The end cabinet was one of the few that hadn't been ransacked. "Maybe our thief was working his way through the plans. Maybe he wanted the complete set of plans, past and present."
"Good theory, except there ain't no plans for matter transmitters in this lot."
"The thieves might have taken them."
"Why photograph them if they're going to take them?
Makes no sense."
No, it didn't. Nothing about this case was making much sense. "Anything else of interest in the cabinets?"
"A lot of projects marked inviable." Illie slammed the cabinet door shut. "I'm getting a bad feeling about all this."
Gabriel had passed the bad feeling point minutes ago. Now it was more a sick certainty that something was about to happen.
"Let's head back upstairs and view the tapes. Then we'll go interview the security personal from last night."
"I don't think we'll find much on the—"
A strident siren cut off the rest of Illie's sentence. A muffled explosion rumbled in the distance, and then the floor began to shake. Slowly at first, but growing in intensity.
"Quake," Illie said, calmly studying the ceiling, as if searching for any sign of collapse.
Gabriel did likewise. Spiderlike lines began to splinter across the concrete. Too quickly, he thought, and frowned. "I don't think so."
Another explosion vibrated the air around them. The siren cut off abruptly and the ensuring silence was almost eerie.
"I think we'd better get out of here, Stern."
Gabriel didn't reply. Wind stirred his hair, as if some unseen force was moving towards them. The back of his neck burned.
Something was very, very wrong.
He lunged forward, grabbed Illie by the scruff of the neck and thrust him towards the nearest cabinet.
"Get in there, close the door, and do not come out until I say it's safe."
"Have you gone mad?"
"The cabinets are fireproof." The concrete bucked underneath him. Gabriel stumbled several steps backwards before he regained his balance.
"Holy shit." Illie's mutter was etched with fear. "The back wall is melting."
Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. Rivulets of concrete rushed towards them. A good third of the wall had melted, revealing a maelstrom of fire.
"Shut the door, damn you."
Another explosion ripped through the air, followed quickly by a sharp crack. He glanced up and saw the spiderlike cracks joining.
Chunks of ceiling began to rain down. Gabriel dove for the nearest cabinet, hoping like hell it would hold against the approaching firestorm.
Three
The locker shuddered as the force of the storm hit. The walls began to burn, becoming too hot, too quick. The air seethed with heat and every intake of breath burned Gabriel's throat and lungs.
He hunched in the middle of the locker and prayed that the fire-insulating properties would hold up long enough to ride out the storm. Sweat skated across his body, drying as fast as it appeared in the soul-sucking heat. He shifted his arm and licked several droplets before they could fully evaporate. It might not be much, but his mouth felt drier than the Sahara and he had to keep some moisture in his body or he wouldn't survive.
The viaphone vibrated against his side. It might have rung too, only he couldn't hear it against the whirlwind of noise battering the cabinet. He didn't answer it. Couldn't. He didn't dare move, lest he touch the sides of the locker. They glowed with heat and one touch could be deadly.