Chapter 4 - THE FIREBOX
The silence in the cramped apartment was deafening, broken only by the distant wail of a police siren.
Daniel stared at Thomas. The man who had guarded his life, who had eaten at his dinner table, who had pretended to search for Emily for two decades, was holding a gun to his heart.
"Thomas," Daniel said, his voice dangerously low. "You were the man with the falcon ring. Rebecca was supposed to trust you. She handed Emily over to you that night."
"She did," Thomas admitted, his face a stone mask. "Rebecca was a naive fool. She thought Richard was trying to kill the girl to get the inheritance. She begged me to help hide her. But she didn't know I was already on Richard's payroll."
Emily pressed her back against the peeling wallpaper, her hands covering her mouth. "You… you took me?"
"I was supposed to throw you in the river," Thomas said coldly. "But Rebecca got cold feet. She ambushed me at the rail yard, sprayed mace in my eyes, and grabbed you. She disappeared into the underground tunnels. By the time I recovered, she was gone. For twenty years, I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere. Until tonight, when I saw your face at the restaurant."
Daniel’s fists clenched. "You shot at us tonight. Not Richard."
"Richard is a coward. He’s been panicking for twenty years," Thomas sneered. "I dropped the watch on purpose to frame him. Let you two brothers destroy each other while I take the severance package Richard promised me. But now that you’ve found the ticket, I have to clean up the mess myself."
Thomas raised the gun slightly, aiming it at Emily. "Nothing personal, kid. But billions are at stake."
"No!" Daniel roared.
He didn't have a weapon, but he had the heavy wool coat in his hands. With a desperate shout, Daniel threw the heavy garment directly at Thomas’s face.
The gun fired with a muffled thwip, the bullet tearing through the wool and lodging into the ceiling.
Before Thomas could readjust, Daniel tackled him. The two large men crashed into the rickety drywall, shattering a cheap mirror. Daniel grabbed Thomas’s wrist, smashing it against the doorframe, trying to dislodge the weapon.
"Emily, run!" Daniel shouted over the struggle.
But the door was blocked. Thomas shoved his knee into Daniel’s stomach, winding him, and threw the billionaire onto the small coffee table, shattering it. Thomas stumbled backward into the hallway, raising the gun again.
Suddenly, a loud hissing sound filled the air.
Thomas had knocked over the apartment’s ancient, rusted gas heater. The pipe had ruptured. The heavy stench of natural gas flooded the tiny room.
Thomas froze in the hallway. He looked at the gun in his hand. If he fired a shot now, the muzzle flash would ignite the gas. The entire floor would detonate.
Thomas smiled a cruel, thin smile. He holstered his weapon.
"I don't need a bullet," Thomas said.
He stepped back into the hallway and slammed the heavy metal door shut. Daniel heard the deadbolt click, followed by the sound of a heavy padlock sliding into place on the outside. Thomas had locked them in.
A second later, a piece of burning newspaper was slid under the crack of the door.
The edge of the rug caught fire instantly.
"Goodbye, Daniel," Thomas's voice came muffled through the steel door. Footsteps faded down the stairs.
"Help! Help us!" Emily screamed, pounding her fists against the metal door. The flames were spreading fast, crawling up the cheap wooden trim. The gas leak was making the air toxic, mixing with the thickening black smoke.
Daniel grabbed a wooden chair and smashed it against the window, hoping for a fire escape. But outside was just a sheer four-story drop into a concrete alley, blocked by heavy iron security bars.
They were trapped in a burning box.
"Get low! Cover your mouth!" Daniel ordered, pulling Emily down to the floor where the air was slightly clearer. He coughed, his eyes watering furiously. The heat was becoming unbearable. The gas concentration was climbing. In less than two minutes, the room would explode.
Emily was coughing violently, crawling toward the corner of the room near the radiator.
"Mr. Blackwood!" she choked out. "The floorboard! Help me!"
Through the smoke, Daniel saw her tearing at a loose piece of hardwood flooring beneath the radiator. He crawled over, his lungs burning. Together, they pried the rotting wood up.
Beneath it was a small cavity. Sitting in the dust was a heavy, soot-stained metal firebox.
"Rebecca told me," Emily gasped, tears streaming down her soot-stained face. "She told me if I was ever in terrible danger, I should open the floor. She said she left me a way out."
Daniel smashed the rusty lock of the firebox with the heel of his shoe.
He threw the lid open, expecting a weapon, a map, or a phone.
Instead, he found a heavy iron key. And a handwritten note.
The building manager was my friend. This unlocks the basement freight elevator. It leads down into the old subway tunnels. Run, Emily. Run.
Daniel stared at the key. It was useless. They were on the fourth floor, locked in a burning room.
But Emily wasn't looking at the key. She was reaching deeper into the firebox, pulling out something wrapped in velvet.
She unwrapped it.
Daniel’s heart stopped.
It was a gun. But not just any gun. It was a custom-engraved silver revolver.
"That's my gun," Daniel whispered in shock. "I kept it in my home office safe. How did Rebecca get it?"
"I don't know," Emily coughed. "But she said it only had one bullet."
The flames were licking the ceiling now. The gas hiss was deafening. They had seconds left before the spark hit the main gas line.
Daniel grabbed the heavy iron key and the silver revolver. He looked at the heavy padlock mechanism on the outside of the door, visible through a small gap in the frame.
One bullet. A massive gas leak. If he fired, the room might explode. If he didn't, they would burn alive.
Daniel looked at his daughter. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight.
"Hide in the closet and cover your ears," he ordered.
May you like
As Emily scrambled into the closet, Daniel aimed his own stolen gun at the heavy steel deadbolt, praying the metal would break before the air ignited.
He pulled the trigger.
