Chapter 5 - Descent into Pier 9
The air beneath Pier 9 smelled of rusted iron, rotting kelp, and centuries of stagnant harbor water.
We moved through the abandoned subterranean tunnels in total darkness, our footing treacherous on the slick, slime-covered concrete floors. Elias walked in front, holding a high-powered tactical flashlight, his Glock drawn and held low at his side. I followed closely behind, clutching a heavy metal crowbar in my right hand, the copper key swinging safely on a chain around my neck beneath my jacket.
“Watch your step here,” Elias muttered over his shoulder, shining the light down onto a rusted iron ladder bolted directly into the damp granite wall. “This leads down into the dry-dock drainage chamber.”
Descending the ladder felt like crawling down the throat of a beast. The sound of our boots echoing off the concrete walls was deafening in the enclosed space.
At the bottom of the ladder was a heavy, watertight steel bulkhead door, its green paint flaking off in large, wet sheets. In the center of the door was a circular brass locking mechanism, covered in decades of green corrosion.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I stepped past Elias, my hands shaking as I pulled the copper key out from under my jacket. I stepped up to the bulkhead door, brushed away the thick layer of salt-crust and grime from the keyhole, and slid the heavy piece of metal inside.
It didn't turn at first. The tumblers were rusted solid.
“Here,” Elias murmured, stepping up behind me, placing his large, warm hand over mine, guiding the pressure. Together.
With a sudden, explosive clack, the internal gears gave way. The heavy bronze mechanism turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees.
May you like
I pulled the bulkhead door open.
Inside the small, dry concrete alcove sat a heavy, water-sealed copper lockbox, glowing softly in the beam of our flashlights.
