Chapter 9 - Trapped Below
The sound of heavy boots pacing across the dining room floor above sent a jolt of adrenaline through the subterranean room. Helena grabbed Clara’s arm, her fingers digging into the fabric of the white collared shirt with surprising strength.
"It’s Marcus," Helena whispered, her voice trembling with genuine terror. "He didn't wait forty-eight hours. He brought men to clear the house right now."
Clara acted instantly. She swept the remaining documents off the steel desk and shoved them into her leather shoulder bag, making sure the encrypted flash drive was securely zipped inside her inner pocket. She looked around the cramped vault for an alternate exit, but the concrete walls were solid, windowless, and cold. There was no back door, no ventilation shaft large enough to crawl through, and only one way out—back up the concealed staircase into the dining room where Marcus and his enforcers were currently waiting.
"We can't go back up that way," Clara said, her voice entirely calm despite the escalating danger.
"Then we're trapped," Helena said, her breathing growing shallow. "Arthur built a tomb for us."
"Arthur built an escape tunnel," Clara corrected, remembering a blueprint she had spotted beneath a pile of architectural sketches on the corner of the desk. She knelt down, shining the flashlight app on her smartphone against the base of the eastern concrete wall. Behind a rolling metal shelving unit lay a low, bolted steel hatch labeled with emergency exit symbols.
"Help me move this shelving unit, Helena," Clara instructed urgently, grabbing the heavy metal uprights.
Helena didn't hesitate. Despite her age and frailty, the sheer terror of Marcus finding them unlocked a hidden reserve of strength. Together, they shoved the loaded metal shelves aside, scraping the concrete floor until the heavy hatch was fully exposed.
Above them, the muffled sound of splintering wood echoed through the ceiling. Marcus’s men were forcing the oil painting frame off the wall, attempting to pry open the concealed keypad panel with crowbars.
Clara grabbed the iron wheel on the steel hatch and turned it counterclockwise with all her strength. The heavy metal mechanism groaned, rusted bolts resisting her initial tugs before finally giving way with a loud pop. She pulled the heavy door upward, revealing a dark, concrete drainage pipe large enough for an adult to crawl through.
"Go, Helena! Into the pipe!" Clara urged, helping the older woman lower herself into the narrow, damp opening.
"What about you?" Helena asked, looking back with tear-filled eyes.
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"I'm right behind you," Clara said, slamming the steel vault drawer shut and securing the flash drive inside her jacket just as the upper staircase door was violently kicked open above them.
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