Chapter 6 - Descent into Millbrook
The motorcade of three matte-black SUVs kicked up gravel as it roared through the iron gates of the Mercer farm, coming to a sliding halt beside the weathered barn.
Local police cruisers were already parked along the country lane, their emergency lights flashing silently in the midday sun. State troopers stood at attention as Arthur Vance unlocked the heavy iron padlock on the old root cellar behind Walter’s workshop.
“This is insane,” Julian muttered, stepping out of the middle SUV, his custom leather shoes sinking into the damp autumn mud. He glared at Ethan, who stood beside Walter and Elena near the cellar entrance. “You’re dragging us down to a dirt cellar for a medieval superstition?”
“If it’s a superstition, Julian, open the door,” Ethan challenged, stepping forward.
Julian sneered, pushing past the state troopers and marching down the concrete steps into the dark, damp subterranean stairwell. A heavy steel door, reinforced with thick tungsten bars and an old-fashioned circular combination dial, dominated the far wall.
Conrad descended slowly, supported by Arthur Vance. Walter stayed at the top of the stairs, his hand resting on a heavy iron lever mounted to the wall.
“The combination,” Julian demanded, turning to his grandfather. “Give me the numbers.”
“There are no numbers, Julian,” Conrad said, leaning against the damp stone wall. “The lock reads biometric resonance and thermal signature. Try to force it with explosives, and the seismic charges collapse the entire ridge.”
Julian stepped up to the massive steel wheel. He placed both palms against the cold metal, closing his eyes, forcing his breathing to steady. He was Julian Sterling, future master of forty billion dollars. He commanded boards, politicians, and media empires.
He gripped the wheel and turned it hard to the right.
Clank.
The heavy internal tumblers jammed instantly. A harsh red light flashed above the door frame, followed by an automated robotic voice echoing through the stone corridor: ACCESS DENIED. UNAUTHORIZED BIOMETRIC SIGNATURE.
Julian slammed his fists against the steel door, panting heavily. “It’s rigged! The machinery is old! It’s rusted!”
“Move aside, Julian,” Ethan said quietly.
Ethan walked down the remaining steps, his movements calm and deliberate. The air in the underground chamber grew noticeably warmer as he approached the steel door.
Julian stepped back, his face twisted with rage and disbelief. “Go ahead. Prove your little parlor trick. When it locks you out too, we blow this place to atoms.”
Ethan placed his right hand flat against the center of the circular steel wheel.
For a second, nothing happened. Julian opened his mouth to laugh.
Then, the hidden mark on Ethan’s collarbone flared beneath his shirt, casting a brilliant amber glow through the fabric.
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Inside the massive steel door, a series of heavy, muffled thuds echoed—like a giant clockwork mechanism finally finding its rhythm after twenty years of silence. The red warning light flickered, turned amber, and then shifted to a blinding, steady white.
With a deep, pneumatic hiss of escaping air, the massive tungsten bars retracted into the stone walls, and the heavy door slowly swung open on its own accord.
