‘You’re damn right,’ snarled Timi. ‘Now, tell the camera — what’s going on in Coober Pedy?’
The major looked at his captor. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. ‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that.’
Bo gave a sob and buried her face in Amy’s shoulder. Amy put an arm around her and looked at the major, pleading: ‘Just tell him, for pity’s sake!’
The janitor’s room was small and windowless — it was really just a large cupboard. The only light came from a row of glass bricks in the top of the wall and there was no ventilation.
Bel rattled the door handle, but there was something against the door stopping the handle from turning all the way.
Then she realized that she could smell smoke — it was drifting in under the door.
So it wasn’t a fire drill. Bel felt herself starting to panic, but her iron will took control just in time. After a minute of shouting at the top of her voice she slumped against the door, exhausted.
The fire alarm continued to ring and she could hear sirens. A lot of sirens.
Were all those fire engines for this one building? What on earth had happened?
A sturdy broom was propped up inside the door. She pulled the head off it so that she was left with a long wooden pole. She slipped the pole under the door and wiggled it around. She felt it hit something but she couldn’t tell what it was. Bashing it a couple of times failed to dislodge it.
Pulling the broom handle back in, she looked around the room for inspiration. Was there anything else she could use? The room contained a table with a kettle, some mugs and a portable CD player.
Bel picked up the CD player and snapped it open. Inside was a disc. She hurried back to the door and slipped her hand underneath, angling the shiny side of the disc. The image wasn’t as clear as a mirror but it was just enough to show her why the door wouldn’t open. The Oz Protectors had wedged a chair under the handle.
Bel felt a flash of anger. They’d locked her in and left her to burn. When she got out somebody was going to pay.
She pulled the CD back in, pushed the pole out against one of the chair legs and levered the chair out of the way. There was a clattering noise, then she found she could turn the handle and the door opened.
The corridor was hazy with smoke.
‘Hello?’ called Bel. Smoke caught her throat and she started coughing. She couldn’t hear anything over the screaming alarm.
She had to get out, but which way? This backstage part of the building was a warren of narrow corridors and staircases and she didn’t know the layout.
The smoke was blowing in from the right. To the left was a glowing FIRE EXIT sign over a door. Bel hurried over to it and seized the handle. It was hot but she pulled it open anyway.
The other side was a thick veil of smoke and a red glow, like burning coals. Air rushed in from the open door and in moments bright orange flames were leaping out at her.
Bel turned and raced back down the corridor, nearly falling over in her strappy sandals. ‘Doc Martens next time,’ she told herself.
Flames roared out of the room and pursued her, travelling fast as they took hold of the polystyrene ceiling tiles.
Seeing another door ahead of her, she peered through the glass and spotted a staircase leading up. Should she go upwards? Wouldn’t it be better to find a way out on the ground floor?
Then she noticed fumes curling in wisps from the ceiling tiles further along. She wasn’t a materials scientist, but she guessed the fumes were toxic. And they seemed heavier than air. Going up was probably the only option if she wanted to avoid being poisoned.
She took the stairs two at a time and came out in another corridor. She ran down to the end and emerged on the upstairs gallery, where big windows looked out onto a paved area and shops beyond.
For a moment she thought she was seeing things. The street outside was shrouded in a thick fog of smoke. Shapes moved around in it. Some were people, some were emergency vehicles. She could see pockets of orange flame and flashes of blue light. Several other buildings in the street seemed to be on fire. It looked more like War of the Worlds than the Adelaide business district.
She ran over to a window and hammered on the glass. Surely someone would look up from the street and see her. No one did. She examined the window frames, but they were solid and could not be opened. Bel whirled round, looking desperately for another way out, and saw a fire exit sign by the refreshment bar. She ran across and seized the handle. It burned her palm.
She backed away. She knew now what that meant: fire on the other side of the door.
There must be another fire exit, she thought. Then she saw the sign for the ladies’ toilet. That was bound to have an outside window for ventilation. The handle wasn’t hot so she pushed through the two sets of swing doors—
Only to find that there were no windows. Just an electric extractor fan.
She came back out again and saw another fire exit sign pointing to the stock room behind the refreshment bar. As she made her way through, the first thing that hit her was a smell of roasting. Along one wall boxes of crisps smouldered: they had set fire to the curtain at the end, but beyond that was a long window with a door leading out to a balcony.
Bel was about to make a dash for it when she realized that the carpet tiles were smoking. Her shoes were too flimsy to protect her if she ran across.
She grabbed a blue fire extinguisher off the wall and showered the carpet tiles with white powder. But the fat in the crisps had melted the plastic wrappers and soaked into the cardboard and the carpet tiles and was keeping them burning. She emptied the entire extinguisher over the floor but the heat was still too intense. The carpet tiles were starting to bubble as the rubber underneath melted. Bel threw down the extinguisher in despair.
Then she realized that she could still reach the other end of the window. Maybe there was another opening there.
But she found only a big expanse of glass. The only exit door was behind the burning curtain.
Bel ran back and retrieved the extinguisher. Even empty, it was as heavy as a dumb-bell. She held it like a baseball bat and whacked the glass nearest to her with all her strength. The window turned frosty and shattered, and she stumbled out, her feet skidding on nuggets of glass.
She ran along the balcony and down a fire escape to the street. She was out.
But maybe not safe yet. The street was full of smoke and teeming with firefighters and emergency vehicles. All the buildings she could see were on fire. Flames ringed the whole area, sending a tunnel of smoke up into the sky.
As she emerged, a firefighter approached her — a young woman with oriental features and smudged stripes on her face. She looked astonished to see Bel. ‘Where did you come from?’
Bel indicated the broken window. ‘In case of emergency, break the glass.’ She looked around. The only people she could see were firefighters. She felt disorientated and alone. ‘Where are all the delegates from the conference?’
Wanasri pointed down the road. ‘They were evacuated to the green.’
‘Maybe not all of them,’ said Bel. ‘I was with an American army officer and some protestors. We were right at the back of the building.’
‘Then they could still be trapped inside.’ Wanasri turned to a burly firefighter beside her. ‘Darren, we’d better get a crew into this building before the roof caves in.’
Chapter Twelve
Kelly looked over the instruments. She checked the height, the windspeed and their bearing, then sat back. ‘We’re going steadily and conditions seem to be good. I could use some first aid. You can let go of the controls.’
Cautiously, Ben let go of the stick and the throttle. ‘How long can I leave them for?’