As White as Snow (20 page)

Vera Sováková took a few deep breaths and savored the moment. Now it would begin. She had been patiently preparing this media spectacle for a long time now. Adam Havel had approached her years earlier offering an exclusive on the White Family—for a price, of course. Vera thought the story needed something more, though. Together they began planning a tragedy large enough to capture the attention of the whole country.

Vera imagined people falling silent one after another in the cafés and bistros of Prague. Someone tried to continue chatting, but he was shushed instantly. In homes, people watched in amazement as the live news broadcast interrupted their quiz show. Cell phones rang. “Turn on the TV. Something’s happening.”

The screen, which displayed the Super8 logo in the bottom corner, was suddenly full of hand camera footage of an old, run-down house. A matter-of-fact female voice, which some, to their surprise, recognized as the head of Super8, longtime reporter turned chief executive Vera Sováková, related that one of their journalists, Jiři Hašek, had just gained entrance to the house of a dangerous cult, the White Family. His sources told him that the cult was planning a mass suicide, and it was set to happen at any moment. Jiři Hašek had been first on scene and gallantly, braving death, had entered the house in hopes of saving the victims.

Vera felt shivers up her spine imagining all the people glued to their television sets. They would just now be realizing they were watching a true-life drama unfold before their eyes. An unscripted drama that could end in triumph or catastrophe.

A single match would have been enough. Adam Havel wasn’t going to take any risks, though. He hefted the heavy
Molotov cocktail in his hand and hurled it at the window. The glass shattered and the room burst into flames.

Idiots.
They believed Adam when he said he’d make sure they were all in a deep sleep before lighting the fire and shooting himself. He had fulfilled the first part of that promise. He did watch to make sure everyone was out cold. Then he locked the door and went outside. He waited until he saw the stupid reporter break in through the side door.

Adam Havel would have preferred to stay and watch as the ugly old house went up like a torch. As it devoured
these people’s stupidity and credulity. He felt a sort of satisfaction at being able to complete here what he had bungled in Nebraska. This time, he had built his community more patiently, until each and every member trusted him implicitly. Until his stories about cleansing fire lifting their souls directly to a heaven unbelievers could not attain were the truest thing in their lives.

Adam had enjoyed the power he had over them. From time to time, he had even toyed with the idea of letting everything continue as it was. Adam had talked about faith and family so convincingly that sometimes he even started to believe it himself. But shepherding his flock had become increasingly tedious, and he was getting old. The deal with Vera Sováková was the perfect way for him to get out scot-free—and rich.

Adam couldn’t stay to watch the conflagration he had set off. His flight was leaving soon to carry him far away from here with the money from Vera and a brand-new name and passport. It was time to start over with a clean slate. Clean and white as snow.

Adam Havel turned his back to the house and locked the large iron gate behind him. That would slow down the police and fire department for a few seconds. Probably the crucial seconds.

Shards of glass came flying at Lumikki and she dropped into a protective crouch. Then the heat from the bundles of fabric bursting into flames hit her. Lumikki dashed to the stairs. On the upper landing, she collided with Jiři and his camera.

“What are you doing?” Lumikki hissed and put her hand over the lens.

Jiři jerked the camera back.

“I’m filming.”

Lumikki swallowed. Every last one of her muscles was tense.

“Are you part of this plot?”

“What do you mean?”

Jiři’s voice and eyes were sincerely confused. But if Lumikki had learned one thing on this hellish trip, it was that she wasn’t as good at spotting a lie as she thought.

There wasn’t time for subtlety now. They needed all their cards on the table.

Jiři began, “Vera gave me instructions to—”

“I think Vera Sováková is partially behind this. I think she’s known for a long time what was going to happen. She was probably the one who sent the hit man after me. This whole mass suicide might even be her handiwork.”

Lumikki spoke quickly in hushed tones. Hot, dark gray smoke rose from the ground floor, and flames crackled. They both started coughing. Lumikki could see Jiři weighing her words. He was going through each and every event and piece of information that had led them to this moment. Then his eyes went wide. He had clearly decided that Lumikki might be right. He shut off the camera.

“They aren’t on the second or third floors. They must be in the basement,” Jiři said.

Lumikki started down the stairs.

“Wait! It isn’t safe here. You need to get out now. The fire department will be here soon. They were tipped off in advance,” Jiři said. “Vera said that . . .”

Jiři trailed off when he understood.

“They weren’t tipped off about anything,” Lumikki replied. “I stopped at the station, but no one had heard anything about a mass suicide. I don’t know if they believed me. They probably thought I was insane. I didn’t have time to stand around trying to convince them. They might be getting a call right now from one of the neighbors.”

“I’ll call,” Jiři said and started pulling out his phone.

The fire climbed the walls to the upper floors. Rags soaked in lighter fluid weren’t enough anymore. Now it was hungry for wood. The temperature was getting unbearable. The fire sank its burning teeth into the top of the stairs and the wood began to give way.

“No time!” Lumikki yelled.

They pounded down the stairs.

Jiři tossed the camera aside. Nothing unnecessary.

“Follow me!” Lumikki yelled and started weaving along the only path that wasn’t yet a sea of flame.

She heard the sound of fabric ripping behind her. Jiři was tearing strips from his shirt. He handed one to Lumikki.

“Here! Put it over your mouth.”

They arrived at the stairs to the basement. Going underground felt like pure insanity with a house built entirely from wood blazing around them. Just then, the sound of something large collapsing came from behind them. Probably the
stairs. There wasn’t time to think about what was crazy and what wasn’t. They rushed down the stairs.

Storage rooms. A food pantry. And one room with a locked door. Jiři and Lumikki looked at each other, nodded, and then kicked the door as hard as they could. The wood gave way a little, but not enough. They kicked again. The door complained, but held.

The temperature of the air around them was climbing alarmingly fast. A fiery furnace. A lake of fire. Hell.

Lumikki’s eyes were watering. As if through a veil, she saw Jiři crouch down and run into a storage room. After moments that felt like eternity, he returning carrying a heavy chain saw.

Jiři jerked the starter rope several times, but the saw didn’t make a sound. Lumikki could tell that he had never started a chain saw before. Lumikki had used them more times that she could remember at her cousins’ summer house in Åland. She rushed over to Jiři and bodily pushed him away from the saw. There was a time and a place for politeness, and this wasn’t it.

Lumikki wished the saw had been recently used, because then starting it would have been easy. She held the saw against the ground by placing her left foot halfway through the rear handle and holding the front handle tightly in her left hand. With her right hand, she made a few short pulls on the starter rope and then one good, long pull to finish.

Nothing.

Start already. Start.

Lumikki tried again. Three short pulls to draw fuel mixture into the cylinder. Then one long, fast pull.

The chain saw growled into life.

It was heavy, but Lumikki managed to lift it up into the right position. Her arm muscles trembled with effort when the blade dug into the door. Lumikki turned her face away as slivers and sawdust began flying. The noise was deafening. She succeeded in cutting a large gash in the door before her strength gave out.

“Move!” Jiři yelled behind her.

As Lumikki got out of the way, Jiři took a few running steps and kicked the spot she had cut. The door split down the middle.

People lay on the floor of the room. Lumikki quickly counted seventeen. They looked dead, but when Lumikki touched the neck of an old woman lying nearby, she felt a pulse.

“They’ve been drugged,” she screamed.

The fire was crackling so loud above them that it was hard to hear.

“Adam Havel isn’t here,” Jiři called back.

“It doesn’t matter. Help me save Lenka!”

Lumikki had found her among the others. She tried to lift her up, but Lenka’s body was limp and heavy. Jiři came to help, and together they got her into Jiři’s arms. Lumikki also swung Lenka’s arm over her own neck to take some of the weight.

Slowly and carefully, they started climbing the narrow stairs. Stinging smoke assailed their eyes and noses and lungs. The heat slammed into them.

The ground floor was an inferno, but they could still see the side door. Slipping out from under Lenka’s arm, Lumikki tapped Jiři on the back and screamed over the blaze, “Run!”

Jiři took off running. Lumikki followed right behind. Suddenly, a burning board fell from the ceiling. Lumikki just barely managed to jump backward. She watched through the smoke as Jiři made it to the side door and out to safety with Lenka in his arms.

The fire shrieked and sang around Lumikki. She felt it licking her shirt and thought her back was on fire.

Closing her eyes against the smoke, Lumikki just ran and ran and ran through the fire, out the door, and threw herself on the grass, rolling and rolling and rolling and rolling until the burning on her back was out. She saw Jiři lying on the grass, coughing. She saw Lenka, who lay on the grass in deep, peaceful sleep.

The flames licked at the sky.

And over the roar of the fire came the sound of emergency sirens in the distance.

EPILOGUE
THURSDAY, JUNE 23

Lumikki looked at the white cotton balls, whipped cream mountains, and blue depths through the airplane window as she let Shirley Manson sing in her ears about a big, bright, shining world. The song was uncommonly sunny for Garbage, but right now Lumikki liked that.

She let her thoughts rest on the view outside. Rest. That’s what she needed now more than anything. She wanted to lock herself in her apartment and sleep for a week. That wasn’t an option, though. Her family’s Midsummer get-together was coming up. She would have to tell everyone what Prague had been like.

Lovely.

Very Central European.

Lots of culture. I even went to a shadow play.

Relaxing.

And she could talk about the city’s hills and parks, all the bridges, the heat during the day that turned to a caressing warmth at night, the alleys of the old city, the statues, the cafés. She could tell them about all the good, easy things. And when they asked if she ever wanted to go back to Prague, she could answer honestly that yes, she’d go back anytime. What she would leave out was the two friends she had waiting there. She had spent the last days of her trip with Jiři and Lenka. Apparently, Vera Sováková had called the hit man off after the mass suicide attempt was over. Lumikki wasn’t a threat anymore. She wasn’t significant. And for that, Lumikki was extremely grateful.