Chapter 13 - Floor Forty-Five
The express elevators were shut down by emergency interlocks. The only way up was the concrete service stairwell.
Richard, Julian, and Claire moved upward in disciplined silence, their footsteps muffled against the rubber treads. At the thirtieth floor, Richard paused, holding up a hand. From somewhere above them came the distinct, rhythmic whine of an industrial diamond-tipped drill grinding through hardened steel.
“They’re into the vault,” Julian whispered, sweat running down the scar on his temple.
Claire adjusted Liam, who was awake now, his wide hazel eyes looking around the dim stairwell in silent confusion. She produced a small strip of cloth from her pocket and tied it gently over his mouth to prevent any accidental cries, stroking his hair to keep him calm.
They reached the forty-fifth-floor landing. Richard eased the heavy fire door open an inch.
The executive floor was bathed in moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling perimeter windows. Two men in tactical vests and gray fatigues stood guard outside the corporate boardroom, assault rifles slung low across their chests. Further down the hall, sparks showered from the entrance of the executive archive room as a thermal lance ate through the vault’s outer lock.
“Two guards at the door, at least two more inside the vault,” Julian assessed, peering through the gap. “We don't have the firepower to take them in an open corridor.”
“We don't need to,” Claire whispered from behind them.
Both brothers turned to her.
“The fire suppression system on the executive floor uses carbon dioxide displacement, not water,” Claire said, pointing to a red glass console mounted right inside the stairwell door. “If you trip the manual emergency release, the entire floor floods with inert gas in forty-five seconds. Anyone without oxygen tanks loses consciousness within thirty seconds.”
“We’ll lose consciousness too,” Richard noted.
Claire pointed upward to the stairwell wall. Mounted in a recessed emergency cabinet were three standard high-rise escape breathing apparatuses with ten-minute air reservoirs.
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Julian smiled faintly, the first genuine expression on his face all night. “Remind me never to underestimate the help.”
Richard broke the glass of the safety box, retrieving the masks. “Pull the lever, Claire.”
