The fire was five blocks from the Ritz. There was a half block heap of glowing brick and rubble. Behind the rubble stood an old church, one wall partially blown out. The firemen were playing streams of water into and around this hole.
"God!" Margaret said. "The stench!"
"Oil. My guess is that a thousand gallons of oil went up in smoke."
In the crowd standing at the rim of the fire lines, a taxi driver turned around and glanced at Hall. "Some fire," he said.
"What happened?"
"Garage. The Phoenix Garage went up in smoke. Blew a hole in the Cathedral when it exploded."
"The Phoenix Garage?"
"That's what it is, señor." The driver moved closer to the gutted rubble.
"You wait here, Margaret. I'm going to talk to the firemen." He crossed the fire lines, found his way to the engine captain near the main hydrant. When he returned to Margaret, he gave her a complete report. "The fire chiefs say that the Reds didn't blow up the church at all," he said. "Seems as if the gasoline tanks in the garage caught fire by themselves."
Margaret laughed. "Don't tell Gis," she said. "She's already cabled a story to the States that the Reds burned the church."