Chapter 5 - The Siege in the Subterranean Labyrinth"Move!" Grant shouted, shoving the curator hard against the wall and grabbing Sadie by the hand.
They bolted out of the restoration lab just as a burst of suppressed gunfire ripped through the outer corridor, shattering a glass display case and showering the floor with shards of ancient pottery.
"Down the service tunnel!" Sadie yelled, her adrenaline overriding the sharp, stabbing pain in her bruised ribs.
She led Grant toward a heavy metal freight elevator at the end of the hall—a relic from the museum's construction in the early twentieth century that connected the subterranean vaults directly to an old delivery loading dock on Eighty-First Street.
Grant spun around, firing two controlled shots down the corridor to suppress the advancing hitmen, before diving into the elevator car beside Sadie. He slammed the emergency close button just as a hail of bullets impacted the heavy steel doors with deafening metallic thuds.
The old elevator jerked violently to life, beginning its slow, agonizing ascent upward.
"They're going to cut us off at the loading dock," Sadie panted, clutching her side as she leaned against the wood-paneled wall of the car.
"No, they aren't," Grant said, his breathing steady, his focus absolute. He pulled his burner phone from his pocket, pressing speed dial. "Paul. Status."
"We're outside the Eighty-First Street service entrance, boss," Paul Mercer’s voice crackled through the encrypted speaker. "We intercepted two of Valeri’s sedans parked across the alley. My men have the perimeter locked down."
"Ram the loading bay doors, Paul," Grant commanded without hesitation. "We have company coming out the service lift."
"Consider it done, boss."
The elevator groaned to a halt. The manual iron gate clattered open, revealing the damp, concrete expanse of the subterranean delivery bay.
As soon as the gate cleared, the screech of tires echoed off the concrete walls as a black armored SUV crashed directly through the decaying wooden loading bay doors, smashing into a stack of empty crates and sliding to a sudden, controlled stop ten feet from the elevator.
The rear doors flew open. Paul Mercer stepped out with a submachine gun raised, flanked by two heavily armed security operatives.
"Get in!" Paul shouted.
Grant pulled Sadie forward, shielding her body with his own as they scrambled into the back of the armored vehicle.
Before the elevator doors across the loading bay could even fully open, Paul’s men laid down a wall of suppressing fire, driving Valeri’s hitmen back into the shadows of the subterranean tunnels.
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"Drive!" Grant roared.
The SUV squealed in reverse, whipping around in a tight arc, and shot up the loading ramp into the blinding autumn daylight of Eighty-First Street, leaving the museum, the syndicate, and the ghosts of the past far behind.
