Page 8 of Silver Fire

“What? The kitchen is on fire!”

“Hopefully, not all of it. When we run back, get as many kitchen towels as you can gather. I’ll get the water running.”

They dashed back to the kitchen. The gunfire had ceased; their assailants were going to let the fire do its work. Maia turned the tap on while Sophie dumped towels into the sink. The fire had ravaged the wall on the opposite side of the huge pantry. It was rapidly licking its way across the kitchen. Maia heaved the trapdoor open as Sophie got in. She followed behind her, letting the trap door fall shut as she began lining the seam with wet towels, keeping some for themselves to cover their faces. She led Sophie to the far end of the underground space and as the inferno blazed upstairs, Maia prayed they could wait it out until help arrived.

* * *

It wastwenty minutes before 5:00 p.m. when Jack loaded the suitcases into the trunk of the Escalade. His phone buzzed and he frowned when he recognized Viktor’s number.

“McCord.”

“Maia’s phone went off the grid, have you talked to her recently?”

“Four hours ago. She should be at Leroux’s residence. I’m heading there right now,” Jack replied as he tried to quell the panic in his gut. There was a simple explanation for this. He glanced at Derek, who understood what he wanted, getting immediately into the passenger side. Jack sat in the driver’s seat and started the car; his friend started messing around with the police band. “Could it be poor reception?”

“It doesn’t work that way, Jack,” Victor replied.

“Of course,” Jack muttered. “Well, let me know if you hear anything. I should be at Leroux’s in twenty minutes.”

“I’m not getting anything from the police scanners,” Derek informed him.

When the SUV left the underground parking, he immediately punched Maia’s number. Sure enough, it went straight to the standard message of a subscriber not in service. The last time this had happened, Maia’s smartphone had plunged into the Atlantic Ocean. Tension crept up the back of his neck like setting concrete. Everything was fine. He was just overreacting.

Regardless of what he had concluded, Jack’s foot felt like lead on the gas pedal. They flew past an intersection before getting on the ramp leading to the main highway. Unfortunately, rush hour had started. Jack cursed as he weaved the car through the infernal DC traffic.

Derek was quiet beside him, which meant his friend was just as worried as he was. Damn it. He hit the speed dial again. Same message.

“Fuck!” Jack cursed. “Why is everyone driving so slow!” He slammed his palm on the steering wheel. His phone buzzed. It was Tim Burns from the AGS datacenter.

“McCord.”

“There’s a fire in the Rosewood Heights neighborhood. It’s been identified as the residence belonging to Dr. Sophie Marie Leroux.”

“Thanks, Tim,” Jack said, his voice surprisingly calm. He maneuvered the Escalade through a sea of honking vehicles, taking short cuts from the shoulder and cutting in sharply into other cars. If a cop decided to stop him, he would just have to follow him all the way to Rosewood Heights, because he had no intention of pulling over.

Emergency response vehicleswere flying past Jack’s SUV at an alarming rate. He could see the smoke from a distance. If Maia was okay, why hadn’t she called him? As soon as Jack turned into Rosewood Heights, he could see the bedlam of flashing lights, police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks. The fire in the house was under control, but what made Jack’s gut seize was the sight of Maia’s car—burned and charred. Whatever doubt remained that the fire had been an accident vanished. The Escalade screeched to a halt behind an ambulance and he ignored Derek’s yell as he bolted from the SUV, charging into the gathering of emergency responders.

“Sir, you cannot be here!” A police officer intercepted him, a second cop appearing as backup, ready to take Jack on if he became uncontrollable.

“That’s my wife’s car,” Jack said furiously, pointing to the remnants of the Mercedes Benz. He was struggling to keep his panic in check. “She was with the owner of the house. Where are they?”

Jack hated the look of sympathy crossing the officer’s eyes.Maia is not dead, damn it.

“Steve,” the officer barked through his shoulder radio. “There’s a gentleman here who’s asking for survivors in that house. Any news?”

“Negative. The house was empty when we got here. But we found hundreds of casings from assault-rifle rounds.” A voice crackled over the radio.

“Shit.” The officer’s eyes widened, looking warily at Jack, who was getting ready to go ballistic. The police officer addressed Derek. “Is your friend going to keep it together?”

Jack knew his face was a picture of frustration and anguish, so he turned away from the police officers and took a couple of steps away from the fiery scene. He bent over, resting his hands on his thighs and taking deep calming breaths. His insides were churning and a roar was threatening to tear out from his throat.

He felt Derek’s hand on his back.

“She’s okay. She’s okay,” Jack whispered over and over.

* * *

Derek stared at his friend,who was leaning against the hood of the Escalade. Waiting for news was torture. Viktor had called twice in eight minutes. The AGS top man couldn’t get away because he was running point on a mission from headquarters. How he could concentrate on leading a mission, while calling every freaking minute, was lost on him. Besides, Viktor was just causing more tension and Jack was a hair trigger away from losing it.

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