“Kirill,” I say, “show me the mains.”
We move to the far wall of the level. The gas line runs in a thick pipe along the ceiling and down into a locked cage. The meterand valve sit inside. There is a small new device bolted to the pipe with a cable that runs to a box on the wall. It hums faintly.
“Remote trigger,” Kirill says. “He can spike pressure or open the valve from his node.”
“Kill it,” I say. “Now.”
He pulls off his glove, presses a small clamp from his kit over the cable, and cuts. The box sparks once and goes dead. “That kills remote,” he says. “We still have local pressure, but nothing will surge from the outside.”
“Close the valve,” I say.
He wrenches it shut. The wheel squeals. After a moment, the needle on the meter drops.
“So the bathhouse will not blow in twenty minutes,” Raina says.
“Not from this,” Kirill answers.
“Good,” I say. “Vlad, you stay here with two men. You go to the manager’s office. You tell them they had a fault and we fixed it. You call our contact at gas services, you report a leak, and you let the city send a crew to check the rest. You keep my name off the forms. You also keep eyes on any stray new face who comes near this block in the next hour. Anyone who smells wrong, you take a picture and you take him down if he runs.”
Vlad nods once. “Understood,” he says.
“What about the tablet?” Raina asks.
I pick it up and feel the weight. The timer is at sixteen minutes. The feed still shows my hallway door and the lobby box.
“He wants us to stand here and watch this count,” I say. “We don’t give him that. We take his camera and move it.”
I hand the tablet to Kirill. “Put this in the staff locker room on the first level, screen up. Leave it on a bench under the window. If he wants to see panic, he can watch his own empty house.”
Kirill takes it and goes.
Raina steps closer to me. “You are sure the gas is neutral?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “I know this system. Remote is dead. Valve is shut. Any fire here now is local and small. Vlad can handle a match. The Courier wanted us trapped. It is not going to work. The only real threat left is at our door.”
She nods. The muscles in her face move once.
“Then we get back to her,” she says.
“Yes,” I say.
We move fast back through the corridors and up the stairs. The bathhouse stays quiet behind us. No sirens yet. No alarms. Just that old steam smell and the echo of our boots.
In the alley, the air hits my face. I draw a breath that tastes cleaner than it has any right to. We climb into the SUV. Vlad trades places with Kirill, who slides behind the wheel now. Vlad stays with his two men at the service door.
“Don’t let anyone touch that gas cage,” I tell him through the open window. “If a worker opens it, you watch his hands. If he goes near the new device, you ask who sent him. You record every word.”
He gives me a short nod that means more than a speech.
Kirill starts the engine. Raina pulls her seat belt across her chest with shaking fingers, then sets her hand on my thigh, not for comfort but to anchor herself.
“Keep me updated on radio,” I tell Vlad. “Short bursts only. No names, no locations. You say number three if something moves.”
“Number one if all quiet, number three if fire, number five if visitor,” he says. “I remember.”
The car pulls away from the curb. The bathhouse shrinks in the mirror.
“Lights on,” I say. “No more hiding. We’re done creeping.”
