Chapter 6 - The Vault
"Up the stairs, now!" Viktor roared, pushing me ahead of him.
I scrambled up the wooden staircase, my hands slipping on the polished banister.
Gunfire erupted from the foyer below, splintering the stairs beneath Viktor's feet.
He returned fire blindly over his shoulder, dropping one of the dirty cops in the hallway.
We reached the second floor and sprinted into the master bedroom.
Viktor locked the heavy door, but we both knew it would only hold them for a few seconds.
"The fire escape," I yelled, pointing to the large window overlooking the alley.
Viktor smashed the glass with the butt of his gun and kicked the remaining shards away.
We climbed out onto the rusted iron grating just as the bedroom door splintered behind us.
The freezing wind bit through my thin waitress uniform as we descended the metal stairs.
We hit the alley floor and ran toward the bustling chaos of the main avenue.
We melted into a crowd of late-night tourists, using their sheer numbers to cover our escape.
"We need a car," Viktor breathed heavily, spotting a sleek black sedan parked at the curb with the engine running.
He approached the driver's side, tapped his pistol against the glass, and yanked the door open.
The terrified civilian driver scrambled out, leaving the vehicle entirely to us.
Viktor jumped behind the wheel, and I dove into the passenger seat.
He floored the accelerator, weaving violently through the Manhattan traffic toward the financial district.
"We have seven minutes," Viktor announced, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
We skidded to a halt in front of a massive, imposing stone building on Wall Street.
The bronze plaque next to the heavy doors read: Corvinus Historical Vaults.
Viktor did not bother knocking; he kicked the glass door open, shattering the lock.
An elderly night guard reached for an alarm button, but Viktor threw a stack of cash onto his desk.
"I need vault 404, and I need it open ten seconds ago," Viktor demanded.
The guard looked at the money, then at Viktor's bloody suit, and silently handed over a master keycard.
We ran to the elevator and descended deep into the bedrock of the city.
The subterranean vault room was lined with thousands of small, steel safety deposit boxes.
I found box 404 and Viktor jammed the key into the lock, turning it with brutal force.
He pulled the metal drawer out and flipped the lid open.
My heart soared with hope, fully expecting to see the thick, legal document that would save our lives.
Instead, the metal box was completely empty.
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Sitting alone in the center of the velvet lining was a single, pristine white chess piece.
It was a knight.
