Chapter 4 - The Sub-Basement
The fire alarm was the perfect cover. Guests were being evacuated, and the security grid was thrown into automated chaos. Clara kicked off her diamond-encrusted heels, running barefoot down the emergency stairwell, her massive satin gown rustling loudly.
She reached the sub-basement. It was a concrete labyrinth of wine cellars and utility rooms. Using her master keycard, she bypassed the security locks and navigated toward the sound of heavy voices.
She peered around a concrete pillar. Two Sterling Corporation fixers—men who worked directly for Arthur Sterling—were standing outside a heavy steel utility door.
"The old man wants him gone before the cops arrive," one of the fixers muttered, checking a suppressed pistol. "Make it look like an overdose."
Clara’s blood ran cold. They were going to murder the witness.
She needed a distraction. Clara gripped the heavy brass scissors she had taken from the bathroom. She crept toward a massive electrical breaker panel on the wall. Praying she wouldn't electrocute herself, she jammed the brass handles into the primary lighting conduit and threw herself backward.
A shower of blue sparks erupted, followed by a loud POP. The entire sub-basement plunged into pitch darkness.
"What the hell?!" one of the guards yelled.
In the confusion, Clara slipped past them in the dark, swiped her card on the utility door, and pulled herself inside, locking it behind her.
The room was illuminated only by a single red emergency bulb. The young man from the ballroom was handcuffed to a metal pipe, bleeding from his nose.
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He looked up, terrified, until he saw the white dress. "You're the bride."
"I am," Clara whispered frantically, searching the room for keys. "Who are you? Tell me everything. Fast. They are coming to kill you."
