Chapter 4 - The Automated Trap
I stared at the blinking red lock on the heavy steel door.
Doctor Blake was using the mansion's smart system to frame me perfectly.
If the police found me locked in this room with a dead body and a bag of cash, I would spend the rest of my life in prison.
I had less than ten minutes before the local authorities breached the estate gates.
I frantically searched the dead woman's pockets for any kind of master keycard.
I found a heavy ring of old-fashioned brass keys that the automated system could not control.
I looked around the office and spotted a manual maintenance hatch hidden behind a tall bookshelf.
I used a heavy brass lamp to smash the bookshelf glass and pushed the heavy furniture out of the way.
One of the brass keys perfectly fit the old rusted lock on the maintenance hatch.
I crawled into the dark, dusty crawlspace just as I heard heavy boots running down the main hallway.
I navigated the narrow tunnels, listening to the automated system lock down section after section of the house.
The temperature inside the crawlspace suddenly plummeted to a freezing degree.
Doctor Blake had overridden the climate control to freeze me out of the walls.
My fingers turned completely numb as I crawled toward the east wing where the boys were sleeping.
I reached a floor grate that looked directly down into Vincent's master study.
Vincent was violently throwing a heavy bronze statue against the steel shutters covering his windows.
He was trapped inside his own office, completely unable to reach his dying sons.
I kicked the floor grate with both feet until the metal snapped and gave way.
I dropped down into the study, landing heavily on the mahogany desk.
Vincent spun around with a golf club raised, ready to strike an intruder.
He dropped the club when he realized it was me, his face pale with exhaustion and fear.
I quickly explained that Doctor Blake had hijacked the house and murdered Mrs. Harper.
Vincent's eyes widened in sheer disbelief, but he did not have time to argue.
I told him we needed to manually disable the house's central server to stop the lockdown.
He said the main server room was located in the basement, which was currently flooded with security guards on Blake's payroll.
I remembered the complex blueprints of historical mansions I had worked in before.
I asked if his deceased wife, Isabella, had a private office that remained untouched.
Vincent hesitated, pain flashing across his tired face.
He admitted that her private study had been permanently sealed since the day she died four years ago.
I told him that the camera feeds were broadcasting to a local IP address based entirely in her old wing.
Vincent grabbed his heavy golf club, his eyes finally burning with lethal determination.
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We sprinted down the dark, freezing hallway toward the sealed wing of the dead woman.
We smashed the heavy glass door of Isabella's study, completely unprepared for what was waiting inside.
