Chapter 5 - The Spark in the Dark
Using the edge of a heavy steel soup ladle, I furiously cranked at the rusted wingnuts securing the maintenance hatch. Rust flaked off into my eyes and scraped against my palms, but with each turn, the metal loosened. With a final heave, the hatch popped free, revealing the narrow vertical cavity of the antique wooden dumbwaiter.
The box hung suspended on thick braided ropes, balanced by iron counterweights. It was small—barely large enough for a child to sit cross-legged—but it was solid oak.
"Okay, baby," I whispered, lifting Mia gently into the box. Her lower lip trembled, but she clutched her tiny hands together and didn't make a sound. "When this box stops moving and the little door opens, you crawl out onto the grass and shout for Marco. Do you remember the name?"
"Mister Marco," Mia whispered bravely, a tear trailing down her cheek. "I tell him the sleeping mister needs help."
"That's my brave girl." I kissed her forehead, pulled the wooden security gate shut, and grabbed the thick hemp pulley rope. Gritting my teeth, I pulled downward with all my strength. The gears groaned, and the box began to rise smoothly through the shaft toward the upper terrace.
I watched the ropes travel until the counterweight clunked softly against the base, indicating the dumbwaiter had reached the top floor. She was out of the basement.
Now came the dangerous part.
I grabbed the plastic jug of cooking oil, twisted off the cap, and doused the wooden shelves, the pantry door frame, and the exposed electrical conduit running along the wall. Next, I took an iron crowbar from the maintenance recess and jammed it directly across the primary terminals of the 220-volt basement junction box.
A blinding blue explosion illuminated the pantry with the force of a lightning strike.
Sparks showered across the room like molten rain, instantly catching the aerosolized oil vapors. A deafening pop echoed through the concrete walls as the main circuit breakers blew. Within seconds, dense black smoke billowed upward, triggering the industrial optical fire sensors on the ceiling.
Instantly, a piercing, high-decibel siren shrieked to life throughout the entire estate.
*"WARNING: FIRE DETECTED IN SUB-LEVEL SECTOR FOUR. EMERGENCY CONTAINMENT OVERRIDE INITIATED."*
The automated fire safety protocol did exactly what building codes mandated: the magnetic locks on the heavy pantry door disengaged with a sharp mechanical thud, and the exterior slide-bolts retracted to allow emergency evacuation.
Outside, heavy footsteps began scrambling down the hallway.
"What the hell is going on down there?!" Bruno's voice bellowed through the smoke.
I grabbed the heavy iron crowbar, stepped behind the partially open door, and held my breath as the thick fumes poured out into the corridor. The door was kicked open, and Bruno stumbled through the haze, a hand shielding his watering eyes and his service pistol drawn.
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"Where is the girl—"
Before he could finish his sentence, I swung the iron bar with every ounce of desperate motherly fury in my body, striking him squarely across the side of his knee. Bruno roared in pain as his leg buckled beneath him, his gun clattering across the slick concrete floor. I didn't hesitate; I drove the heel of my boot into his temple, knocking him flat on his back, scooped up his dropped weapon, and bolted into the smoke-filled hallway.
