The Wrong Girl(66)

"Yes," came her shaking voice.

"Bloody 'ell!" Tommy growled. "Let me go! Fight like a man, you one-armed dog."

I didn't think name-calling was going to achieve much, but I didn't say. I was more worried about the brute squeezing me. I couldn't breathe.

"Easy," Tate said to Ham. "Don't kill her. I need her alive. The other two, however, are unnecessary."

Sylvia sobbed into her folded arms. Tommy's chains rattled violently and he grunted again as he tried to free himself. Ham eased his grip, but he was too big. I couldn't get away. Not by any conventional means anyway.

Get angry, get angry, get angry.

It was useless. I was much too afraid. Tears blurred my vision and dripped down my cheeks. Tommy and Sylvia were going to die because of me, and I would become a prisoner again, this time of Tate's. All because I couldn't call on my temper at will. My fear was much too powerful. I'd once thought myself brave—how wrong I'd been.

A high-pitched grunt had me opening my eyes again, just in time to see Sylvia raising a piece of ceramic pipe above her head.

But Tate had heard her too, and he turned in time to catch the pipe. He wrenched it from her grip as sparks flew from his fingers and shot in all directions. He had no difficulty growing angry.

Sylvia fell back onto her rear, but Tate went after her, holding the pipe like a bat. She screamed and put her hands up. I screamed. Tommy shouted and cursed, his chains rattling furiously. Still Tate descended upon her.

A small light to the right caught my attention. Flames danced atop a piece of broken wood. Tate's sparks must have set it alight. Much of the factory's contents were already burnt to ash, but there was enough left to provide fuel for another fire. Sylvia and Tommy would burn to death, if Tate didn't smash their heads in first.

He'd been distracted by the fire too, but now he turned back to Sylvia. She cowered on the floor near the fallen drawers, her face buried in her arm, her feet pulled up to make herself as small as possible. Huge, gulping sobs wracked her body.

"No," I begged Tate. "No, please don't. I'll do whatever you ask. I'll help you willingly with your research if you leave them unharmed."

"You'll help me anyway. You won't have a choice. I can't leave witnesses." He raised the pipe.

Something bright whooshed past my ear and slammed into his chest. He fell backward, crashing into burnt tables and equipment, splintering wood and sending objects flying. His eyes and mouth widened in shock. I could see his expression clearly thanks to the bright ball of fire that had sent him reeling and now set his waistcoat alight.

I turned to see the source of the fireball just as Ham let me go.

"Jack!" Sylvia cried.

Jack stood in the open doorway, sucking in deep breaths, his fists at his sides as if he would draw holstered guns. Another man stood a little behind him, his mouth ajar as he took in the scene. I was so relieved to see Jack I almost ran up and hugged him. But there was no time for that. Ham lumbered up to him and swung his massive fist. Jack easily ducked it.

"Stop!" the stranger shouted. "I am Inspector Ruxton from Scotland Yard, and I command you stop this at once!"

A policeman. Oh thank God.

But his announcement changed nothing. It was as if he weren't even there. Ham struck out at Jack, but Jack was fast and dodged it. Indeed, he was so fast it was difficult to distinguish his movements. He must have hit Ham because the man tumbled backwards, but not before he landed a punch that Jack hadn't seen coming.

Jack grunted and doubled over. The inspector rushed in and ordered them to stop fighting, but Ham swatted him away like an annoying bee. The inspector fell to the floor near Sylvia, hitting his head on the corner of a steel box, rendering him unconscious.

She checked to see if he still breathed. "He's alive," she said. "Now what do we do?"

Tommy coughed. "Uh, ladies. Perhaps you can free me before the fire comes any closer." He coughed again and pointed his chin at the fire that had spread from those few sparks of Tate's. It was very near him. Too near.

I helped Sylvia to stand. "Get out," I ordered.

"But Tommy!"

"I'll help him." When she hesitated, I pushed her gently. "I can't burn, Sylvia, you can. Now go, and take Inspector Ruxton with you!" He was making noises on the floor and rubbing his head. If she could get him to stand, she might be able to stumble outside with him. "I can't save Tommy unless you're safe."

She glanced at Tommy and the fire, so close to him now that he'd turned his face away from the heat. His body shook with his coughs as the smoke filled the small factory. Breathing was difficult for me too, but not impossible. Not yet.

I might not be able to burn like normal people, but could I die from breathing in the smoke?