Chapter 6 - Into the Deep BlueThe rain began to pour over Guadalajara at midnight, slicking the pavement and sending sheets of water cascading into the drainage grates.
Mariana stood at the entrance of the public library’s basement storage room, clad in dark rain gear and holding a heavy flashlight. Behind her, Mateo Silva watched from the shadows of an unmarked sedan parked in the alleyway. Óscar was sitting in the back seat of Mateo’s car, trembling, handcuffed to the door handle for "safekeeping."
Mariana unlocked the rusted iron door that led into the city's old utility tunnels—a forgotten labyrinth built beneath the historic district decades ago.
"You have forty minutes," Mateo’s voice crackled through a small earpiece fitted into Mariana’s ear. "The cartel guards outside Teresa's building rotate shifts every hour. Get into apartment 3B, grab the key from the vanity, and get back out."
"What about Óscar?" Mariana asked, her voice echoing in the damp tunnel.
"Focus on your job, Mariana," Mateo replied sternly over the comms. "Save your husband first. You can divorce him later."
Mariana swallowed hard, clicked on her flashlight, and stepped into the darkness.
The air inside the tunnel was thick with the smell of damp earth, rust, and sewage. Rats scurried across the pipes overhead as Mariana navigated the treacherous, slippery path. She had used these maintenance passages once before during a library renovation, but in the pitch black of night, it felt like descending into hell.
After fifteen minutes of agonizing navigation, she reached the vertical access ladder that led directly up into the boiler room of Teresa’s apartment complex.
She climbed the rusted rungs, her breath coming in heavy gasps. Reaching the top, she pushed open the heavy brass hatch and slipped into the dark basement of the residential building.
Silence hung heavy over the building. She crept up the service stairs, avoiding the creaky wooden steps, until she reached the third floor.
Apartment 3B.
The yellow police tape hanging over the door had been torn away. The door was unlocked, slightly ajar.
Mariana’s heart pounded against her ribs. She slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind her.
The apartment was trashed. Drawers had been pulled out, couch cushions slashed open, and papers scattered across the floor. The cartel had already been here searching for the ledger.
She rushed into the master bedroom. The wooden vanity mirror was shattered, but the small hidden drawer beneath the main table remained intact. She pressed the secret latch beneath the wood—a trick Teresa had once bragged about years ago during a family holiday.
CLICK.
The secret drawer popped open. Inside lay a plain manila envelope.
Mariana tore it open. Out fell a small, silver brass key engraved with the number 709.
"I have it," Mariana whispered into her earpiece. "Mateo, I have the key."
Silence met her over the comms.
"Mateo? Do you copy?"
May you like
Static hissed in her ear. Then, a voice spoke through the receiver—but it wasn't Mateo Silva.
"Very impressive, Mariana," a smooth, unfamiliar voice said over the frequency. "You saved Commander Silva a lot of legwork. Now... leave the key on the bed, and turn around slowly."
