“Who is it, Angelo?” Paul demanded. His patch was still in place over his operated eye.
“It’s Lou Soldano,” Angelo said. “He was about to use his radio.”
“Lou?” Cerino echoed. “What are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye on you,” Lou said. Looking at Laurie, he asked, “Are you all right?”
Laurie shook her head. “As well as can be expected,” she said through tears.
Angelo grabbed a chair and set it next to Laurie’s. “Sit down!” he barked.
Lou sat down, his eyes glued to Laurie. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
“Travino,” Paul said angrily, “this whole affair is getting too complicated. You and your big ideas.” Then to Angelo he said: “Get someone outside to make sure Soldano was alone. And get rid of his car. To be on the safe side let’s assume he had a chance to call in before we got him.”
Angelo snapped his fingers at several of the low-level hoodlums who’d accompanied Paul. The men immediately left the office.
“Want me to take care of the detective?” Tony asked.
Paul waved him away. “The fact that he is here means he knows more than he ought to know,” he said. “He’s going on the cruise, too. We’ll have to talk with him just like we have to talk with the girl. But for the moment let’s get them on the Montego Bay quickly. I’d prefer if the crew saw as little as possible. What do you suggest?”
“Gas!” Angelo said.
“Good idea,” Paul said. “Tony, you’re on.”
Tony leaped at the opportunity to prove himself in Paul’s presence. He got out a couple of plastic bags and the gas cylinder. As soon as he had the first bag inflated, he tied it off and started on the second while the first slowly floated toward the ceiling.
One of the hoodlums came back and reported that no one else was around and that Soldano’s car had been taken care of.
A sudden vibrating blast from the Montego Bay’s ship’s horn made everybody jump. The ship was just on the other side of the uninsulated wall of the office. Paul cursed.
Tony had let go of the second bag and some of the gas escaped into the room.
“Is that stuff bad for us?” Cerino questioned, smelling the gas.
“No,” Dr. Travino said.
In the confusion, Laurie turned to Lou. “Do you have your cigarettes with you?” she asked.
Lou looked at her as if he’d not heard correctly. “What are you talking about?”
“Your cigarettes,” she repeated. “Give them to me.”
Lou reached into his jacket pocket. As he was about to pull out his hand, another hand grabbed his wrist. It was the hoodlum who’d reported on his car.
The thug glared at Lou and pulled Lou’s hand from his jacket. When he saw that Lou was only holding a pack of cigarettes with matches under the cellophane, he let go of Lou’s arm and stepped back.
Still baffled, Lou handed the cigarettes to Laurie.
“Are you alone?” Laurie asked in a whisper.
“Unfortunately,” Lou whispered back. He tried to smile at the thug who’d grabbed his wrist. The man was still glaring at him.
“I want you to have a cigarette,” Laurie said.
“I’m sorry,” Lou said. “I’m not interested in smoking at the moment.”
“Take it!” Laurie snapped.
Lou looked at her in bewilderment. “All right!” he said. “Whatever you say.”
Laurie took one of the cigarettes out of the pack and stuck it into Lou’s mouth. Then she slipped out the matches. Tearing out a match, she glanced up at the hoodlum who was watching them so intently. His expression hadn’t changed.
Laurie shielded the match and struck it. Lou leaned toward her with the cigarette between his lips. But Laurie didn’t light it. Instead she used the match to fire the entire pack of matches. Once the pack started to flare, she tossed it toward Tony and his plastic bags. In the same motion she fell sideways off her chair, tackling a surprised Lou in the process. Together they fell to the floor.
The resulting explosion was severe, especially around Tony and upwards toward the ceiling, where the escaped ethylene had layered and the second bag had positioned itself. The concussion of the blast blew out all the office windows as well as the door and all the overhead lights, sparing only a lamp on the desk. Tony was consumed by the fireball. Angelo was thrown against the wall, where he sagged to a sitting position, his eardrums blown out. His hair was singed to his scalp, and he suffered some internal damage to his lungs. All the others were knocked momentarily senseless to the floor and superficially burned. A few managed to push themselves up on all fours, groaning and totally befuddled.
On the floor, Laurie and Lou were relatively spared, having been below any of the layered ethylene, although both had suffered some minor burns and mild ear damage from the severe deflagration. Laurie opened her eyes and released her grip around Lou’s middle.
“Are you all right?” she questioned. Her ears were ringing.
“What the hell happened?” Lou said.
Laurie scrambled to her feet. She pulled Lou’s arm to get him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here!” she said. “I’ll explain it later.”
Together they stepped around and over moaning people strewn about the floor. They coughed in the acrid smoke.
Beyond the blown-out door of the office, their feet crunched over shattered glass. Down the corridor of bananas, they saw a flashlight bobbing in the dark. Someone was running toward them.
Lou yanked Laurie laterally away from the office in the direction from which he’d originally come. As they huddled behind a stack of bananas, the running footfalls drew closer. Soon another one of Cerino’s thugs stood gasping at the threshold of the office. For a moment he stood there with his mouth open in amazement. Then he went to his boss’s aid. Paul was sitting on the floor in front of the desk, holding his head.
“This is our chance,” Lou whispered. He held on to Laurie as they worked their way back toward the entrance of the warehouse. The going was slow because of the dark and the fact that they wanted to stay away from the main corridor in case there were other Cerino people in the area.
It took them almost ten minutes before they could see the vague outline of the opening of the overhead door. In front of it was the black silhouette of the morgue van. It was still parked where it had been when Lou had entered.
“My car is probably gone,” Lou whispered. “Let’s see if the keys are in the van.”
They approached the van cautiously. Opening the driver’s side door, Lou felt along the steering column. His fingers hit the keys, still dangling from the ignition.
“Thank God,” he said. “They’re here. Get in!”
Laurie climbed in the passenger side. Lou was already behind the wheel.
“As soon as I start this thing,” Lou whispered urgently, “we’re out of here fast. But we might not be in the clear. There might be some shooting, so how about you going in the back and lying down.”
“Just start the van!” Laurie said.
“Come on,” Lou said. “Don’t argue.”
“You’re the one who’s arguing,” Laurie snapped. “Let’s go!”
“Nobody’s going nowhere!” a voice said to Lou’s left.
With a sinking feeling, Laurie and Lou looked out the window on Lou’s side. A number of faceless men in hats were standing in the dark. A flashlight snapped on and played over Lou’s face, then over Laurie’s. They each blinked in its glare.
“Out of the truck,” the same voice ordered. “Both of you.”
With hopes dashed, Laurie and Lou climbed back out of the van. They could not see the men for the bright light shining at them, but there seemed to be three.
“Back to the office,” the same voice commanded.
Discouraged, Laurie and Lou led the way back. Neither of them said a word. Neither wanted to think about Cerino’s fury.
The scene at the office was still chaotic. Smoke still hung heavily in the air. One of Cerino’s goons had helped his boss into the desk chair. Angelo was still sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He looked confused, and a trickle of blood was dripping down his chin from the corner of his mouth.