Chapter 5
I counted to thirty.
Gabriel did not come.
The alarm screamed through the stone.
Water spread across the floor and soaked my shoes.
He had promised thirty seconds.
I stopped waiting at thirty.
Behind the wine racks, the old dumbwaiter shaft ran to the ground-floor pantry.
My father had shown it to me when I was twelve and made me climb it once with a safety rope.
There was no rope now.
I dragged myself onto the rack with one good hand and smashed a wine bottle against the painted panel.
The first hit cracked the wood.
The third opened a hole wide enough for my shoulders.
I climbed into the shaft.
The cable burned through the cloth around my injured palm.
Brick scraped both knees.
Twice my boot slipped and left me hanging in the dark.
I kept climbing.
At the pantry level, I kicked through the thin door and fell onto a stack of linen bags.
The kitchen was empty.
Emergency lights flashed over steel counters and the cake inside the walk-in cooler.
Our initials were still there.
I left them behind.
The lobby was packed with guests, firefighters, and armed Ruscetti men.
Gabriel stood near the front desk with Sloane at his side.
He saw the blood on my hand and came toward me.
I walked past him.
On the reception desk sat my sealed badge, the stained route card, and a new brass key on a cheap silver ring.
"Recovered from the ambush site," Sloane said. "The copy used to enter your office."
I picked it up.
My office and my father's liquor cabinet used the same old lock.
The cabinet stood ten feet away.
I pushed the key into it.
It fit.
It would not turn.
Victor stepped closer.
So did three of the men who had bet on me.
I held up the useless key.
"This never opened my office."
Sloane's eyes stayed on mine.
"A poor copy proves nothing."
"It proves you locked me underground without testing the evidence."
I dropped the key on the marble.
"Or you already knew it was fake."
The guests heard me.
So did the firefighters.
Sloane could not make the room forget.
Gabriel took the radio from her hand.
"Until the key is checked, you don't command my men."
Then the lobby doors opened.
Two guards dragged Elaine Porter inside.
My head housekeeper's uniform was torn at one shoulder.
Blood marked her cuff.
She looked smaller between the men than she ever had behind the front desk.
Gabriel turned toward her.
"Who gave you the route?"
I looked at Elaine.
I had nearly died protecting the names in her emergency file.
She would not meet my eyes.
"Maren did."