Chapter 25 - The Subterranean Vault
The descent was made via an ancient spiral staircase of welded iron, spiraling down through solid granite beneath the foundation of Manhattan. The air grew progressively colder, thick with the scent of ozone, damp stone, and ancient mineral oil.
Every step Julian took felt heavy with the weight of an erased legacy. For ten years, he had believed himself an orphan fighting against an indifferent world, an academic striver trying to claw his way out of poverty while his mother and sister mocked his ambition. But as the iron steps gave way to an arched hallway lined with vacuum-tube racks and humming copper conduits, he realized he had been walking inside his father’s architectural mind all along.
"This facility was built in 1962 for military command continuity," Vance explained between laboured breaths, clinging to the iron handrail. "David bought the decommissioned deed through a blind shell corporation before Meridian was even incorporated. When we split—when the disagreement happened—he sealed this level."
"And you never tried to blast it open?" Julian asked coldly.
"We did," Vance admitted. "In 2014. We brought diamond-tipped mining drills down here. The moment the drill bit touched the outer bulkhead, a logic bomb activated in Meridian’s trading desk, wiping four billion dollars of market cap in three seconds. David sent a clear message: touch the vault, and Meridian burns to ash."
At the end of the corridor stood a massive hexagonal door. In its center was not a keypad, nor a retinal scanner, but an antique bronze dial flanked by two glass prism plates.
The timer in Julian’s head was running out.
`00:28:44`
As Julian approached the door, the prism plates illuminated with a faint, violet luminescence. A low, synthesized chime sounded from hidden speakers within the masonry.
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Julian hesitated for only a second. He reached out and pressed his right palm against the cold, smooth surface of the glass prism.
