Chapter 5 - Secrets of the Sub-Level
The dumbwaiter slammed to a halt in the subterranean service basement with a heavy metallic clank.
Claire pushed the access door open, stepping out into the cool, concrete-lined utility corridor. The emergency red lighting flickered here too, casting long, menacing shadows across rows of heavy electrical transformers and industrial water heaters.
"Are the boys okay?" Vincent asked anxiously, dropping to his knees beside Claire as she laid Leo and Lucas down on a clean workbench.
"Their breathing is still dangerously shallow, but getting them out of that poisoned room bought us time," Claire said, pressing two fingers to Lucas’s neck. "We need to flush the neurotoxin out of their systems immediately. Is there a medical kit in the safe room?"
"In the primary security vault," Vincent nodded, standing up and pulling a heavy steel security key from a hidden chain around his neck. "Follow me."
They hurried through the subterranean labyrinth toward the reinforced steel door of the Moretti estate panic room. The facility was designed to withstand a localized explosion, complete with independent air filtration, satellite comms, and medical supplies.
Vincent swiped his master keycard and punched a six-digit biometric code into the digital keypad.
Access Denied. System Locked.
Vincent frowned, typing it again. Access Denied.
"What?" Vincent muttered, sweat beading on his forehead. "This is a hardwired offline biometric lock. It can't be overridden from the outside network."
"Unless," a cold, smooth voice echoed from the dim shadows of the corridor ahead, "the master administration privileges were transferred over an hour ago."
Vincent and Claire whipped around.
Stepping out from behind a towering rack of server units was a tall, impeccably dressed man with sharp silver-rimmed glasses and an expensive charcoal suit that looked entirely out of place in a dusty basement.
Marcus Sterling. Managing partner of Moretti Global’s executive board.
"Marcus," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, glacial whisper. "You."
"Hello, Vincent," Marcus smiled smoothly, adjusting his cuffs. He held a sleek tablet device in his hand, the screen glowing with a green override code. "I must admit, you're harder to kill than we anticipated. Blake was supposed to finish the boys months ago with the slow-drip paralytic. But the good doctor grew too attached to his clinical notes, didn't he?"
"You poisoned my sons," Vincent stepped forward, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. "You used my own home to murder children."
"Business, Vincent. Nothing personal," Marcus replied calmly, gesturing with his tablet. Two armed mercenaries stepped out from the shadows behind him, their carbines leveled directly at Claire and Vincent. "Your aggressive expansion into tech infrastructure was threatening the board’s long-term acquisitions. You were too stubborn to step down. So, we arranged a tragic family tragedy. A grieving father, two frail children succumbing to an undiagnosed genetic tragedy, and a sympathetic board stepping in to salvage the company. Clean. Efficient. Profitable."
Claire gently shifted her weight, positioning herself slightly in front of the twins on the workbench, her eyes scanning the room for any possible leverage. "You forgot one variable, Mr. Sterling."
Marcus glanced at Claire, raising an eyebrow with mild amusement. "Ah, the nanny. The secondhand cardigan brigade. Tell me, Miss Morgan, what exactly does an ordinary nanny think she can do against armed tactical professionals?"
"She isn't just a nanny," a weak voice wheezed from the dark corridor behind them.
All eyes snapped toward the doorway.
Dr. Harrison Blake dragged himself into the light, clutching his bleeding shoulder, his face pale and twisted with bitter hatred. "She’s not from the agency, Marcus. I ran her background when she first arrived. Her real name isn't Claire Morgan."
May you like
Marcus’s smile faltered slightly. "Explain."
"Her maiden name is Claire Sterling," Blake spat, coughing up blood. "She’s your estranged younger sister. The one you disowned a decade ago when she refused to participate in your father's corporate embezzlements."
