Chapter 8 - The Hidden Vault
The nursery was pitch black, save for the strobing red emergency lights flashing from the courtyard below. Leo and Mia were huddled underneath a heavy oak wardrobe, crying uncontrollably.
"Elra!" Mia shrieked as Elra slid onto the floor beside them, dragging them into her arms.
"I've got you. Stay close, don't make a sound," Elra whispered fiercely, her hands trembling as she unclipped her heavy service belt.
Footsteps pounded heavily down the hallway outside. Heavy tactical boots. The distinct sound of rifle safeties clicking off.
Elra’s mind raced. The panic room Lorenzo had mentioned was on the third floor, but the hallway was blocked by at least three armed men clearing rooms methodically. If she stepped out that door, they would be dead before they took three steps.
She looked around the nursery. Toys, cribs, a large walk-in closet—and an antique floor-length mirror bolted against the brick chimney.
Closer footsteps.
"Clear!" a harsh voice barked from the adjacent room.
Elra grabbed the children, shoving them behind the heavy velvet drapes of the nursery window, whispering, "Stay behind the curtain. Do not breathe."
She crept toward the antique mirror. Remembering the old blueprints of the mansion she had studied during her first week cleaning the estate, she remembered something Henderson had mentioned in passing about the historic architecture of the Moretti house—the original bootlegger tunnels built during prohibition in the 1920s.
She pushed hard against the bottom corner of the heavy wooden mirror frame.
Click.
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With a low, mechanical groan, the mirror swung inward on hidden iron hinges, revealing a dark, narrow stone staircase descending into the absolute bowels of the earth.
Before the door of the nursery was kicked open, Elra grabbed Leo and Mia, pulled them inside, and swung the mirror shut just as a burst of automatic gunfire shredded the nursery wall.
