Chapter 5 - The Locked Box
The storage facility was completely abandoned, illuminated only by a few flickering orange streetlamps.
Daniel cut the headlights of the sedan and parked silently behind a row of empty moving trucks.
"Stay in the car," Daniel ordered, chambering a round in his pistol.
"Not a chance," Martin replied, grabbing the rifle he had taken from the warehouse.
Sarah stayed reluctantly in the back seat, locking the heavy armored doors as they stepped out.
The night air was freezing, biting through Martin's thin sweater as they approached unit number 404.
The metal roll-up door was pushed all the way to the ceiling, revealing a pitch-black interior.
Daniel clicked on a small tactical flashlight, sweeping the beam across the deep concrete room.
Hundreds of dusty cardboard boxes were stacked haphazardly against the back wall.
"Are these all the shoes?" Daniel whispered, keeping his gun raised.
"Yes, every single one of them," Martin confirmed, stepping cautiously into the unit.
They moved quickly, ripping open the first box they could reach.
Martin pulled out a heavy leather boot, twisted the thick rubber heel, and popped it open.
Inside, wrapped tightly in plastic, was a thick roll of hundred-dollar bills.
"It's still here," Martin breathed a sigh of relief.
Daniel tossed Martin a heavy canvas duffel bag he had grabbed from the trunk of his car.
"Start breaking them open and packing the cash, we don't have much time."
For ten minutes, the only sound in the unit was the tearing of cardboard and the snapping of dry leather.
They had filled two large duffel bags with nearly half a million dollars in cash.
Suddenly, a loud metallic screech echoed through the quiet facility.
The heavy steel roll-up door violently slammed shut, plunging them into absolute darkness.
Martin dropped a shoe, his heart hammering in his chest.
Daniel immediately rushed to the door, shoving his fingers under the edge, trying to lift it.
"It's magnetically locked from the outside," Daniel grunted, straining against the heavy steel.
A bright fluorescent light flickered on from the ceiling, blinding them both temporarily.
They were trapped inside a solid concrete box with no windows and no other exits.
Then, a harsh static noise crackled from a small ventilation speaker in the corner of the ceiling.
"Put the bags near the door, Martin."
Martin froze completely, the blood freezing in his veins.
The voice was distorted by the cheap speaker, but he recognized it instantly.
It was a voice he hadn't heard in over ten years.
A voice he thought was buried in a cemetery on the south side of the city.
"Evelyn?" Martin whispered, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
"I told you I would come back for what was mine," his dead wife replied coldly through the speaker.
Daniel looked at Martin in absolute shock.
"Your wife died in a car crash ten years ago," Daniel said, confused.
"Apparently not," Martin said bitterly, staring up at the speaker.
"Slide the money under the ventilation gap at the bottom of the door, or I'll turn off the oxygen circulator," Evelyn threatened.
Martin felt a deep, agonizing pain rip through his chest, realizing his entire life of mourning had been a lie.
He looked down at the duffel bags filled with dirty money, then up at the locked steel door.
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"You can have the money, Evelyn," Martin yelled toward the speaker.
"But you aren't leaving this facility alive," he added, pulling the pin on a flashbang grenade he had quietly slipped from Daniel's belt.
