Chapter 8 - What Lies Beneath
Daniel didn't wait for Vance to turn his head.
The moment Vance’s eyes flickered toward the little girl, Daniel lunged forward. He closed the five-foot gap in a fraction of a second, his heavy shoulder slamming into Vance’s chest with the force of a battering ram. The two men crashed onto the concrete floor, the suppressed pistol skittering away into the darkness beneath a row of storage drums.
Vance drove an elbow into Daniel’s ribs, but Daniel ignored the pain, wrapping his fingers around Vance’s collar and driving his fist into the older man’s jaw once, twice, until Vance went limp against the slick stone.
Daniel scrambled to his feet, pulled a small pocket knife from his trousers, and rushed to Lily’s chair. With three quick strokes, he sliced through the heavy nylon ropes binding her wrists and ankles, then gently peeled the tape from her mouth.
Lily threw her small arms around his neck, weeping hysterically into his jacket. "Daddy! He was in the house! He was the man who talked to Victoria in the kitchen when you were at work!"
"It's okay, baby. I've got you," Daniel whispered, lifting her into his arms. "I've got you."
"Daddy, look!" Lily cried, pointing down at the iron grate set into the concrete floor beneath her chair.
The heavy cast-iron plate, four feet wide, had been pried open slightly, held up by a thick wooden block. Wisps of pale, cold fog were rising through the gaps, carrying a sharp, chemical smell that smelled faintly of sulfur and ozone.
Daniel set Lily down behind a heavy concrete pillar, pulling his flashlight from his belt. He walked back to the iron grate, placed his hand on the metal edge, and heaved it upward, flipping the heavy plate onto the concrete with a deafening CLANG.
Beneath the floor lay a concrete staircase leading down into a bright, lit subterranean complex—a modern, industrial vault built directly beneath the riverbed.
Mounted along the walls of the descent were glowing LED status panels, security card readers, and a heavy pneumatic blast door that stood wide open.
Standing at the bottom of the brightly lit concrete corridor, framed by the glare of fluorescent light panels, was a tall man in an overcoat. He was holding an ivory-handled walking cane, his back turned to the stairs as he typed a command into a glowing security terminal mounted to the wall.
He turned slowly.
His face was aged, lined with deep, hardened wrinkles, but his posture was unmistakable. He possessed the same sharp jawline, the same cold gray eyes, and the same absolute, unyielding posture as Daniel.
It was William Carter.
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The man Daniel had buried in his heart twenty years ago.
"Hello, Daniel," William said, his voice smooth, resonant, and completely devoid of warmth. "I see you finally managed to trace the assets to the vault."
