Chapter 8: The Voice Behind the Steel Door
Adrian's heart slammed against his ribs.
His mother's voice echoed through the speaker mounted beside the sealed steel door.
Cold.
Steady.
Completely without panic.
“You were never the target,” Lady Beatrice repeated.
“You were the obstacle.”
Adrian struck the steel door with both fists.
“Open it!”
His voice thundered through the loading chamber.
On the other side, Oliver began crying again.
The weak sobs cut deeper than any knife.
“Daddy…”
Then came Rose's voice.
“Oliver, stay behind me.”
The sound was muffled by the thick steel, but Adrian recognized the determination in it immediately.
She was terrified.
Yet she was still trying to protect their son.
Adrian forced himself to stop hitting the door.
Anger would not open reinforced steel.
Thinking might.
He turned sharply toward the control panel mounted beside the tunnel entrance.
Rows of switches.
A biometric scanner.
A numeric keypad.
Nothing looked damaged.
Dr. Hayes rushed into the loading chamber with Vivienne and the remaining guard only seconds later.
Their faces immediately changed when they saw the sealed tunnel.
“What happened?” Hayes asked.
“They're inside,” Adrian answered.
“Rose and Oliver.”
Hayes examined the panel.
“This isn't an ordinary security lock.”
Victor Sloane struggled to sit upright against the ambulance.
Blood continued soaking through his white coat.
His face had become almost gray.
“I designed it.”
Hayes looked toward him.
“Can you open it?”
Sloane laughed weakly.
“I could.”
“Twenty years ago.”
“Beatrice changed the authorization system after she took control.”
Adrian walked toward him.
“Tell me another way.”
Sloane stared at the floor for several long seconds.
Then he slowly raised his head.
“There is an emergency maintenance passage.”
“Where?”
“Below the freight platform.”
“How long?”
“If you're lucky...”
He coughed violently.
“...five minutes.”
Adrian looked toward the sealed door again.
He could still hear Oliver crying.
Not loudly.
Weakly.
Exhausted.
Every second mattered.
Vivienne suddenly knelt beside Celeste.
Her sister had been shot in the shoulder.
Blood covered the sleeve of her once-perfect white gown.
Celeste slowly opened her eyes.
“Did... did they take him?”
Vivienne nodded.
Tears immediately filled Celeste's eyes.
“I tried...”
“I know,” Vivienne whispered.
“For the first time... you actually tried.”
Celeste looked toward Adrian.
“I owe Rose more than an apology.”
Adrian answered without anger.
“If Rose and Oliver survive tonight... tell her yourself.”
Those words struck Celeste harder than the bullet.
She lowered her head.
“I don't deserve that chance.”
“No.”
Adrian replied quietly.
“But Oliver deserves every adult in his life finally telling the truth.”
Silence settled over the chamber.
Even Gideon Mercer, still unconscious beside the ambulance after their fight, seemed insignificant compared to the weight of those words.
Hayes suddenly looked toward the unconscious mercenary.
“He'll wake up.”
Adrian nodded toward the guard.
“Handcuff him.”
The guard secured Gideon's wrists and ankles with heavy restraints.
As he searched Gideon's tactical vest, something unexpected fell onto the concrete.
A worn leather wallet.
Inside were several faded photographs.
One immediately caught Adrian's attention.
It showed two boys standing beside an old fishing boat.
One of them was unmistakably a young Charles Blackwood.
The other had Gideon's eyes.
On the back, written in fading blue ink, were four words.
Brothers Until the End.
Adrian frowned.
“Brothers?”
Vivienne leaned closer.
“They look twelve... maybe thirteen.”
Hayes took the photograph.
“This was long before your father built Blackwood Industries.”
Adrian stared at it.
His father had never mentioned another family.
Never mentioned Gideon's father.
Never mentioned a friendship.
Or a betrayal.
Another folded paper slipped from the wallet.
This one was newer.
It contained only a single address.
Blackwood Lake Cabin.
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Our old summer house.”
Vivienne looked surprised.
“I thought it burned down.”
“So did I.”
Hayes folded the paper.
“Perhaps Charles didn't disappear.”
“Perhaps he was hiding.”
Adrian looked at the unconscious Gideon.
“And perhaps everything started long before Oliver was born.”
A metallic clang echoed from inside the tunnel.
Rose.
She was hitting something against the door.
Three slow strikes.
Then three more.
Hayes listened carefully.
“She isn't panicking.”
“She is signaling.”
Adrian placed his ear against the steel.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Sloane smiled faintly.
“She remembers.”
Adrian turned.
“Remembers what?”
“The emergency code.”
He pointed weakly toward the floor.
“The maintenance hatch.”
“She is telling you where it is.”
Adrian immediately searched the concrete.
At first, he saw nothing.
Then, near the ambulance's rear wheel...
A square outline.
Almost invisible beneath years of dust.
The guard pulled a steel hook from the wall and wedged it into the narrow opening.
Together, Adrian and the guard lifted.
The hatch groaned upward.
Cold air rushed from below.
A narrow ladder disappeared into darkness.
Sloane closed his eyes.
“That passage leads beneath the tunnel.”
“You'll come up behind the transport chamber.”
“How many guards?”
“At least four.”
“And if Gideon planned ahead...”
He hesitated.
“There may be more.”
Adrian looked toward Hayes.
“Can Celeste move?”
Hayes quickly examined the wound.
“The bullet passed through.”
“She'll survive.”
“But she shouldn't fight.”
Celeste slowly stood anyway.
“I know the transport chamber.”
Vivienne grabbed her arm.
“You're bleeding.”
“So is Rose.”
Celeste answered softly.
“No more running away.”
Adrian studied her for a moment.
For the first time since the gala began, he believed she meant every word.
He nodded once.
“You stay behind me.”
She agreed without argument.
Adrian turned toward the ladder.
He looked back only once.
Toward the sealed steel door.
Toward the faint sound of Oliver crying for his parents.
His voice was almost gone now.
That frightened Adrian more than the gunfire had.
He climbed down first.
The tunnel beneath was barely high enough to stand.
Ancient brick walls curved overhead.
Water dripped steadily from cracked pipes.
The air smelled of rust and damp earth.
One flashlight illuminated a series of old maintenance arrows painted decades earlier.
Sloane's directions had been accurate.
The passage led exactly beneath the transport tunnel.
Halfway through, Adrian suddenly froze.
Fresh footprints.
Small ones.
Barefoot.
Hayes crouched beside them.
“These aren't Oliver's.”
“No.”
Adrian whispered.
“They're too old.”
Vivienne looked ahead nervously.
“If not Oliver... then whose?”
No one answered.
Because from somewhere deeper in the darkness...
A child's laughter echoed through the tunnel.
Not frightened.
Not sad.
Just... laughing.
Then another child laughed.
And another.
The sound multiplied until it seemed as though dozens of children were somewhere beneath Saint Ormond.
Hayes looked toward Sloane.
His expression had changed completely.
“What didn't you tell us?”
Sloane slowly lowered his eyes.
His silence was answer enough.
May you like
Saint Ormond had never held only one child.
Oliver had never been the only experiment.
