Chapter 7 - The Breach on Floor Forty
The heavy reinforced glass doors of the private elevator shaft shuddered violently with a deafening metallic screech.
BAM.
The sound of an industrial explosive echo through the quiet, luxurious corridors of the forty-fourth floor. Smoke billowed into the hallway as the elevator doors blew outward, showering the polished marble floor with jagged shards of steel and glass.
Three heavily armed men in black tactical gear stepped through the smoke, their assault rifles raised, scanning the room with cold, professional efficiency.
From the shadows of the executive hallway, Giovanni opened fire.
His first shot caught the lead tactical operative squarely in the chest, dropping him instantly. The remaining two gunmen scrambled for cover behind marble pillars, returning fire with suppressive bursts that chewed through expensive mahogany woodwork and shattered decorative vases.
“Fall back to the secure panic room!” Giovanni shouted over the deafening roar of gunfire, firing another controlled shot while retreating toward Cassidy’s office.
Cassidy didn't run. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, but years of living on the edge of financial ruin had taught her one vital truth: panic was a luxury she couldn't afford.
She scrambled across her desk, pulling up the master facility control terminal.
“What are you doing?” Giovanni yelled, grabbing her arm to pull her away. “We have to move now!”
“If I lock down the emergency bulkhead doors,” Cassidy gasped, her fingers flying across the keyboard, “I can trap them in the elevator corridor and cut off their oxygen exchange!”
“Do it!”
Cassidy slammed her palm down on the enter key.
With a heavy, mechanical groan, massive steel fire-doors dropped from the ceiling of the hallway, slamming shut with earth-shattering force just inches from where the two tactical operatives were advancing. The loud thud of men slamming against the other side echoed through the room, followed by muffled shouts in Russian.
The corridor was sealed. They were temporarily safe.
But as Cassidy let out a shaky breath, the main intercom system on her desk crackled to life, overriding the building’s security network.
A cold, smooth voice echoed through the entire fortieth floor.
May you like
“Impressive, Mr. Duca,” a synthesized, heavily accented voice spoke through the speakers. “You think a steel door can keep us out of a glass box? You have ten seconds to walk out into the central atrium and surrender the ledger, or we begin executing your board members one by one.”
---
