Chapter 11
The rungs of the vertical iron maintenance ladder were cold and slick with moisture. Julian climbed first, testing each anchor bolt before putting his full weight onto the metal. Below him, Walter hoisted Marcus up the first few rungs with grim determination, while Clara used her left arm and legs to pull herself upward, gritting her teeth against the sharp twinges of pain in her right wrist.
The vertical shaft seemed endless, smelling of damp earth and aging iron. Above them, the circular steel hatch leading to the courtyard gazebo remained closed, filtering down the faint, rhythmic sound of heavy rain drumming against the wooden slats of the structure.
Julian reached the top of the ladder, pressing his fingers against the underside of the heavy iron latch. It was locked from the outside by a standard master padlock, but the hinges had rusted through decades of neglect. With a sharp, controlled twist of his shoulder, Julian slammed his weight upward against the hatch.
The rusted iron hinges groaned and gave way with a loud, metallic crack that echoed across the open courtyard. Fresh, rain-cooled air rushed down into the shaft, clearing away the stale scent of the subterranean tunnels in an instant.
Julian pulled himself through the opening, rolling onto the wooden floor of the gazebo before immediately reaching down to pull Clara up by her jacket. Walter followed closely behind, dragging a thoroughly uncooperative Marcus through the narrow hatch and shoving him down against the central wooden bench.
"Stay low," Julian whispered, peering through the carved wooden lattice walls of the gazebo toward the main Vance mansion.
The estate was illuminated intermittently by jagged flashes of lightning that tore across the Manhattan skyline. Through the downpour, two black utility vans with obscured license plates were parked directly across the private drive, their high-beam headlights cutting blinding swaths through the rain. Armed figures in tactical rain gear were moving methodically toward the side entrance of the library, carrying heavy breaching equipment.
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"They’ve found the library tunnel," Walter observed, his hand resting on the heavy wrench he had carried up from the basement. "They’ll realize we diverted toward the pump station within five minutes."
Clara pulled the amber vials from her pocket, checking them under the pale lightning flashes. All three vials remained intact. "We need to reach the main road before their perimeter sweep locks down the private drive."
