Chapter Seventeen
Erik rushed through the smoking, burning hole into the building. A massive plaque near the remains of the door read B32.
The gangsters’ attack had opened a path into what appeared to the blasted and scarred remains of a narrow conference room.
Half-burned furniture lay strewn about, covered in fine white powder. Charred pieces of a long table covered the floor. The fire suppression system had done its work, even if dense smoke filled the room. Erik waved his hand, clearing some of it out, then covering his mouth with his arm.
Another explosion shook the building, followed by a loud Cantonese curse. Erik rushed out of the conference room onto a production floor. The smoke remained concentrated in the conference room, barely bothering his eyes or lungs as he emerged int
