Chapter 5 - THE TASTE OF ASH
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.
Julian fired rapidly. His aim was flawless. The heavy 9mm rounds shattered the thick plastic jug of bleach and violently tore open the tub of powdered ammonia. The two industrial chemicals collided across the wet concrete floor.
Within seconds, a thick, violently noxious yellow-green cloud began to rise from the chemical spill.
"Cover your mouth!" Julian ordered, pulling a silk handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it over Harper’s face. He buried his own face in the crook of his elbow.
The mercenaries advancing on the crates ran directly into the expanding gas cloud. The reaction was instantaneous and horrifying. The men dropped their weapons, clawing at their throats, coughing violently as the toxic chloramine gas seared their respiratory tracts. Their eyes watered blindly, their combat effectiveness completely neutralized.
"Move!" Julian roared.
Keeping low to the ground to avoid the rising gas, Julian grabbed Harper’s hand. They sprinted across the concrete floor, dodging blindly firing mercenaries who were choking on the toxic smoke.
They reached the glass-enclosed office. Julian punched a code into the keypad, and the heavy door clicked open.
Inside, Lily was huddled under a desk, her hands clamped over her ears, tears streaming down her face.
"Harper!" Lily cried out as Harper slid under the desk, pulling her little sister into a tight, desperate embrace.
"I've got you, bug, I've got you," Harper whispered frantically, kissing the top of the girl's head.
Julian locked the office door behind them. The glass was airtight, protecting them from the gas outside. He quickly accessed a hidden panel under the floorboards, revealing a dark, narrow escape tunnel.
"It leads to a sewer access point three blocks away," Julian said, his breathing heavy. He looked down at his side. The pristine white shirt beneath his tuxedo jacket was soaked in a rapidly expanding blossom of dark red blood.
He had taken a bullet to the ribs during the sprint.
"You're shot," Harper gasped, her chef's instinct to stop the bleeding kicking in. She reached for a stack of paper towels on a desk.
"Leave it," Julian gritted his teeth, his face pale. "The gas won't hold them forever. Camilla’s men have gas masks in the truck. Go down the hatch."
Harper grabbed Lily’s hand and lowered her into the damp tunnel. She followed, and Julian dropped in last, pulling the heavy floorboard shut above them.
The tunnel was pitch black, smelling of damp earth and rust. Julian clicked on a small tactical flashlight, leading the way. His steps were becoming sluggish, his massive frame leaning heavily against the curved brick wall of the tunnel.
"Julian, you're losing too much blood," Harper said, her voice echoing softly in the dark.
"Keep walking," he commanded, though the gravelly authority in his voice was weakening.
After ten agonizing minutes of wading through ankle-deep water, they reached a rusted iron ladder leading up to a manhole cover. Julian climbed up with agonizing slowness, pushing the heavy iron disc aside.
They emerged into a desolate, rain-slicked alley behind a closed meatpacking plant.
Julian stumbled, finally collapsing against a brick wall, sliding down to the wet asphalt. The flashlight clattered from his grip.
"Julian!" Harper rushed to his side, pressing her hands frantically against the gunshot wound. The blood was warm and flowing too fast.
"In my pocket," Julian wheezed, his head lolling back against the brick. "Car keys. There's a safe house... west side."
Harper dug into his tuxedo pocket, pulling out a set of keys. But as she pulled her hand out, something else caught on her fingers and fell to the wet pavement.
It was a small, perfectly preserved recipe card, laminated to protect it from age.
Harper stared at it in the dim streetlight. It was her mother's handwriting. The recipe for Lemon Ricotta Cake. But it wasn't just a recipe. At the bottom, written in Julian’s sharp, masculine scrawl, was a note:
Protect the daughters. It’s what Evelyn wanted.
Harper’s breath hitched. Julian hadn't just discovered who she was tonight. He had been watching over her. But if he was watching over her, why did he let her get blacklisted? Why did he let her suffer?
Before she could demand an answer, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the end of the alley.
Harper spun around. Stepping out of the shadows, holding a suppressed pistol, was the floor manager from the catering company. The man who had yelled at her to serve the soup.
"Brilliant use of chemicals in the warehouse, Harper," the floor manager sneered, stepping into the dim light. "But you can't outrun the Madam."
He raised the gun, pointing it directly at Lily.
May you like
"No!" Harper screamed, jumping in front of her sister.
The floor manager smiled. "Hand over the recipe card, Harper. The one in Julian's pocket has the cypher for the offshore accounts. Give it to me, and the kid lives."
