind.

Grady reached the door, puffing, and shouldered his bag.  When his two accomplices joined him, he couldn’t help noticing the difference in their expressions.  Even through the SCBA mask, he could see Pullman’s face was ashen; he was even a little green about the gills.  Ybarra was the only one who looked like he was having any fun.

“All set?” Grady asked in a wavering voice.

“Si, jefe!”  Ybarra’s response was prompt; Pullman just nodded vacantly.

“Okay then.”  Grady opened the door and stepped out into the alley, followed by the other two.  “Toss all your stuff in that Dumpster at the other end of the alley, like we planned.  If it doesn’t get scooped up, maybe we can retrieve some of it later.  Then split up.  I’ll be in touch.”

He sighed and reached out for the master keyring; Pullman hesitated just a moment, then handed it over.  Grady quickly found the correct key and inserted it in the lock.  Then it was his turn to hesitate.

He placed his free hand against the sturdy wall of the venerable old building.  The brick was warm to the touch, fittingly.  He knew – intellectually at least – that the heat was from the afternoon California sun, and not the inferno he’d kindled inside.  But the thought was of little comfort.

He’d always had a keen nose for smoke – it had served him from the moment he joined the department, back when he was sixteen.  The telltale odors drifted past his nostrils.  It was subtle yet, but he knew it was there.  He wondered how long it would take the people across the street at the pavilion to notice.

He patted the brick one last time.  Damn shame.  Then he turned the key in the lock.