Chapter 10
Shouts echoed through the pitch-black vault as the sudden loss of light disoriented Henderson and his guards. A muffled gunshot cracked through the cavernous room, the muzzle flash illuminating the concrete pillars in a blinding strobe-light effect as a bullet ricocheted off a steel deposit box with a shower of sparks.
“Arthur! This way!” Charca’s voice cut sharply through the ringing silence from the direction of the old utility corridor.
Arthur didn't hesitate. He clutched the manila envelope to his chest and bolted toward the sound of her voice, his hands brushing against the cold concrete pillars to guide his way in the absolute dark. Behind them, heavy footsteps thudded frantically against the floor as Henderson and his men scrambled blindly through the maze of metal boxes.
“Watch the low pipe!” Charca grabbed his arm, yanking him downward just as his head narrowly missed a low-hanging steam valve.
She pulled him through a narrow service hatch that led into the old pneumatic tube network—a series of rusted metal chutes originally used to transport documents between bank branches across the district. Without missing a beat, Charca slid feet first into the dark metal cylinder, disappearing into the incline. Arthur followed immediately behind her, his wool coat scraping against the rusted interior walls as gravity pulled them downward in a dizzying rush of cold air and sliding metal.
They shot out the lower end of the chute like a pair of cannonballs, tumbling onto a pile of discarded cardboard boxes in an old municipal storage room that smelled strongly of dust and old newspapers.
Arthur groaned, rolling onto his side and clutching his bruised ribs, while Charca quickly scrambled to her feet, shoving a heavy wooden filing cabinet against the service hatch door just as muffled curses echoed from the upper end of the chute.
“That should buy us a few minutes,” she panted, pressing her back against the wooden cabinet as she tried to catch her breath. She looked down at her side; the makeshift gauze was soaked completely through with fresh blood from the exertion, but her eyes burned with adrenaline and fierce determination. “Are you okay, Dad?”
Arthur pushed himself up, brushing the soot and dust from his coat, and nodded firmly. “I’ve felt better, but I’m still standing. What about you? That side looks bad.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t walked off before,” she lied with a tight smile, though her pale complexion betrayed the intense pain she was fighting through. She looked down at the manila envelope still clutched tightly in his hands. “Did you keep it safe?”
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Arthur held up the packet, tapping it gently against his palm. “Right here. Every signature, every illegal wire transfer, every name on the list. Henderson won't be able to bury this one.”
“Good,” Charca said, walking over to a small grated window near the ceiling that looked out onto the gray dawn sky. The rain had finally cleared, leaving behind a crisp, pale morning light that promised a new beginning. “Because we need to take it straight to the one person in the city who can’t be bought.”
