We're going in armed because I don't know what we'll be facing. "Angelica described it as a rusted iron panel set into the floor, sealed with concrete around the edges but still accessible if you know where to look." I'm not sure what to expect.
Gerard has been two steps ahead of us this entire time, so much so that I've kept even my closest guards out.
Only Angelica, Rico, Marco, and I know about this for now.
I can't afford for someone to tip my hand even inadvertently.
Rico nods. "And if he has guards watching it?"
"Then we abort and find another entry point. We're not here to fight. We're here to verify the tunnel exists and determine whether it's usable."
Marco leans forward from the back.
"What if the tunnel’s collapsed and Angelica's information is wrong, Boss?"
"Then we're back where we started with no solution and two days left on the deadline."
I give them a stern expression as I hide my gun inside the jumpsuit and reach for the door handle.
We exit the van and walk toward the club carrying toolboxes and a handheld device that looks like a thermal scanner.
I got the uniforms from the man who owns the HVAC business to ensure we look legitimate.
I just pray no one recognizes my face.
But the bouncer at the door barely glances at us.
He waves us through and points toward the kitchen entrance at the rear of the main floor.
The club is packed.
Bodies press together on the dance floor as the bass from the speakers vibrates through my chest.
Strobe lights flash in rhythm with the music that makes it impossible to hear anything else.
We move through the crowd toward the back hallway and not a soul stops us or asks a question.
For all they know, we've been called in by their boss and we're here to make sure their heat is working.
The kitchen is loud and chaotic.
Cooks shout orders.
Pans clatter on the stovetop.
Steam rises from industrial dishwashers.
We pass through quickly and find the service corridor on the far side.
The hallway is narrow and dim with exposed pipes running along the ceiling.
I count my steps the way Angelica described.
Fifteen paces from the kitchen door, then I look down.
The grate is exactly where she said it would be, a rusted iron panel set flush with the concrete floor.
The edges are sealed but the metal itself looks worn.
