Chapter 8 - The Vault Unsealed
My heart pounded violently against my ribs as I stared at the glowing red numbers ticking down on the explosive device.
00:04:15
"Marco!" I shouted over the hum of the subway ventilation fans. "The Commission vault isn't bomb-proof from underneath! If that C4 detonates against this foundation pillar, the floor above will collapse into this basement!"
"I know!" Marco cursed, frantically typing on his tactical tablet, trying to override the cellular jammer in the building. "I can't get a signal through six feet of reinforced concrete!"
I looked up at the ceiling.
Directly above the explosive charge was a cast-iron emergency ventilation duct—a circular pipe six inches in diameter that ran straight up into the Commission vault's floor to supply fresh air during long sessions.
"The air vent!" I cried out, pointing to the pipe. "It leads directly inside the room!"
Marco looked up. "It's narrow, Claire! We can't fit a man through that duct!"
"We don't need a man!" I said, stepping up to the pillar. "We need sound! Sound travels through iron pipes!"
I grabbed Marco's heavy tactical flashlight, turned it around, and began pounding the metal handle against the cast-iron ventilation pipe in a steady, frantic rhythm.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
S.O.S.
The universal distress signal echoed up through the iron pipe, vibrating straight into the quiet, sealed room four feet above our heads.
Inside the Commission vault, Adrian Moretti was standing at the head of the long oak table, looking down at his uncle Antonio with cold, contemptuous eyes.
"The vote is unanimous, Antonio," Adrian stated coldly, tossing a thick stack of financial documents onto the table. "Your shares are seized by the trust. You have thirty minutes to clear your desk at the waterfront office."
Antonio smiled—a slow, sickening smile that didn't reach his eyes. He glanced at his wrist watch.
1:52 PM.
"Are you sure about that time, Adrian?" Antonio sneered, leaning back in his leather chair. "You always were too focused on the paperwork to notice the foundation crumbling beneath your feet."
Suddenly, a loud, metallic clanging sound vibrated through the floorboards beneath Adrian's leather shoes.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG!
Adrian froze.
He knew that rhythm. During his service in the naval intelligence division ten years ago, that specific pattern was the emergency evacuation signal used aboard submarines.
He looked down at the floor, then his eyes snapped to Antonio's face.
Antonio’s sickening smile widened.
Without a second thought, Adrian pulled a heavy black custom pistol from his inner suit holster, racked the slide, and pointed it straight between Antonio's eyes.
"Where is it?" Adrian growled, his voice sending a wave of pure terror through the other twelve Commission members at the table.
"You're too late, nephew," Antonio laughed softly. "In three minutes, this room becomes your tomb—and your little pregnant whore in Greenwich will be left with nothing."
Adrian didn't hesitate.
BANG!
A single bullet shattered Antonio's right kneecap. Antonio screamed in agony, collapsing off his chair onto the carpet, clutching his bleeding leg.
"Where is the device?!" Adrian roared, stepping over the table, pressing the hot barrel of the gun against Antonio's temple.
"Under... under the north foundation pillar!" Antonio choked out, weeping in pain. "In the subway crawlspace!"
Adrian grabbed the emergency hydraulic release lever on the vault wall, pulling it down with all his strength.
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The massive ten-ton steel vault door unsealed with a deafening hydraulic hiss, swinging open into the sub-basement corridor.
"EVACUATE THE BUILDING NOW!" Adrian roared to his guards outside, turning on his heel and sprinting toward the secondary maintenance stairwell that led down into the subway crawlspace.
