Sylvia whimpered then seemed to come to a decision she was happy with. She nodded and helped the dazed inspector to stand. Together they made it out the door, wheezing and coughing.
I headed toward Tommy, but Tate stepped in my way before I reached the bench. Sweat trickled down the edge of his hairline and dripped onto the floor. It was hot in the factory from the growing fire, but bearable, yet he looked as if he were melting.
"I won't give up this easily," he snarled, grabbing a fistful of my hair. I'd lost my hat at some point, and my wild mane had come free of its pins.
He pulled. I winced, but did not cry out. I didn't want to do or say anything that would distract Jack. He was still locked in battle with Ham and couldn't afford to lose his focus. The brute would see the opening and pound him for sure.
But why wasn't Jack using his fire on him?
"Very well," I gasped as my chest constricted with the need to breathe clean air. "I'll do as you ask. Call off your man. Let Jack and Tommy go."
Tate coughed into his shoulder. "No."
"Let them go!"
"Why would I do that?" he had to shout over the sound of wood cracking, and Jack and Ham's grunts and coughs. "It's you I want, not them."
"But Jack's like us! You need him too." The desperation in my voice betrayed me. I would try anything, say anything, to get them free. Flames crept up the legs of the bench on which Tommy lay, flirting with the bench top. He was coughing uncontrollably, trying to twist himself so that he could bury his mouth and nose in his arm to breathe. I had to get him out.
"No, Hannah," Tate said. "You're the only one I need. Only you. He's not like us. You saw."
I didn't know what he was talking about, but there was no time to think. Indeed, thinking had suddenly become very difficult as heat rolled over my skin and smoke filled my chest. Sparks spat from my fingertips and landed near the scorched hole in his waistcoat. Tate casually slapped them out with his hand.
My fury vanished as fear once more took hold. But this time I would keep my wits about me. Tommy's life depended upon it.
Tate went to grab me, and I stepped out of his reach. My bustle hit a table, halting my progress. Tate lunged.
I fumbled behind me, and my fingers touched something solid and long. I picked it up and swung it at his head. It was some kind of tool and it made a very good weapon. Tate crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
"Miss Smith!" Tommy wheezed.
I tore off a piece of my skirt at the hem and tied it around my nose and mouth, then tore off another strip. I removed the chains attached to Tommy's wrists and handed him the cloth. He tied it around the lower half of his face as I unclasped the cuffs at his ankles. The bench had caught alight and Tommy had to leap off before his clothes suffered the same fate.
He wove and ducked his way through the wrecked factory to Jack and Ham. The big fellow bled from the nose, but he didn't look any weaker. He swung at Jack, but Tommy caught his arm. He couldn't stop the momentum completely, but he did slow Ham down enough to allow Jack to punch him hard enough to daze him. Tommy and Jack were able to subdue him between them, but all three coughed violently.
My lungs screamed for fresh air. My chest hurt with the effort to breathe. Smoke made my eyes water and my mouth dry. We had to get out.
"Anyone still alive in here?" someone called from the entrance.
"Coming," I rasped as loudly as I could. Whether I was heard over the roar of the fire, I couldn't tell. Smoke and heat whirled around us. Flames flowed like a river across the ceiling, up the walls, eating everything in its path. A beam fell on the bench on which Tommy had lain, and that section of the roof caved in.
Jack ushered me to the door. He and Tommy held Ham between them, but the thug didn't struggle. I think he wanted to get out of there too. We poured out of the factory and into driving rain just as more of the roof collapsed. Four men relieved Tommy and Jack of Ham. Sylvia caught me in her arms and hugged me.
I could barely hear her soothing words above the shouts and activity of the men. There seemed to be dozens of them, some in uniform with brass helmets, others in plain workmen's clothing. They wrestled with two thick hoses spurting water onto the factory. It wasn't raining after all.
"Did you fetch them?" I managed to rasp out between my coughs.
She nodded and looked over my shoulder. "Tommy, where's Jack?"
I spun round. Tommy was there, bent over and sucking in air. Jack was nowhere to be seen.
"He's gone inside!" I cried. I tried to pull away, but Sylvia held me back and Tommy blocked the way. "I have to go in! He's gone for Tate. Let me go, Sylvia, I can help him!"
"He can do it alone," she said. "Or not at all. I wouldn't care if that villain died in there. Hopefully the smoke will kill him if the fire will not."