Lynn’s fingers bent into claws. She lashed out, drawing a bloody trail across Donoghue’s cheek. Before Chuck could recover from his amazement, she was at the stairs, jumped down and disappeared into the floor below.
‘Lynn!’ cried Tim.
‘No, wait! Please wait!’
Kokoschka watched in horror as young Orley dashed after his crazed sister. Stay here, he thought. Not again, I’ve got to give you—
‘Sophie told me to give you…’
Too late. Run after him? But the general madness required its tribute, so that he had to look on helplessly as Chuck raged at the hotel manager and stormed after her, holding the oxygen candle menacingly aloft. Storms raged inside his head, down-draughts, plunging temperatures, tornadoes, accumulated fear. Something terrible would happen. His thoughts danced around like faded leaves, blown in all directions by gusts of confusion. Every time he tried to catch them, they whirled away, while he impotently turned and turned. What was he to do? At last he caught one of those leaves, it flapped and fluttered, trying desperately to escape: that whatever Sophie had written on that piece of paper would explain the escalation that was going on in front of his eyes, that the piece of paper would tell him what he needed to do, that perhaps, seeing as how he hadn’t managed to carry out his mission, he ought to read it.
Fingers trembling, he unfolded the piece of paper.
At that moment, Dana sensed the change. Her whole body reacted. All the hairs on her forearms registered the disaster. Voices reached her from the restaurant. The tumult must have reached the upper floors, and some people were coming down to see what had happened, while Axel’s statue-like face sent out waves of disbelief and fury.
Dana slowly turned her head towards him.
The chef stared at her, a piece of paper in his left hand. His right hand slowly rose, an index finger raised in accusation. Dana took the paper from him and glanced at the words scribbled on it.
‘Rubbish,’ she said.
‘No.’ Kokoschka came closer. ‘No, not rubbish. She found out. She found out!’
‘Who found out what?’ barked Donoghue.
‘Sophie.’ Kokoschka’s finger twitched; an eyeless, sniffing creature, it swung around and rested on Dana. ‘She’s the one. Not Lynn. It’s her!’
‘You’ve been spending too much time at the oven.’ Dana stepped back. ‘Your brain’s overcooked, you great idiot.’
‘No.’ Kokoschka’s massive form started moving, a Frankenstein’s monster taking its first steps. ‘She paralysed the communications. She wants to blow us all up! She’s the one! Dana Lawrence!’
‘You’re mad!’
‘Oh, really?’ Donoghue’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘I think we can find that one out pretty quickly.’ He picked up the oxygen cartridge and approached her from the other side. ‘I remember this great joke where—’
Dana reached into her hip pocket, drew a gun and pointed it at Donoghue’s head.
‘Here comes the punchline,’ she said, and squeezed the trigger.
Donoghue stopped dead. Brain matter spilled from the hole in his forehead, a trickle of blood ran between his eyebrows and along the bridge of his nose. The candle slipped from his hands. Aileen’s mouth gaped, and an unearthly wail issued from it. Dana was just swinging the gun around, when the doors of E2 opened and Ashwini Anand stepped out, impelled into the lion’s den by her fear of being late. The bullet struck the Indian woman before she had a chance to grasp the situation. She slumped to the ground, blocking the lift door, but her unexpected arrival had lost Dana valuable seconds, which Kokoschka exploited to go on the attack. She took aim at him and at the same moment she was attacked by Aileen, who leapt at her, grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. Aileen was still uninterruptedly wailing, a ghostly funeral lament. Dana reached behind her, trying to shake Aileen off and Kokoschka grabbed her wrist and she managed to knee him in the testicles, before firing off two shots. The chef bent double, but he managed to knock the gun from Dana’s fingers. She struck him in the throat with the edge of her hand, and shook the Fury from her back with a roll of her shoulders. Almost gracefully, Aileen sailed against her husband, who was still standing, and dragged him down with her. Kokoschka was crawling along the floor on all fours. Dana kicked him in the chest, just as she heard a metallic hiss that didn’t bode well.
The bulkheads were closing.
She stared at the holes in the wall, where the two stray bullets had struck.
The tanks! They must have hit one of the hidden tanks. Compressed oxygen was bursting out, raising the partial pressure and causing the sensors to close off access to the levels above and below. It wasn’t impossible that the external cooling pipe had been hit, releasing toxic, inflammable ammonia.
She was in a bomb.
She had to get out of here!
The invisible gas settled on the wildly flailing Aileen, on Chuck’s corpse, streamed into the open lift, whose doors were blocked by Anand’s dead body. Kokoschka’s eyes widened. Gurgling, he got to his feet and stretched out both arms towards Dana. She paid him no attention and ran off. The doors were closing at worrying speed. With one bound she reached the entrance to the suites, jumped and just managed to get past the bulkhead from Gaia’s neck, somersaulted down the stairs and landed on her back.
Kokoschka came after her. Properly trained, he knew the potentially disastrous effect of an uncontrolled release of oxygen. Desperate to get out in time, he followed Dana to the bulkhead, but didn’t get all the way through. He was trapped.
‘No, no, no, no, no…’ he whimpered.
Now he could hear the faint hiss of the escaping oxygen. Terrified, he tried to brace himself against the approaching metal plate. His breath was forced out of him, his organs crushed. He heard one of his lower ribs breaking, saw Aileen kneeling over Chuck’s corpse and burying her face in the crook of his neck. A metallic taste spread through his mouth, and his eyes bulged. He tried to shout, but all he managed was a dying croak.
‘Chuck,’ Aileen whimpered.
There was a not especially loud puffing sound as the oxygen went up. Two glowing spears of fire suddenly thrust from the wall where the bullets had hit, striking Aileen, Chuck’s corpse and Ashwini Anand’s bent body, the walls and the floor. The flames quickly swept along the lift doors, forced their way into the open cabin of the staff lift, like living creatures, fire spirits in orgiastic exuberance. A moment later half of the mezzanine was alight. Kokoschka had never seen a fire raging like that. People said that fires spread more slowly in reduced gravity, but this—
He spewed a stream of blood. The bulkhead pressed relentlessly against his tortured body, and as if the fire had only just noticed him, it reared up to new heights and seemed to pause uncertainly for a moment.
Then it leapt at him hungrily.
Miranda Winter had, with Sushma Nair, set off for the lower floors, once it could no longer be ignored that there were noisy arguments going on down there. On the stairs from Selene to Chang’e, they heard two muffled bangs in quick succession, which anyone who had ever been to the movies would have recognised as pistol shots from a silenced weapon, followed by Aileen’s bloodcurdling howl, then some bell-like chimes, as if a hammer were being struck against metal. Sushma’s expression turned to one of naked fear; Winter, however, was made of sterner stuff, so she beckoned Sushma to wait and approached the passageway through the neck.