Chapter 7 - Twelve Minutes to Impact
The deafening roar of the twin-turbine engine rattled through the cabin of the black Sikorsky helicopter as we cleared the tree line of the Greenwich estate, banking hard south over Long Island Sound.
I sat in the leather passenger seat, wearing a heavy tactical headset, my seatbelt pulled tight across my lap, holding my stomach with both hands.
"Wind speeds are thirty knots out of the northeast!" the pilot shouted through the comms system. "Flight time to Maiden Lane helipad is eleven minutes!"
1:32 PM.
"Marco," I said through my headset, looking at the city skyline rising through the dark clouds ahead. "The Commission vault at 100 Wall Street is accessed via the primary elevator bank on the sub-basement level. But there is a secondary service maintenance hatch that opens directly into the Wall Street subway maintenance corridor."
Marco looked at me through his visor, impressed. "How do you know that?"
"I wrote the preservation report on the building's structural foundation six years ago," I replied. "If Antonio put a device in that vault, he didn't bring it through the front security desk. His men used the maintenance corridor from the subway."
"If we drop onto the Maiden Lane pad, we can hit the subway entrance at Pine Street and enter the building from underneath," Marco realized, his eyes lighting up. "We bypass the front guards entirely!"
"Exactly," I said. "Where is Adrian's personal security detail?"
"Standing outside the main vault door on sub-level four," Marco said, checking his tactical tablet. "They're trapped outside the soundproof room. Once the Commission vault door is locked from the inside during a vote, it cannot be opened from the outside until the session concludes."
1:41 PM.
The helicopter descended rapidly over the East River, banking hard past the Brooklyn Bridge, dropping onto the rooftop helipad of the Federal Reserve building on Maiden Lane.
The moment the skids touched the concrete, Marco unbuckled his harness and opened the side door.
"Stay in the aircraft, Miss Bennett!" Marco yelled over the engine roar. "My squad will handle the basement!"
"I am coming with you to the subway entrance!" I shouted back, unbuckling my harness. "You don't know which maintenance door leads to the vault structural crawlspace!"
Before he could stop me, I stepped down onto the rooftop, my heavy wool coat blowing violently in the helicopter's wind draft.
We rushed down the stairwell of the Federal Reserve building, bursting out onto Maiden Lane into the cold afternoon rain. Three of Marco's elite tactical guards surrounded me, their weapons drawn beneath heavy coats, clearing a path through startled pedestrians.
We ducked into the Pine Street subway entrance, taking the concrete steps two at a time.
1:48 PM.
Seven minutes remaining.
The air in the subterranean subway corridor was warm, thick with the smell of ozone, steel, and brake dust.
I led the squad down a narrow, dimly lit service corridor marked MAINTENANCE ACCESS - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Marco pulled a heavy iron crowbar from his tactical pack, jamming it into the lock mechanism of the heavy steel door, throwing his weight against it until the lock snapped with a loud bang.
We burst into a damp, concrete pipe junction located directly beneath the foundation of 100 Wall Street.
Mounted against the thick concrete pillar supporting the main floor of the Commission vault above was a heavy black pelican case.
A digital LED timer glowed brightly in the damp darkness.
00:05:42 00:05:41 00:05:40
May you like
Five minutes and forty seconds.
"CLEAR THE AREA!" Marco screamed, drawing his weapon, looking at the complex wire array attached to two blocks of military-grade C4 explosive. "IT'S A FREQUENCY-TRIGGERED TIMER! IF WE TRY TO CUT THE WIRES WITHOUT THE DECRYPTION KEY, IT DETONATES INSTANTLY!"
