Chapter 9 - The Descent
The service entrance behind Saint Jude Depository smelled of damp concrete and motor oil. Christian moved with terrifying efficiency, leading Claire through a sub-basement passage that connected the depository to an abandoned subway maintenance tunnel. It was clear he had mapped this route years before he ever faked his death.
Christian drew a suppressed pistol from beneath his coat, checking the chamber with a quiet, practiced motion. Claire watched him in the dim light, realizing how completely the civilized Wall Street executive she once knew had been replaced by something far more lethal.
""Two guards at the inner security checkpoint,"" Christian whispered, peering through the grate of a ventilation duct looking into the private vault antechamber. ""Both carrying compact automatic weapons. Private military grade. Marcus Kane spares no expense.""
Below them, Victoria stood near the reinforced titanium door of Box 408. She had thrown a beige trench coat over her silver evening dress, but her hair was disheveled, and she paced frantically on the marble tiles, checking an encrypted phone every thirty seconds.
""Where is the courier?"" Victoria’s voice echoed up into the vent, sharp and nervous. ""They were supposed to bring Julian's biometric clone fifteen minutes ago! If the morning board discovers the freeze before these certificates are cleared, we’re all facing thirty years!""
""The clone failed,"" Christian murmured to Claire, his lips brushing her ear. ""They tried to synthesize Julian's retina scan from his passport records, but Saint Jude uses micro-vascular pulse verification. Kane realized they need genuine blood. That's why they’re bringing Julian here right now.""
Claire peered down through the grate. Through the heavy steel blast doors of the loading corridor, two men dragged Julian’s limp form into the vault. Julian’s head rolled uselessly against his chest, his tuxedo ruined, spit drying at the corner of his mouth.
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""He's barely conscious,"" Claire breathed, feeling a bizarre, cold pang of pity for the cousin who had tried to ruin her life.
""He doesn't need to be conscious,"" Christian said, his fingers tightening on the grip of his weapon. ""He just needs to have a pulse. When I breach this grate, stay behind the pillar. Don't look at what happens. Just get to the console and lock the blast shutters.""
