Chapter 32
The subterranean maintenance tunnels beneath the Zurich Federal Depository smelled of stagnant water, ozone, and old concrete. The darkness was absolute, save for the faint, red glow of the tactical emergency lights. Clara moved silently beside Silas, her crimson suit practically glowing in the dim light, her own compact 9mm pistol gripped firmly in her hand. She had learned to shoot two years ago, after Thorne’s assassins had breached their Chicago penthouse. She had never missed a target since.
A dozen of Silas’s elite enforcers, led by his trusted right-hand man, Marco, flanked them in perfect, soundless formation. They reached a heavy, reinforced steel door marked 'Sector 4 Egress.'
"This is the primary escape route from the VIP vaults," Marco whispered over the secure comms, pressing a thermal scanner against the metal. "I have heat signatures moving rapidly toward this door from the inside. At least eight hostiles."
"Stand by," Silas ordered, his eyes locked on the heavy steel handle. He looked at Clara, giving her a sharp nod.
Clara tapped the screen of her encrypted tablet. "Initiating full lockdown on Sector 3. Dropping the blast doors behind them. They are trapped in the corridor."
A muffled, heavy thud echoed through the concrete walls as the titanium blast doors slammed shut on the other side. Shouts of panic, muffled by the thick steel, reached their ears. Thorne’s men were trapped like rats in a maze.
"Blow the hinges," Silas commanded.
Marco attached two small, shaped C4 charges to the hinges of the door. He signaled for Clara and Silas to step back into the recess of the tunnel.
"Three. Two. One."
The explosion was precise and devastating. The heavy steel door blew outward, crashing onto the floor in a cloud of pulverized concrete and smoke. Silas’s men flooded the breach instantly, their assault rifles raised, sweeping red laser sights through the haze.
"Drop your weapons! Do it now!" Marco roared.
Clara stepped through the smoke, her pistol raised, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her husband. The corridor was littered with debris. Six of Thorne's heavily armed mercenaries were on their knees, their hands locked behind their heads, coughing in the dust.
Standing in the center of the corridor, clutching a silver briefcase, was Alexander Thorne. He was a tall, gaunt man with thinning blonde hair and eyes completely devoid of sanity. He looked at Silas, then at Clara, his arrogant composure finally shattering into sheer, unadulterated terror.
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"You..." Thorne gasped, backing away until his spine hit the locked blast door behind him. "How did you know the bypass codes?"
"I wrote the bypass codes, Alexander," Clara said coldly, stepping forward, her heels clicking menacingly against the ruined floor. "You spent three years trying to outmuscle my husband. You forgot that you had to outsmart me first."
