Chapter 17 - The Iron TrapThe air in office 304 felt immediately heavy, starved of fresh ventilation. I checked the laptop on the desk. The command-line prompt wasn't running a file wipe anymore; it was running a high-voltage thermal surge script directed at the third-floor electrical circuit board.
A faint, acrid smell of burning insulation drifted through the ceiling vents.
They weren't just locking me in to escape—they were trying to burn the evidence by triggering an electrical fire.
I dropped to my knees, pulled my heavy steel wrench from my tool belt, and wedged it into the wooden frame of the door lock. I threw my entire body weight against the handle, leverage screaming against metal, but the commercial deadbolt held firm.
The overhead lights flickered violently, then went pitch black. Emergency battery-backed red strips illuminated the floor.
I needed a heavy lever. I looked around the room. Heavy mahogany desk, executive leather chair, filing cabinet.
I ran to the steel filing cabinet, yanked the bottom drawer open, and used it as a stepping stone to reach the heavy decorative bronze lamp bolted to the wall. With a sharp wrench and a violent twist, I snapped the bronze mounting bracket off the drywall, holding a three-foot metal pipe in my hands.
"Let's see how tough you are," I gritted my teeth.
I jammed the end of the bronze pipe into the narrow gap between the door and the wooden jamb, right beside the deadbolt latch. I braced my boots against the wall and pulled with every ounce of strength left in my body.
CRACK!
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The wooden door frame splintered inward with a loud explosion of splinters and torn metal. The deadbolt snapped, and the door swung wide open.
I tumbled out into the hallway, coughing violently as thick black smoke began pouring from the ceiling vents.
