Chapter 37 - The Vault of Secrets
The elevator descended smoothly into the earth, opening into a wide, soundproofed foyer paved in white marble. Heavy steel reinforced doors stood wide open at the far end, revealing the gleaming rows of safe-deposit boxes within the subterranean vault.
"Two targets," Vincent’s voice crackled into my ear, his tone transformed from panicked father to tactical commander. "One standing beside the desk, facing the door. The other is leaning over the branch manager at the inner wall. The one by the desk has a heavy build, shoulder holster under an unbuttoned gray suit."
"Copy," I breathed.
I stepped out of the elevator, my heels deliberately loud against the marble.
The man in the gray suit turned immediately, his hand drifting naturally toward his armpit. He was young, scarred, and cocky. "Vault is closed for private audit, lady. Turn around."
"I don't think so," I said, continuing forward with deliberate, steady strides. "I'm the designated signatory for Box 404."
Behind him, the branch manager—a terrified, balding man covered in sweat—gasped. The second gunman, older and wiry, spun around, pulling a suppressed pistol from beneath his coat. "It’s the girl from the airport. Dante’s orders: take her alive if possible."
"Peter," I said aloud. "Now."
The vault lights died instantly.
Darkness slammed down like a physical wall.
"Down!" Vincent yelled in my ear.
I dropped flat onto the cold marble floor. A split second later, a bullet cracked through the air right where my chest had been, shattering a glass display case behind me.
In the pitch black, I didn't shoot blind. I waited.
"Where is she?!" the wiry man hissed, the rustle of his clothing giving away his position near the safety boxes.
"Target two is three steps left of the center table," Vincent’s voice guided me like an angel of death, watching through the thermal backup feed on the security override. "Target one is moving toward the door, blind. Fire two feet to your right, waist high."
I drew the 9mm, rolled onto my back, and pulled the trigger twice toward the empty darkness.
A sickening grunt echoed through the room, followed by the heavy thud of a body crashing against the marble floor.
"Target one down," Vincent said, his voice entirely devoid of hesitation. "Target two is flanking behind the safety deposit racks. He's scared, Claire. He's rushing you."
I heard the frantic scrape of shoe leather. I scrambled to my feet, using the dark as my armor. As the wiry man lunged blindly past the entry frame, I brought the heavy steel slide of the pistol down with everything I had against the side of his skull.
A crunch echoed in the hollow room. The man collapsed like a sack of stones.
The vault went dead quiet.
Ten seconds later, the emergency backup lights flickered on with a dull hum, casting the vault in pale amber light.
Both men were motionless on the floor. The branch manager was cowering under the mahogany desk, trembling so violently his teeth were chattering.
I stood there, my chest heaving, the warm barrel of the gun smoking in my hand.
"Claire?" Vincent’s voice was ragged in my ear. "Claire, answer me!"
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"I have the room," I whispered, wiping a strand of hair from my forehead. "Tell the manager to open Box 404."
***
