The Glass Inferno

CHAPTER 63

The smoke in the Promenade Room was getting thicker Fifty or so tenants were buddied in a corner, near one of the windows. Someone had managed to break out the thick glass with a chair and there was some ventilation, but the wind outside was coming from the opposite direction. Only an occasional gust blew in through the shattered pane.

Douglas watched as Quinn moved among the tenants trying to reassure them, but her words seemed to be having less effect. Several of the women were in hysterics and their husbands were close to it.

Douglas was seized with a sudden attack of coughing.

He managed to gain control as Quinn walked over and said quietly, “We can’t stay here much longer.” ‘ Douglas loosened his collar.

Despite the broken window, it was appreciably warmer in the room.

“I know, Quinn.” He thought for a moment. “What about the penthouse?

Is there a way over to it?”

“There’s a staircase hidden just off the corridor to the kitchen.

It made it easy for anybody who was renting it to take an elevator up here, then slip into the corridor and walk up.”

Jesus. had come up behind them and heard part of the conversation.

He shook his head. “No way, man. I been looking around and if it joins the same staircase, it’s solid smoke. You ain’t gonna get these people to go over there.” He turned as Albina, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, hobbled over to him and mumbled some-.

thing in Spanish. Jesus’ face turned grave. “Mama’s not feeling well; says her leg hurts and she’s getting sick to her stomach.”

“I I think we all are,” Quinn said.

Douglas watched Jesus for a moment, who was huddled with his arm around his mother. It had taken Albina a long time to find her son, he thought. And for him to find his mother. He turned back to Quinn.

“There’s only one way to go, Quinn-up to the roof. we’ll have to take them up through the trapdoor.”

“It’s an iceberg up there!” Quinn protested. “Ten minutes and we’ll be suffering from exposure!” Douglas spread his hands helplessly.

“We can stay here, Quinn, but if we do, we’ll die from smoke inhalation-or worse.” He pointed at the rear stairwells, hidden around the corner from the foyer. Heavy smoke. started to drift up from down below and every few seconds there was the dull reflection of flames.

“If we go up to the roof at least we’ll live a little longer. And if it’s a choice between freezing to death or burning to death, at least freezing is pleasanter.”

She nodded. “All right. Is there anything I can do?”

“Gather up all the tablecloths, the coats in the cloakroom, aprons in the kitchen-anything that might serve as a windbreak. We’ll pass them out among the tenants, then help them onto the roof.”

Quinn shook her head. “I doubt they’ll follow you, Mr. Douglas.”

Douglas pointed at the stairwell behind her. She turned and could see the occasional lick of flames. “They can argue, Quinn, but after five minutes or so, the argument will be strictly academic.” He turned to Jesus. “Help her gather up the tablecloths, Jesus-and look for anything that’s heavy plastic; it’ll help against the wind.”

“Sure, man,” Jesus said and followed Quinn to the checkroom.

Douglas walked over to the group of tenants, who had been intently watching his conversation with Quinn. “The restaurant’s getting too filled with smoke and the fire’s about five minutes away,” he began without preamble.

“We’re going to have to go up to the roof ‘ “

“In the snow and that wind?” a man demanded.

“You’re out of your mind!”

‘Miss Reynolds is getting coats and tablecloths and anything else that might help ward off the wind.”

Somebody laughed. “A tablecloth up there? What are we going to do, dine out?”

The first man said: “I’m not going anyplace, buddy.

When I see the fire, that will be time enough.”

“When you see the fire, it will be past time,” Douglas said quietly.

“The only way to the roof is up a ladder in the kitchen. Once the fire gets here, there’s no way in the world all of us could make it up the ladder in time.”

There was silence then. “Can I help Miss Reynolds?”

a pale-looking teenager asked. Douglas recognized him as the boy who had drunk too much wine earlier in the evening.

“She’d appreciate that; she’s in the cloakroom.”

“What happens when we get to the roof?” a woman asked sarcastically.

Quick change, Douglas thought; she had been having hysterics a few moments before. And then he realized that unless he lied, few of them would leave. But there was always the chance that it might not be a complete lie.

“The only way to get us off is by helicopters,” Douglas said smoothly, remembering the small K.Y.S-TV news helicopter and the little girl.

“When they land, we’ll have to be up there waiting. It’ll be a little late to try and scramble up the ladder from the kitchen then-provided you haven’t passed out from the smoke or been burned to death.”

“Look, Mac, I’m not going!”

Douglas smiled grimly. “Suit yourself, I can’t force you. You’ve got about five minutes before the fire hits this floor.” He turned and walked toward the checkroom, most of the tenants trailing after him.

He could hear the man and his wife argue whether or not they were going to go up to the roof. They’d go all right, he thought.

At the checkroom, Quinn and the young diner were handing out coats, tablecloths, and plastic table liners.

From somewhere Quinn had found several thick blankets and had cut them roughly into two. “Follow Miss Reynolds into the kitchen-she’ll show you the ladder and trapdoor leading to the-roof.” Most of the tenants lined up silently and followed her into the kitchen hallway.

Douglas looked around. Albina was still sitting in a chair; Jesus came out of the checkroom with a fur coat and wrapped her in it. Well, he could hardly blame him, Douglas thought. He looked at the fur.

“Looks like a good fox,” he said noncommittally.

“Nab,” Jesus sneered, “synthetic-but a nice one.”

“How can you tell?” Douglas asked curiously.

Jesus laughed. “Just something I picked up, man. If it was the real thing you could feel where they sewed the skins together underneath the lining. And you take a good look at the quality of the tailoring-the buttonholes and how they sew the buttons on, the details, that sort of thing. It’s like cars, the more expensive they are, the better built they are. They got cheap customers up here; this was the best coat in the whole room.”

Boosting, Douglas thought. Jesus had his talents, all right.

He turned for one last look around the dining room. It was empty-no, it wasn’t. Not quite. At a far table, an elderly man was sitting by himself staring out at the flakes of snow swirling down.

Douglas hurried over. “Mr. Claiborne? It’s time to leave.”

Harlee Claiborne didn’t move and Douglas could see his eyes were bright with tears. “I thought I’d wait until Lisolette came back,” he said. “I’ll have to tell her where you’ve all gone.”

Douglas stood there and searched his mind for the right thing to say.

Finally he said, “Do you think Miss Mueller would want you to wait?”

Claiborne thought about it for a long moment, then got to his feet, shaking slightly. “No, I guess she wouldn’t,” he said in a sad voice.

He followed Douglas toward the kitchen hallway.

Douglas noticed that just before he left the dining room, Claiborne took the carnation out of his buttonhole and dropped it on the floor behind him.

Douglas pretended that he hadn’t seen.