The front doors of the Old Stock Exchange shattered under the force of the battering ram.
"Federal Agents! Search and Seizure!"
The shout echoed from the lobby, followed by the heavy thud of boots and the screams of the Olympus private security team being thrown to the floor. The Feds were efficient, fueled by the high-profile win at the cemetery. They hit the building like a tidal wave.
"That's our cue," I whispered, adjusting my earpiece.
We didn't go through the front. Oryn and I stood in the service alley, staring at a rusted grate that led to the ventilation intake.
"It’s tight," Oryn signed, checking the blueprints I had pulled from the municipal archives. "And it drops straight into the sub-basement cooling unit."
"Then we slide," I said.
I pulled the grate open. The air rush
