Chapter 7 - The Gas Main Trap
The metallic ping of Viktor's phone echoed like a death knell through the smoke-filled kitchen. Clara scrambled to her feet, her bruised limbs protesting against the sudden exertion, but the adrenaline rushing through her veins pushed the pain aside. The air was turning thick with the faint, sickeningly sweet odor of natural gas leaking from the basement lines below.
"We can't use the back door," Viktor said, his voice clipped and urgent as he dragged the unconscious intruder's keycard off his tactical vest. "The perimeter locks are dead-bolted from the outside by the syndicate's override."
"Then how do we get out?" Clara asked, coughing as she tied a corner of her white apron around her mouth and nose to filter the thickening haze. "Is there a panic room?"
"Better," Viktor replied, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her toward the walk-in pantry where Arthur had vanished into the shadows just minutes earlier. "My father built this house during the syndicate wars of the nineties. Every major room has an escape chute beneath the floorboards, but they haven't been serviced in a decade."
Viktor kicked aside a row of heavy metal shelving units stacked with canned goods, revealing a heavy iron trapdoor set flush into the concrete floor. A numerical keypad sat beside the latch, glowing with a dim battery-powered amber light. Viktor punched in a six-digit code from memory, his fingers flying across the buttons despite the mounting heat radiating upward through the vents.
BEEP-BEEP-CLICK.
The heavy iron bolt slid back with a loud, satisfying pneumatic hiss. Viktor yanked the ring handle upward, revealing a dark, vertical shaft plunging deep into the earth beneath the foundation of the estate. A rush of cool, damp underground air wafted up, momentarily pushing back the toxic smoke.
"Go," Viktor ordered, gesturing downward. "Drop down onto the ladder and don't look back."
Clara didn't hesitate. She swung her legs over the edge of the dark opening, her boots finding the rusted metal rungs of the ladder bolted to the concrete wall. As she began descending into the gloom, a sudden explosion rocked the western wing of the mansion, sending a violent shockwave through the floorboards and rattling the pantry shelves violently.
"Viktor!" Clara screamed, looking up into the dim light of the pantry.
Viktor was still standing by the edge of the hatch, firing three rapid shots through the swinging kitchen door as shadowy figures swarmed into the room from the hallway. A bullet grazed his shoulder, tearing through the white dress shirt and leaving a bright crimson streak, but he didn't flinch.
"Keep going, Clara!" Viktor shouted over the roar of approaching flames. "I'm right behind you!"
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He slammed the heavy iron trapdoor shut, plunging them both into total darkness, just as the ceiling of the kitchen began to cave in from the roaring inferno above.
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