From Manhattan With Revenge Boxed Set by Christopher Smith Page B

her hand.
    The next
few minutes were a blur.
    Carmen
placed her hand on Alex arm, giving him the signal.
    Beneath
them on 53rd Street, at the entrance to the parking garage that was directly
below the Pool Room, a car packed with explosives rolled inside and the driver
ran out.  
    Exactly
only minute later, the car exploded just was Leana Redman was about to address
the room.   The explosion shook the
building with such force, it blew out the windows and hurled pieces of jagged
glass into the crowd, cutting them, including Leana, who fell to the ground
just as balls of fire rolled into the room.  
    Those
who were close enough to the far right windows, where the car was parked below,
were scorched by the fire.   People
shielded their faces and staggered back while others either screamed in fear or
because they were hurt.  
    Alex
looked at Laurent, whose own hair had caught fire.   He was spinning like a top near the
windows, his hands batting at his head and trying to put out the flames while
those around him did nothing so they could look out for themselves.   The sound he was making wasn’t
human.   It came from his gut but
somehow, on the way up, it managed to twist itself into a kind of girlish
shriek.  
    The
moment he stopped turning, Alex removed his gun and pointed it at the man’s
head.   Jean-George’s hair no longer
was on fire, but shock was setting in.   When Alex fired, the man’s face took the impact, but it was his head
that released the pressure.   It
exploded onto Leana and Tootie Staunton-Miller thanks to the hollow-point
bullet he used, which expanded when it hit bone.  
    It was
over in an instant, but in that instant, Laurent seemed to stagger, his arms
twitching at his sides while his ruined head let loose a torrent of blood that
fountained toward the ceiling.  
    When he
fell backward, dead, Leana Redman moved away from him and screamed.   Her face was awash with blood, bone and
brain matter.   Her silver dress was
spattered with gore.   The moment
Tootie Staunton-Miller touched her own face, she smeared the clotted glop that
covered it and fainted when she looked down at her hand.   She collapsed on top of Jean-Georges,
her face buried in what was left of his own.  
    A beat
of stunned silence passed before the press gathered themselves and started to
take photographs.   Smoke started to
fill the room from the broken windows.   The glow of the fire raged from below, making the room’s trees appear as
if they were writhing in the shadows cast by the flames.
    Alex
lined Leana up in his sights but a man came beside her and led her away.   He fired, but missed when Carmen slammed
into him thanks to the people shoving and pushing in an effort to escape
through the packed corridor.
    “We need
to get out of here,” Carmen said.   “Now.”
    “Do you
want her dead or not?”
    The
car’s gas tank exploded and more windows blew into the room.   Alex was knocked off balance again just
as the room gave itself over to the pure panic of pandemonium.
    The
place was starting to fill with smoke.   People were shouting, screaming, gagging.   Carmen looked up at the ceiling and saw
the smoke roll above her head and spread into the room.  
    Security
was talking into their cuffs while an avalanche of people raced to the Pool Room’s
exits.   Some fled into the
kitchen.   Others pushed into the
corridor.  
    Alex
looked for Leana and could see her moving toward the exit at the top of the
staircase.   She was one with the
crowd, her head lowered, her dress the giveaway.   He could get her.   He knew he could.   He shrugged off Carmen’s arm just as the
masses reached the emergency exit up the stairs, the door to which wouldn’t
open because it was bolted shut.   Men started to throw their shoulders against it, but it wouldn’t budge.
    “Come
with me,” she said to Alex.   “If
nothing else kills us, it’ll be the smoke.   There’s still time.”
    But
before she could say