Chapter 6
Elias closed the heavy double doors behind him, the brass lock clicking into place with a definitive snap. He stepped fully into the warm, amber light of the study, his sharp eyes darting from Mr. Duca to the terrified little girl in the pale blue dress.
"Sir, why is there a child in your private study at midnight?" Elias asked, his American accent clipped and highly professional.
"Her name is Mia. Her mother is Grace, from the daytime staff," Mr. Duca explained rapidly, not taking his eyes off the massive floor-to-ceiling bookcase. He stood up, his towering, broad-shouldered frame casting a long shadow across the carpet. "Elias, I need you to look at the east wall. The library shelving."
Elias frowned, stepping forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his boss. He evaluated the wall of leather-bound books. "The blueprints show nothing behind that wall, Mr. Duca. It backs up against the exterior stone of the west wing. There's maybe a foot of structural clearance for the chimney flues, but that's it."
"The blueprints are wrong," Mr. Duca stated coldly. He looked down at Mia. "Mia heard knocking. Three distinct strikes against the wood. I heard it too."
Elias’s demeanor shifted instantly from confused to intensely lethal. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, granting himself clear access to his weapon. "A breach inside the house? That's physically impossible, sir. The motion sensors in the perimeter walls would have triggered an alarm if anyone tried to cut through the stone."
"They didn't cut through from the outside, Elias," Mr. Duca replied, his deep voice echoing slightly. "If there is a hidden space behind that bookcase, it was built when the house was constructed a hundred years ago. And someone found a way inside."
Mr. Duca stepped away from Mia, walking slowly toward the center of the bookcase. He kept his movements deliberate and quiet. "Stay with the girls, Elias. Keep yourself between them and the wall."
"Sir, let me handle the wall," Elias protested, moving to intercept him. "If there is a hostile in a blind spot—"
"It is my house, Elias," Mr. Duca interrupted, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate. "And it is my wall."
Mr. Duca approached the dark section of the shelving Mia had pointed out earlier. He scanned the spines of the heavy encyclopedias, the ornate wooden trim, and the subtle seams in the mahogany paneling. His tattooed hands brushed over the wood, feeling for any slight depression, a hidden latch, or a mechanism disguised as architectural detail.
"Whoever is back there," Mr. Duca said over his shoulder, "they heard the vacuum stop. They knocked to get our attention. They want out."
He pressed his hand firmly against a thick, vertical slab of trim that separated two major sections of the shelving. He pushed hard. The wood didn't budge. He tried pulling it, sliding it upward, and finally, he pushed it downward with a surge of brute strength.
With a heavy, grinding click, a metallic latch disengaged deep within the architecture.
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The sound was shockingly loud in the quiet study. Mia gasped, covering her mouth with her raw, red hands. Baby Lily, finally lulled back to sleep, remained quiet against her back.
Slowly, silently, a massive, five-foot-wide section of the heavy bookcase detached from the surrounding structure. It swung inward, pivoting on hidden, heavy-duty steel hinges, revealing a pitch-black void hidden in the very bones of the Beacon Hill mansion.
