Chapter 3 - THE LABYRINTH OF GLASS

Her stiletto heels pounded against the imported marble tiles of the grand hallway.
Each step cracked like a whip in the cavernous space.
She abandoned the party, leaving the jazz music and the startled gasps of the guests far behind her.
She sprinted down the corridor.
The walls here were entirely lined with floor-to-ceiling antique mirrors.
A hundred fractured reflections of the red-haired woman raced alongside her.
A hundred blue sapphires bounced in the warm, golden sconce lighting.
She didn't look at her own face.
Her eyes frantically scanned the intricate wooden molding framing the glass panels.
Her breathing was ragged, her lungs burning against the tight tailoring of her blazer.
She reached the end of the corridor, where the mirrors met a solid oak corner.
She slammed both palms flat against the cold glass.
Her gold rings scraped against the mirror, leaving a jagged, silver scratch across her own reflection.
She slid her hands down the seam of the glass.
Her fingertips searched frantically, pressing into the microscopic gap between the panel and the wall.
She felt the slight, unnatural give of a hidden latch.
Her jaw locked, the muscles in her neck straining tight.
She leaned her entire body weight against the glass panel and pushed hard.
With a heavy, pneumatic hiss, the heavy mirror swung inward.
The warm, golden light of the hallway spilled into a narrow, concrete space hidden within the walls of the mansion.
The air inside was dead.
It smelled heavily of iron, damp concrete, and unwashed cotton.
A massive, steel safe door stood at the end of the tiny corridor, its digital keypad completely dark.
She lunged forward, her heels slipping slightly on the untreated concrete floor.
Her hands grabbed the heavy steel wheel on the front of the vault.
The metal was freezing to the touch.
She planted her feet, arching her back, and wrenched the wheel to the left.
The heavy internal locking bolts groaned in protest.
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With a loud, metallic clank, the vault door gave way.
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