Chapter 7 - The Shadows in the Rafters
"Elena! Get down!"
Miller’s warning shout shattered the moment.
From an iron catwalk suspended thirty feet above the kiln floor, a high-caliber rifle shot shattered the concrete two inches from Elena’s knee.
Elena instantly rolled onto her side, shielding Grace beneath her body and her heavy wool coat as a second bullet slammed into the cot behind them.
Standing on the high catwalk, framed against the dark sky visible through the open top of the concrete chimney, was a man in an expensive grey overcoat—Dr. Adrian Vance, the former chief of pediatrics at Northfield Regional Hospital who had vanished eighteen months earlier during a state financial audit.
Vance held a sleek hunting rifle aimed directly at the center of the room.
"You should have stayed in Northfield, Mrs. Mercer," Vance’s voice boomed through the echoing concrete cylinder, smooth, arrogant, and entirely devoid of mercy. "This facility was meant to be cleared quietly hour from now. You’ve ruined a forty-million-dollar logistics operation!"
"You sold children, Vance!" Miller roared from behind an iron pillar near the entrance, firing two shots up toward the catwalk. The bullets struck the steel handrail, sending bright yellow sparks showering into the darkness.
"I gave them to families who could afford to protect them!" Vance spat back, racking the bolt of his rifle. "The world is crumbling, Detective! These children were resources!"
On the floor beneath Elena’s coat, Grace looked up into her mother’s eyes. She wasn't crying anymore. Her hazel eyes were calm, fierce, and remarkably focused.
"Mommy," Grace whispered, reaching into her oversized sweater pocket. "The big lever behind the heater. The one with the red handle."
Elena looked toward the wall five feet away. A heavy iron emergency cut-off lever for the industrial exhaust fan sat mounted to the brickwork, marked EMERGENCY VENTILATION - DANGER.
"What does it do, sweetie?" Elena whispered back.
"It turns on the big wind," Grace said quietly. "It blows all the dust from the bottom."
Elena looked up at Vance on the catwalk directly above the floor vents. The floor beneath his catwalk was covered in fifty years of accumulated, dry limestone powder and coal dust.
Elena looked at Miller across the room. She held up three fingers, pointing toward the red lever, then pointing toward the overhead fans.
Miller understood instantly. He raised his revolver, aiming toward the high electrical junction box mounted above the catwalk.
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"Now, Frank!" Elena screamed.
She lunged across the floor, throwing her full weight onto the heavy red lever.
