Chapter 4 - Box 412
The basement of the bank smelled of wet limestone, old paper, and the cold, metallic tang of secure vault steel.
Lily used a small plastic flashlight she had found in a dumpster behind the auto parts store three weeks ago. Its beam was weak and yellow, its batteries dying, but it was enough to illuminate the stone steps leading up to the main floor.
She moved like a shadow through the silent tellers' cages, her feet making no sound on the marble tiles. The safe deposit vault was located behind a heavy gate of iron bars at the back of the room. The gate was locked, but the spacing between the bars was ten inches—wide enough for a malnourished seven-year-old girl to slide through sideways.
Lily held her breath, her ribs scraping against the cold iron as she forced her body through the gap. She tore her jacket further at the waist, but she didn't care. She was through.
The safe deposit boxes lined the walls from floor to ceiling, thousands of small, steel drawers with brass number plates. Lily scanned the rows with her failing flashlight.
200... 300...
She found it near the bottom corner of the western wall. 412.
The box had two keyholes. One was for the bank’s master key, which was usually required to open the lock. Lily’s heart dropped into her throat. Lawrence had given her only one key.
“No,” she whispered, her voice cracking in the vault. “Please.”
She knelt before the box, examining the mechanism. The bank had been abandoned for administrative purposes for three years; the master cylinders had been set to "override" status so the remaining box holders could access their property via their personal keys without an attendant present. The master keyhole was already turned ninety degrees.
Lily pulled the silver key from her shoe. Her sock was stained with gray grease, and her heel was raw, but she didn't notice. She inserted the key into the remaining slot.
It turned with a heavy, satisfying clack that echoed like a pistol shot in the small vault.
Lily pulled the steel drawer out. Inside was a single, black leather pouch secured with a zipper. She opened it and found a heavy metallic flash drive, its casing stamped with the initials L.V. Alongside it was a small piece of folded paper with a handwritten note: “For Catherine, when the wolves come.”
She stuffed the drive into her inner pocket, right next to her chest, and zipped her jacket to her chin.
Suddenly, the lights in the main lobby clicked on.
Not the warm, yellow maintenance lights. The harsh, white halogen emergency lights. A heavy voice boomed through the building from the front entrance.
May you like
“Check the vault gate. Arthur said the kid might have a key to the old man’s boxes.”
Lily killed her flashlight. She looked at the iron gate—the only way out of the vault. Two men in dark security uniforms were standing in the lobby, their flashlights cutting through the glass tellers' cages. They were coming straight for her.
