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"So how will we--?"
As we walked into the room, Captain Kaufman stepped from behind a wire rack stacked with boxes. He extended his hand. I shook it and introduced him to Adam.
"You did meet," I said. "But you were unconscious at the time."
"My apologies for that," Kaufman said. "Those men weren't part of my team. That isn't how we do things." He waved toward the cells. "This isn't how we do things."
"It's how Josef Nast does things. And I'm betting Thomas knows this place is down here, too."
Kaufman shifted uncomfortably. Even if he was loyal to my brother, he wouldn't disparage the man who was still in charge.
"Just get us out of here," Adam said.
Kaufman and Curry led us into more storage. No metal racks and neat wooden boxes here. This was a hole in the ground, stuffed with rotting crates and stinking of dead rats.
"Let me guess," I said. "There's a secret passage in here, right through the sewers."
Kaufman flicked on his vest light. Curry did the same. I started to cast a light-ball spell, then stopped. I could see fine by their lights.
Kaufman stopped in front of a door. A big, metal door, right there, plain as day. Beside it, a security scanner was set into the concrete wall.
"That's a lousy secret hatch," I said.
"It's not a secret. Not to anyone who works down here."
"Then how--?"
Kaufman took my hand and pulled it toward the box. "Fingers outstretched, please, Miss Nast."
My hand went into the box. A mechanical whir. Something tapped my thumb. Then--
"Yow!" I yanked my hand out. My fingertip was bleeding. "If it requires virgin blood, you've got the wrong girl."
Kaufman just stood there, ramrod straight, watching the door. I glanced at Curry. He was puffing softly, anxiety building to panic as we waited for . . .
Another whir. Then a clank. A green light flashed over the door. Kaufman grabbed the handle. As he glanced back at me, his gaze went to Curry, who looked ready to piss his pants with relief.
"I'm sorry, sir." Curry looked at me. "I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry."
Kaufman pulled open the door as Adam murmured, "Nast blood."
I shot him a puzzled glance as we walked through.
"The door lock," Adam said. "It's some kind of DNA reader."
"It's an escape route for the family," Kaufman said as he prodded us along.
A door that would open only to those with Nast DNA. That's why Curry had been worried. He hadn't been certain I really was Sean's sister, only that Sean himself believed it.
Speaking of which, "So there's an escape route for the family that my brothers don't know about? That doesn't help them, does it?"
"They'd be told if the situation required it," Kaufman said.
Yes, but it proved where Thomas Nast's priorities lay. Better to keep the top-secret jail a top secret from anyone who might argue against it, even if that meant possibly denying his grandsons access to an emergency escape.
On the other side of the door, lights flicked on automatically as we walked. God forbid a Nast should need to carry a flashlight. Or learn a witch's light-ball spell.
There was no stench of dead rat here. No dripping concrete walls or mud floor either. It wasn't exactly a state-of-the-art jetway, but it was clean--sterile, even--a long, metal tube with railings on either side as the floor gradually sloped upward.
