Chapter 7 - The Wire and the Light
Forty seconds remained on the glowing red timer.
Panic consumed the small tunnel as Blake screamed that we were all going to die.
I ignored him, pressing my face close to the explosive device.
The bomb was wired directly into the electronic locking matrix of the bulkhead door.
Vance had used a simple but deadly fail-safe mechanism.
If the door unlatched, the circuit would break, and the explosive would detonate.
Thirty seconds.
I needed to fool the bomb into thinking the door was still locked while I opened it.
I pulled a small multi-tool from my soaked leather belt.
I pried the plastic casing off the door's control panel.
Twenty seconds.
Camille stood right beside me, holding the flashlight steady without trembling.
She had nerves of steel for a corporate executive.
I found the primary circuit board bridging the lock and the detonator.
I needed a conductive piece of metal to jump the circuit.
I reached up and yanked the silver chain holding Camille's designer necklace.
She did not flinch as the pearls scattered across the concrete floor.
Ten seconds.
I wrapped the silver chain around the positive and negative terminals of the detonator relay.
I prayed the silver was pure enough to carry the current.
Five seconds.
I slammed my hand down on the manual override lever.
The heavy steel latches clanked open with a deafening metallic thud.
Three seconds.
The timer continued to tick down perfectly.
Two seconds.
One second.
The timer hit zero.
Nothing happened.
The silver chain had maintained the electrical loop, preventing the trigger signal.
I pushed the heavy steel bulkhead open, letting fresh air rush into the tunnel.
Everett collapsed against the wall, weeping openly.
I did not give them time to rest.
I ordered them to move through the egress tunnel and climb the maintenance ladder.
We emerged one by one onto a high, rocky plateau above Blackglass Canyon.
The rain had finally stopped, and the gray morning light was breaking through the clouds.
Below us, the canyon was a terrifying river of destruction, but we were safe.
Then, the unmistakable rhythmic thumping of helicopter rotors echoed over the ridge.
A sleek black helicopter crested the mountain, banking sharply toward our position.
Blake cheered, waving his arms frantically at the sky.
He yelled that his father's private security team had finally found us.
I squinted against the wind whipping off the rotors.
The side door of the helicopter slid open.
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There was no rescue basket waiting for us.
There were four men dressed in tactical gear, and they were aiming assault rifles directly at our chests.
