Chapter 7 - The Locked Basement
Samuel was rushed into emergency treatment.
His injury was not from a fall.
A thin puncture wound had been found beneath his sleeve, and traces of an unknown sedative were discovered in his blood.
Someone had attacked him inside the hospital.
Security sealed the main entrances.
Visitors were questioned.
Staff identification was checked twice.
Yet no suspect was found.
Back in Room 307, Olivia examined the key Richard had been carrying.
It was old.
Heavy.
Its metal surface had darkened with age, but the number 1951 remained clearly visible.
Harold recognized it immediately.
“I thought that key had been destroyed.”
“What does it open?” Emily asked.
Harold hesitated.
“A storage room beneath the original hospital building.”
Olivia stared.
“This hospital wasn’t built until 1968.”
“The new building wasn’t.”
Harold looked toward the floor.
“But the foundation is older.”
He explained that decades earlier, part of the hidden military facility had been converted into a medical research center. Most of it was sealed when the hospital expanded.
“Why would Richard have the key?” Emily asked.
Harold looked at the dog.
“He didn’t.”
Richard’s ears lifted.
“Someone placed it under his collar.”
Olivia remembered Samuel’s words.
The dog has it.
Perhaps Samuel had not meant the letter.
Perhaps he had meant the path to it.
At two in the morning, Olivia, Emily, and a hospital security officer entered the service elevator with Richard beside them.
Harold had begged to come, but his condition made it impossible.
Before the doors closed, he called out.
“Don’t open anything marked with a red circle.”
Emily turned.
“Why?”
But the elevator doors shut before he answered.
The basement level smelled of dust, metal, and damp concrete.
Most of the lights no longer worked.
Richard moved ahead without hesitation.
He seemed to know where he was going.
They passed abandoned supply rooms and rusted pipes until the dog stopped before a narrow steel door hidden behind stacked furniture.
The number 1951 had been scratched into the wall beside it.
Olivia inserted the key.
The lock opened with a heavy click.
The security officer raised his flashlight.
Inside the room were dozens of wooden boxes, old medical files, and a single metal cabinet.
On its door was a faded red circle.
Emily remembered Harold’s warning.
“Don’t touch that one.”
Richard ignored her.
He moved directly toward the cabinet and began pawing at its base.
Olivia knelt.
Behind the cabinet, taped beneath a loose floor panel, was the missing envelope.
Still sealed.
Still marked:
FOR RICHARD.
The security officer reached for it.
Before his fingers touched the paper, the basement lights suddenly went out.
A voice spoke from the darkness behind them.
“Leave the letter where it is.”
May you like
Richard began to growl.
And somewhere in the corridor, a second steel door slowly opened.
