Gun of Ashes

Chapter 10: Chapter 5 Dear Winchester

Eve felt herself caught in this man’s rhythm, propping the iron cabinet onto the iron shelf. He tested the pulley, which was fairly smooth.

”What do you want to do?”

”Escape.”

Tearing down the white coat hanging in the corner, Lorenzo used it to fix the two together.

”We won’t get out just by running. The fire will ignite your clothes first, the temperature will melt your eyes, then in one panicked breath, the scalding air will rush into your airway and then your lungs. Think about it, detective, that feeling is no different from swallowing hot coals alive.”

Lorenzo described that haunting death, then moved the assembled iron cart to the wall.

”So we need this thing, like skateboarding to dash out. I remember the route we came, it’s a straight line.”

He pointed inside the ominous iron cabinet and waved his hand.

”Ladies first.”

Eve was a little dumbfounded.

”You want me to squeeze in there with you?”

She began to pray that no one at home would find out about today. Being alone in a room with a strange man...even if it was a morgue, would be enough to make her dad freak out, not to mention such a small...iron cabinet.

”We need some inertia to rush out, or we’ll stop midway in the sea of flames, like two roasted pigs. You know what I mean, right?”

Compared to what Eve was thinking, Lorenzo was more concerned about his own life.

...

First, it was the steam pipe explosion, then the fire. The flames spread towards the morgue, and it seemed no one was injured, but it still troubled Pres.

Among all this, he was looking for Eve, who had disappeared since earlier. She was enthusiastic about cases and such, but now she was not around.

Pres thought this might be the real Eve. Her previous self was just pretending. But then another thought arose...maybe she was at the center of the event? Like in the morgue.

That poor kid!

Pres panicked instantly, but at that moment, the steel chariot burst from the burning corridor. Before Lorenzo could stop, he leaped out, and then the hot chariot with Eve inside crashed into the wall.

Fortunately, they were thickly dressed, Lorenzo only broke out in a sweat. But he had no time to rest, his gaze swept back and forth in the crowd as if searching for something.

To hide Wol’s body, setting fire to the hospital, knowing it was a key place under Suyalan Hall’s care. Clearly, the other party was very persistent about this matter. They wouldn’t leave after setting the fire; they needed to ensure no one survived.

Someone was in a corner, waiting quietly for the fire to extinguish.

What will you do now?

Lorenzo slipped his hand into his pocket. There was a gap, allowing it to reach under his clothes. To others, it seemed like he was just putting his hand in his pocket, but in reality, his finger was already on the trigger.

Now that there are survivors from this fire, what will you do?

The gray-blue eyes reflected every person’s expression as Lorenzo scrutinized them. They were not trained in acting. They would reveal a flaw at some point.

So what will you do? Leave as it is or kill me?

No one would have guessed that the death of a sailor and the hospital’s sudden fire were linked, given their massive value disparity.

Pres exerted much effort to get Eve out of the iron cabinet. She looked disheveled but was gleeful, seemingly oblivious that a moment later, she and Lorenzo would have become barbecue in the sea of fire.

She finally felt the joy of being in her dream career, that urgent and real feeling.

Brushing aside the hair blocking her vision, disregarding her image, she wiped her face with the sleeve and managed to stand up with difficulty.

The scene was chaotic. Being a hospital, while the fire showed no signs of further spreading, it was enough to cause everyone to panic.

Lorenzo watched everything intently.

The crowd would slowly move, and once they saw how the fire was, they would leave. Of course, some who enjoyed watching the commotion stayed put.

Doctor?

There weren’t many white coats among the crowd; most glanced before returning to their posts, and some nurses were also working hard to assist with water and control the fire.

Patients?

Most spectators were family members, but they were merely onlookers, exclaiming and then praying.

Lorenzo shook his head vigorously.

No, my thinking is wrong.

That person would need a safe position. They could retreat into the crowd if needed or stay to see if there were any survivors. He used a large amount of oil to start the fire; no patient or doctor could bring such a large barrel of oil in without being noticed.

The riddle shattered into countless pieces, which Lorenzo picked up and pieced together one by one. The broken mirror was gradually reassembled, revealing its final form.

Lorenzo’s hand tightened around the trigger under his trench coat; he had found the person, the one destined to go unnoticed by everyone.

A janitor was pushing a cart full of oil, pouring it onto the ground, then pretended to mop when no one was nearby before igniting everything.

Yes, no one would notice a janitor, let alone investigate his filthy bucket.

The identity was confirmed, so the location was easily deduced.

Just around the corner ahead of Lorenzo, if he peeked his head, he could see here; stepping back, he could rush into the hall and blend into the crowd.

”Please make way, everyone!”

Lorenzo suppressed the excitement in his veins, moving closer to that position. As Lorenzo left, Eve immediately shouted to Pres.

”There’s something wrong with this man, don’t let him leave!”

Upon hearing this, Pres immediately pulled out his pistol and then shouted loudly.

”Sir, please cooperate!”

Although unclear about what Eve meant, the strange feeling around Lorenzo made him suspicious, as if he had seen Lorenzo somewhere before.

Troublesome person!

Lorenzo cursed under his breath. The next second, he rushed forward into the crowd, well aware of the sharpshooting skills of these detectives; they wouldn’t dare shoot while he was among people.

As Lorenzo ran, the crowd instantly stirred into chaos, terrified of this man emerging from the fire with an eerie excitement—they involuntarily backed away, clearing a path for him.

That man panicked, seeing Lorenzo rapidly approach, causing the janitor to retreat in a panic; once he stepped around the corner and started sprinting, Lorenzo wouldn’t be able to catch him. Amid the large flow of people in the hospital and the approaching guards, Lorenzo would have no other chance.

Thus, the seventh rule from the ”Lorenzo Holmes Detective Code” was needed; Lorenzo always thought his book should be included in textbooks.

If the suspect tries to flee, shoot to break his leg before he escapes your view!

The Winchester suddenly lifted from under the trench coat, and Lorenzo’s hand, always on that trigger, was like a taut string ready to strike.

No one could have imagined the man had a shotgun hidden under his trench coat. The deafening boom made everyone’s eardrums ache, dust flew, and shards scattered. The figure in full flight staggered and fell before even starting.

This was within the Winchester’s effective range. The shot tore through and shattered his calf, and large patches of blood appeared on the ground. There was no time to scream; he could only whimper and continue to crawl on the ground.

Lorenzo wouldn’t let him escape so easily; he released the trigger guard, and the Winchester elegantly spun in the air, ejecting the hot shell as it completed reloading with a delightful clink.

He truly loved this gun.

The shotgun’s grip was short, just the right length to hide under Lorenzo’s coat. Of course, a deeper point was that no one else in the world could have thought of this.

”Don’t run, my friend!”

Lorenzo ran forward, but just then, intense gunfire erupted.

The gunfire came from outside. From the janitor’s angle, he could see the hall, so the people inside could also see him. He wasn’t acting alone; now that the mission failed, his accomplices decided to sacrifice him to conceal everything.

A bullet pierced his skull, and he just lay there rigid in death, filthy blood flowing over the ground.

This wasn’t the end; more intense gunfire pinned Lorenzo down, preventing him from approaching the hall.

Honestly, Lorenzo was growing more curious about what exactly the Silverfish was carrying and what strange things were inside that mysterious iron box.

Taking a deep breath, it was likely these weren’t well-trained soldiers—more like mercenaries, and they probably didn’t have the intellect for coordinated firing, so this barrage without pause would inevitably have a break.

Just as Lorenzo anticipated, amidst the wails of the crowd, a gap appeared in the gunfire.

This was a fatal mistake; any army’s essential lesson is to teach them alternating fire—some shooting, others reloading, to create a sustained suppressive fire.

In that precious gap, the great detective leapt out.

The Winchester roared, the black powder’s scent lingered, more intoxicating than any hallucinogen.

The dense shots shredded a man’s chest, blood sprayed from his back, and the impact blew his body backward.

Expected a certain level of retaliation but met none.

They weren’t reloading; they were retreating.

Here’s where Lorenzo erred. When the fire broke out, reinforcements from Suyalan Hall were already en route. With the speed of those mounted police, they would arrive within ten minutes. They didn’t want to prolong the fight—once the mounted police arrived, they would lose control of the situation.

Outside the hall, horses neighed, then faded with rapid hoofbeats.

Lorenzo was slow, barging through the crowd, stepping over dead bodies in pursuit, more gunfire greeting him. Luckily, it was just to intimidate Lorenzo without aiming.

But at this moment, those people had achieved their goal, and Lorenzo couldn’t catch up; he could only watch them gallop away on horseback. Lorenzo was nothing but an ordinary man, and he couldn’t chase down those damned guys.

Amidst this desperate moment, a loud whistle blew, as if heaven had lent a helping hand, rapidly approaching within Lorenzo’s sight—traffic lights turning red to clear its path.

The Iron Serpent exhaled steam like white mist, roaring down the track.