Chapter 12
The first pale streaks of dawn were beginning to paint the eastern sky in shades of bruised purple and gold as the taxi pulled away from the curb in front of the Central Federal Bank. Marcus sat inside the car for a moment, staring at his phone screen. The encrypted video feed was dead, displaying a blank error message: Connection lost.
"We're here, pal," the cab driver announced, turning around in his seat. "That’ll be forty-five bucks."
Marcus paid the driver quickly, handing over a hundred-dollar bill and telling him to keep the change. He pushed the door open and stepped out onto the cold stone steps of the bank. The towering marble columns looked ancient and unyielding in the early morning light.
He walked up to the heavy bronze side entrance reserved for executive staff and security personnel. He pulled the small safety deposit box key from his pocket and stared at the engraved serial number stamped into the metal: Vault 409.
Without waiting for the bank to officially open at nine o'clock, Marcus walked around to the side loading dock where an overnight maintenance crew was wheeling in supplies. He slipped past the open loading bay doors while the guard was distracted signing for a delivery.
Navigating the labyrinthine basement corridors of the bank was tricky, but Marcus followed the overhead directional signs toward the subterranean vault level. The air grew noticeably cooler the deeper he went, smelling of polished steel and old paper.
When he reached the massive circular steel door of the primary vault room, a private security guard stepped out from the security desk, raising a hand.
"Hold on, sir. This area is restricted to authorized personnel only," the guard said, eyeing Marcus’s rumpled tuxedo jacket and tired eyes.
Marcus didn't hesitate. He pulled out his wallet, flashed his corporate executive badge from his father’s firm—which still held high-level access clearance—and spoke with absolute, practiced authority.
"Emergency federal audit," Marcus said smoothly, keeping his voice steady. "I have direct authorization from the board to access Vault 409 immediately. Time is critical."
The guard hesitated, looking at the corporate ID badge, then at Marcus’s intense, unyielding gaze. Reluctantly, the guard nodded, walked over to the electronic terminal, and punched in a code. The heavy pneumatic inner door hissed, unlatching with a deep, mechanical thud.
"You have ten minutes before the morning shift arrives," the guard instructed, stepping aside.
May you like
Marcus nodded tersely, stepped through the heavy steel threshold into the brightly lit vault room, and began scanning the rows of safety deposit boxes lining the reinforced walls until his eyes landed on the number: 409.
***
