Chapter 5 - The Laundry Chute
Richard led the way through the shadow-draped service corridor, a tactical flashlight cutting a sharp white beam through the floating plaster dust. The kitchen was eerily pristine, the polished stainless steel counters reflecting the faint yellow glow of the yard lights outside.
Claire kept Liam tightly wrapped inside Julian's discarded overcoat, fashioning an improvised sling to keep her hands free. Every minor creak of the floorboards sent a jolt of adrenaline through her limbs.
In the back of the walk-in pantry, behind rows of preserved goods, sat the low access panel Claire had discovered. Richard jammed the edge of a heavy kitchen cleaver into the seam of the painted plywood. With a single violent heave, the rusted screws gave way with a sharp screech of metal, exposing the dark, vertical shaft.
A gust of cool, damp air rose from the opening, carrying the distinct scent of ozone, burnt electrical insulation, and damp concrete.
“The drop is twelve feet,” Julian whispered, shining his small penlight down the opening. “There are utility pipes running along the left side. I’ll go first to catch Claire and the boy.”
“Julian,” Richard stopped him, placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If what you said about Liam is true... who is his father?”
Julian paused, his silhouette rigid in the narrow pantry. “Get to the bottom alive, Richard. Then look at Evelyn’s bank statements from the clinic in Zurich. You won't need me to tell you.”
Julian slipped into the chute without another word, his boots finding traction on the cast-iron conduit lines before he vanished into the dark below. A soft thud echoed upward, followed by two low clicks of Julian's flashlight.
“Clear,” Julian’s whisper floated up.
Richard turned to Claire. His expression was tormented, caught between the shattered ruins of his marriage and the survival of the child he had raised as his own. “Claire, give him to me for the drop. Trust me.”
Claire hesitated for a fraction of a second, then carefully untied the coat, passing the whimpering boy into Richard's arms. Liam clung to Richard’s neck, burying his small face into his father's collar.
May you like
Before Richard could lower Liam into the shaft, the pantry door swung open with brutal force, slamming against the shelving.
Standing in the doorway was Marcus Vance, the head of private estate security, his service weapon drawn and leveled directly at Richard’s chest.
