Chapter 9 - THE UNDERGROUND VAULT
The ceiling lights died instantly.
The grand ballroom plunged into pitch darkness.
Screams tore through the crowd as panicked mobsters scrambled for the exits.
Red laser sights sliced through the dark from the mezzanine above.
Adrian grabbed my waist, pulling me down behind a solid marble buffet counter.
Automatic gunfire tore into the mahogany tables behind us.
Wood splinters and shattered china rained down like shrapnel.
"They brought private mercenaries!" I yelled over the deafening roar of gunfire.
"Wells never plays by syndicate rules," Adrian shouted back.
He raised his Sig Sauer over the edge of the marble and fired three rapid shots.
A sniper on the balcony shrieked, tumbling over the gilded railing to the floor below.
Adrian pulled me toward the service elevator behind the banquet pantry.
"We need the physical ledger," he said, breathing hard.
"Where is it?"
"Beneath the old Federal Reserve bank," Adrian replied, shoving the pantry door open.
"The service tunnel connects right through this basement."
We sprinted through the smoke-filled kitchen into the cold concrete underground.
The air smelled of damp earth and centuries-old stone.
We navigated the maze of brick tunnels beneath Broad Street.
Our footsteps echoed off the arched brick ceiling.
Ten minutes later, we reached a massive circular steel vault door set directly into the bedrock.
A bronze plate read: BENNETT & VALE COLD STORAGE – 1924.
In the center was a single brass keyhole etched with an eagle and an anchor.
"Give me the key," Adrian said.
I pulled the heavy brass key from my pocket.
My fingers brushed his as I handed it over.
He inserted the key into the tumbler.
He turned it clockwise.
A heavy mechanical clunk reverberated through the steel door.
Adrian grasped the steel wheel and spun it with all his strength.
The three-ton vault door slowly groaned open, revealing a small, brightly lit concrete room.
Inside sat a single steel safety deposit box on an iron table.
Adrian opened the box.
Inside lay a thick leather ledger bound with brass wire, and an old cassette tape.
Adrian picked up the tape recorder resting beside the box and hit play.
A rough, deep voice filled the vault.
A voice I hadn't heard since I was eight years old.
"Nora, my sweet girl..."
A sob caught in my throat.
I clutched my chest as tears burned my eyes.
"If you're hearing this, the fire took me. But Adrian survived."
My father took a ragged breath on the recording.
"Grant Mercer betrayed us. He let the arsonists in. I hid the true deeds under your name, Nora. Adrian is not your enemy. He is your family. Protect each other."
The tape ended with a soft hiss of static.
Adrian stood completely still.
A single tear tracked down his angular cheek before he wiped it away.
He turned to me, his gaze fierce with emotion.
"Nora—"
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Before he could finish, a stun grenade bounced across the concrete floor.
A blinding flash of white light exploded.
