PART 7 – In the Heart of the City
Rain lashed against the windshield of the old maintenance van as we entered the city suburbs. The neon lights of the shops and the headlights of oncoming traffic reflected on the wet asphalt. My hands gripped the armrest tightly. The thought that Thomas had put a safe-deposit box in my name without my knowledge left me speechless.
"Why would he do that?" I whispered, as if talking to myself. "Why would he involve me in such a dangerous matter?"
"Because he knew you were the one person the people behind this conspiracy would never suspect," Daniel answered as he nimbly maneuvered through the busy city traffic. "To the outside world, you were just a retired bus driver. Nobody paid attention to you. That made you the perfect vault."
We pulled up on a quiet side street, a few hundred yards away from the impressive marble building of the Capital Security Depot. It was one of those exclusive private security firms where the city's wealthy stored their valuables, art, and confidential documents. The building looked like an impenetrable fortress, equipped with dozens of cameras and heavy glass doors.
Daniel turned off the engine and looked at his watch. It was ten past eleven in the evening.
"The depot is open twenty-four hours a day for elite clients," Daniel said. "But we have to be careful. If Vance and his men figure out we fled to the city, this building will be the first place they watch."
He pulled out his gun, checked the magazine, and slid it deep into his inner pocket. Then he looked at me. Seeing the fear in my eyes, he took my hand. His palms were warm and strong.
"Arthur," he said in a soft, almost childlike voice that instantly reminded me of the nine-year-old boy on the front seat of my bus. "When I was little and had nothing, you gave me hope. You showed me that good people still exist in the world. Whatever happens tonight, I will make sure nothing happens to you."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "Let's finish this, Daniel. For Thomas. And for your father."
We stepped out of the van. Daniel turned up his coat collar and I pulled my large hood deep over my face. Together, we walked with quick strides toward the imposing entrance of the vault depot.
The sliding glass doors opened silently. Inside, the lobby was illuminated with soft, warm light. The floor was made of polished black granite, and the walls were paneled in dark wood. Behind a brushed steel counter sat a man in a sharp, dark blue suit with a gold nametag on his chest.
He looked up in surprise as we walked in—an odd pair: a sharply dressed, serious man and an old woman in an oversized coat with dirty clothes.
"Good evening," the receptionist said with a forced smile that betrayed suspicion. "How may I help you?"
"The lady is here to request access to her vault," Daniel said in a professional, businesslike tone.
"Do you have an appointment or a client number, ma'am?" the man asked.
I took a step forward and tried to keep my voice from trembling. "My name is Arthur Van Dijk. I am here for vault number 408."
The man typed the name into his computer. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, his eyebrows rising. He looked intently at me, then back at the screen.
"Mrs. Van Dijk..." he said slowly. "Your profile indicates that a special security instruction applies to this vault."
Daniel subtly stepped closer to the counter, his hand near his inner pocket. "What kind of instruction?"
"If Mrs. Van Dijk were to appear, we were instructed to immediately contact the legal representative of the account," the receptionist said. He reached for the phone on his desk.
"Wait!" Daniel called out fiercely.
But before the receptionist could lift the receiver, we heard the screech of tires outside the building.
Through the glass windows, we saw two black cars pull onto the sidewalk at high speed. The doors flew open and four armed men in dark clothing rushed toward the entrance. Leading the group was Vance, his face tense with rage and a bleeding scrape across his forehead.
"They're here!" I screamed.
Tactically, Daniel leaped over the steel counter, grabbed the receptionist by his lapels, and slammed the security button under the desk. A loud alarm began to wail, and heavy steel roll-up doors slowly began descending in front of the glass entrance.
"Faster!" Vance roared from outside. One of his men fired a shot at the glass, which shattered into thousands of safety shards just before the steel shutter hit the floor with a heavy thud.
The receptionist trembled with fear. "What is going on here?!"
"The key to vault 408! Now!" Daniel shouted, showing the man the copper key. "And take us to the vault room before they break through that shutter!"
The receptionist nodded wildly, grabbed an electronic passkey, and ran toward the heavy steel door behind the counter. We followed right on his heels, while the deafening sound of cutting torches outside revealed that Vance and his men were trying to force their way through the shutter.
