Chapter 8 - Twelve Seconds of Darkness
The basement access grate in the alley behind 57th Street gave way under the leverage of Frank’s heavy crowbar with a low, agonizing groan of rusted iron. Frank dropped through the opening into the humid, buzzing darkness of the high-rise’s mechanical vault. Water dripped from steam pipes overhead, hissing against hot valves.
He checked his tactical watch. Exactly 03:42 AM.
Frank pulled a block of military-grade C4 from his sling bag, pressing the pliable compound directly onto the heavy copper junction boxes supplying power from the municipal grid to the skyscraper's primary breakers. He slotted a remote detonator into the putty, set the frequency, and took three deep, measured breaths.
He tapped his radio. ""Elena. Ready?""
""Ready,"" her voice crackled back through the encrypted channel. ""Sub-station monitors are bypassed. You have your window.""
Frank stepped into the freight elevator vestibule, pressing his back against the wall next to the express elevator shaft. He clicked the remote trigger.
THUMP.
The explosion was contained deep within the concrete vault, a muffled thud that barely vibrated the floor, but the effect was instantaneous. Every light in the supertall skyscraper died. The ambient hum of air conditioning, server racks, and elevator motors vanished, replaced by an eerie, total silence.
One... two... three...
Frank sprinted into the express elevator shaft, jamming a titanium pry bar between the outer doors and forcing them open. The elevator car was sitting idle at the ground floor landing. He swung himself onto the roof of the car, grabbing the heavy braided steel cables, and attached a motorized battery-powered ascender to the line.
Four... five... six...
He engaged the motor. The ascender whined furiously, hauling him up through the dark, vertical concrete throat of the building at thirty feet per second. Below him, eighty floors of sheer drop expanded into a terrifying abyss.
Seven... eight... nine...
Up on the eighty-second floor, the red emergency sirens began to wail as the building’s backup generators sputtered to life. Emergency halogens flickered on, casting long, blood-red shadows across the private penthouse lobby.
Two of Kane’s elite guards stood by the elevator doors, their rifles raised, waiting for the system to reset.
""Elevator four is moving,"" one guard shouted into his comm. ""We have an unauthorized ascent!""
Ten... eleven... twelve.
The hydraulic brakes slammed shut on the roof of the elevator cab as it reached the eighty-second floor. Before the guards could react, the emergency ceiling hatch of the elevator cab flew open. Two flash-bang grenades arced through the air, bouncing onto the plush carpet of the penthouse lobby.
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A blinding double-detonation tore through the enclosed space, followed by a shockwave that blew the hallway artwork off the walls. Through the thick smoke, Frank dropped to the floor, his rifle already raised, firing with surgical precision.
Both guards collapsed before their ears stopped ringing. Frank kicked their weapons into the open elevator shaft, stepped over their bodies, and walked through the shattered double doors into Daniel Vanderbilt’s private sanctuary.
