Chapter 11 - The Citadel of Glass
The Vance Industries corporate headquarters loomed against the dark, stormy skyline like a monolith of dark glass and cold steel. Rain battered the towering skyscraper, washing down its sheer obsidian panels that reflected the lightning splitting the heavy clouds above.
Clara killed the engine of the battered armored truck a block away, tucking it neatly into the shadows of a multi-level parking garage. The silence inside the cabin was thick, broken only by the steady drumbeat of heavy rain hitting the roof.
"The biometric vault is on the forty-second floor," Marcus said, his voice raspy as he clutched his chest, fighting another wave of fatigue. "Even if we get past the lobby security, the elevator requires an executive security clearance code that updates every sixty seconds."
Julian checked the clip of a sidearm he had managed to salvage from the safehouse, his knuckles white around the grip. "We don't take the elevators. We take the maintenance shaft on the side of the building."
Clara nodded approvingly, pulling a pair of tactical climbing gloves from her pack. "Julian is right. Eleanor expects an attack through the main entrance or the executive garage. We go up the outside."
They moved out of the vehicle and into the biting wind and driving rain. The vertical climb up the exterior maintenance ladder of a forty-two-story skyscraper was a brutal test of endurance, especially with the howling wind trying to tear them from the slick metal rungs. Clara led the way with effortless, mechanical precision, her muscles moving with practiced ease. Julian followed closely behind, his breath pluming white in the freezing air. Marcus, tethered between them with a safety harness, pushed his aging body past its absolute limits, every breath a ragged wheeze.
When they finally reached the reinforced maintenance window on the forty-second floor, Clara didn't hesitate. She applied a small strip of thermal cutting cord to the reinforced glass, igniting it with a silent spark. The chemical fire burned a neat, glowing circle through the glass in seconds.
Clara pushed the glass disk inward, stepping silently through the opening into the pristine, dimly lit executive hallway of Vance Industries.
Julian stepped through right behind her, raising his weapon as he scanned the empty, carpeted corridor. The offices were dead silent, smelling faintly of expensive leather and polished mahogany.
"We made it," Julian whispered, lowering his guard for a fraction of a second.
"Don't celebrate yet," Clara said, her eyes narrowing as she pointed toward the end of the hallway.
May you like
Standing in front of the massive titanium vault door, bathed in the red glow of emergency lighting, was Eleanor Vance herself. She wore a flawless dark evening coat over her beige dress, holding a heavy caliber pistol pointed directly at their chests.
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