The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [77]
He reached round the fans and cut one of the supports farthest from him first. That corner of the rack dropped slightly, rattling. One down. He repeated the task on the other side—
The whole far end of the assembly lurched, the edge of the grille dropping two inches from the opening in the duct. Shit! The fan system was heavier than it looked. He saw that the separate power cords to each fan joined into one thicker cable that disappeared through a hole in the duct roof. A plan formed: cut through the third support, then keep a firm hold on the cable as he severed the last strut to stop the entire thing from crashing down on the vault’s weight-sensitive floor.
He started cutting the first of the nearer supports. Through the grille, he could make out the vault’s interior, dimly lit by emergency lights: another safety feature to help anyone who got locked inside. At least he wouldn’t have to work entirely by the glow of his little head-mounted torch—
The cutter severed the third strut - and the entire fan assembly, grille and all, plunged as the final overstressed support was torn from the ceiling.
Eddie’s free hand lashed out, clamping round the cable as it shot past. The weight slammed his elbow painfully against the edge of the opening. The power line slithered through his sweat-soaked grip. He tossed the cutter across to the other side of the hole and grabbed the cable with his other hand—
Knocking the suction cup over the edge.
If it hit the floor, the alarm would go off . . .
He heard a thump of impact—
The faint sound was not followed by the scream of sirens. Instead, Eddie heard a rapid fluttering like the beating of a moth’s wings. Grimacing at the pain in his arm, he squirmed forward and looked down. The assembly hung an inch above the floor. The suction cup had landed on one of the fans, jammed against the frame as the whirling blades beat against it.
‘What was that noise?’ Karima asked, alarmed.
‘My fan club,’ he rasped, pulling the cable back up. ‘Did those guys hear it?’
‘It doesn’t look like it.’ The vault’s thick walls had muffled the sound.
He hauled up the rack until it was swaying about two feet off the floor, then knotted the cable into a butterfly loop to hold it there. ‘How much time?’
‘Thirteen minutes - but Eddie, they could come back before then.’
‘Yeah, I needed to hear that, Karima. Okay, I’m going to climb down.’
Forcing the cable out of his way, Eddie dragged himself forward. The opening beneath him made movement easier, but he didn’t drop through it - yet. Instead, he pulled himself over the gap, still towing his cargo, then unfastened the strap from his belt, leaving it hanging over the edge, and carefully lowered his legs into the vault.
The fans swung on their makeshift tether, the flapping sound still coming from the suction cup. The pedestal desk containing the security terminal was about two feet to one side. Eddie swung down to land on it with a thump.
He was in!
Leaning down, he recovered the suction cup . . . and realised he was screwed.
The fan blades had slashed a ragged tear in the synthetic rubber. He tested it on the desktop, but knew even before he pulled the lever that it was useless. A pathetic puff of air came through the rip. It couldn’t create a vacuum.
Which meant he had no way to get back through the duct.
‘Buggeration,’ he whispered. He would have to find another way out, and soon.
First things first. He stood and pulled the strap, slowly tugging the case over the edge. It dropped - he caught it, gripping the second strap and dragging the plastic container after it. Both bulky items retrieved, he put them on the desk and opened