Harrington Vault.”
Suddenly, the wail of police sirens echoed in the distance. The FBI was approaching to collect Graham.
Vivian’s head snapped toward the sound. She realized the surface world was lost to her. She had no money, no power, and soon, the authorities would be swarming the estate.
With surprising speed, Vivian turned and sprinted toward the grand double doors of the mansion.
“Stop her!” Marcus shouted.
Two operatives bolted up the stairs, but Vivian was already inside. She slammed the heavy oak doors shut. We heard the distinct clack of the steel deadbolts sliding into place.
“Breach the door!” I ordered.
As the operatives raised their battering rams, a deep, mechanical groan reverberated through the very foundation of the estate. The snow at our feet seemed to vibrate.
“What is that?” Nora gasped, backing away.
Graham looked up, his eyes wide with a new, distinct terror. “The wine
cellar. There’s a subterranean tunnel. My father built it during the renovations. I thought it was just a bunker.”
The lights inside the mansion suddenly cut out, plunging the massive estate into absolute darkness. Seconds later, a dull, pulsing red emergency light flared from the grated basement windows at the east wing.
My phone vibrated violently in my hand. An unknown number.
I answered it, putting it on speaker.
“You think you’ve won, Evelyn?” Vivian’s voice echoed through the speaker, breathless and echoing in a cavernous space. “You took my company, but I have the vault. And I have the reserve.”
“Vivian, there is nowhere to run. The FBI is at the gates.”
“Let them come,” she hissed. “By the time they figure out how to breach the blast doors down here, I’ll have extracted what I need. I still have the source, Evelyn.”
A scuffling sound came through the
