This wasn’t a drill. This wasn’t routine. Even the agents’ voices carried a low, worried edge. Daniel clasped Megan’s hand. She didn’t pull away. Below, the agents positioned themselves. Brooks gave a small nod. “On my count,” she said through the radio, her voice echoing faintly. “Three… two… one.” A deep metallic groan reverberated through the floorboards.
Then a sharp hiss. Then the unsettling crackle of pressurized air escaping a space that had been sealed for years. “Seal’s broken,” someone called out, their voice strained. “No visible dispersal.” Megan’s grip tightened painfully around Daniel’s fingers. Below them, metal scraped, hinges screeched, and Halpern’s voice floated upward, muffled behind his mask.