Chapter 33 - The Vault
In the absolute darkness, panic is contagious. But I was not panicking. I had memorized the layout of the corridor down to the inch. While the two guards fumbled for their flashlights, cursing loudly into their dead radios, I slipped out of the elevator like a ghost.
I stayed low, pressing my back against the cold concrete wall, moving silently past them.
"Dispatch, this is Sub-Level Two, we have a total grid failure," a guard yelled, the beam of his flashlight wildly sweeping the opposite end of the hall.
I reached the titanium door of the Ghost Vault. Just as I predicted, the primary biometric scanner was dead. In its place, a small, red emergency keypad glowed faintly on the wall, running on an isolated battery backup.
"I'm at the door," I whispered into my earpiece.
"You have five minutes and twenty seconds before the auxiliary generators kick in," Chloe replied, the tension thick in her voice. "Crack it, Anna."
I connected my custom decryption module to the data port beneath the keypad. The screen lit up, running thousands of numeric combinations per second. The keypad was a standard 256-bit encryption. To a normal thief, it was impenetrable. To an auditor who spent her life tearing apart corrupt financial algorithms, it was just math.
I watched the numbers blur on my screen. The guards were still at the other end of the hall, trying to pry open a jammed security door.
Beep. Beep. Click.
The heavy titanium tumblers inside the vault door groaned, releasing their hold. I pushed the massive door open, slipping inside and pulling it shut behind me just as a flashlight beam swept past my location.
The inside of the vault was lined with hundreds of safety deposit boxes. I clicked on a tiny penlight.
"Box 409," I muttered, moving swiftly down the rows.
I found it. The lock was a physical, old-school dual-key system. But Hastings was arrogant; he believed the biometric door was his true defense. He hadn't bothered to upgrade the physical boxes. I pulled a set of tension wrenches from my toolkit and went to work on the tumblers.
My scarred hand moved with fluid, expert precision. The pain of the past was gone, replaced entirely by strength.
Click.
I pulled the metal box out and opened the lid. Inside, resting on top of a stack of bearer bonds, was a thick, black leather-bound ledger.
I flipped it open. The pages were filled with handwritten notes, account numbers, and the names of powerful politicians, judges, and corporate executives. Beside each name was a dollar amount. It was a comprehensive map of decades of corruption.
"I have it," I whispered, shoving the ledger into the inside pocket of my jacket.
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"Anna, get out of there!" Chloe yelled in my ear. "The auxiliary generators are booting up faster than anticipated. You have sixty seconds before the lights come back on and the biometric locks re-engage!"
I slammed the metal box shut, shoved it back into the wall, and rushed toward the vault door. The heist was almost over, but the escape had just begun.
