RAY MARTIN CODE

Chapter 3 – The Vanishing Elevator

Ray stood frozen, lungs heaving, the image of Ella being dragged into the shadows burned into his mind.

The freight elevator doors were now just a blank sheet of brushed steel, silent and unmoving, like nothing had happened.

He slammed his fist against the call button, Nothing, Not even the whir of machinery, Somewhere behind him, boot steps echoed in the corridor, the tactical men from the holding room were closing in.

Ray’s eyes swept the hall, Three doors: one locked with a keypad, one marked Maintenance, and one unmarked. He ran for the unmarked door, yanking it open a narrow stairwell that spiraled up into darkness. The air smelled of rust and stale dust.

He took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the pounding in his chest, His brain was trying to calculate: If the elevator wasn’t moving, where had Ella gone?

Had it dropped to a hidden level?

Was there even such a level in the building’s schematics?

Halfway up, voices floated up from below. “Lock down sublevel two. Don’t let him near the shaft.”

Sublevel two. Ray had only ever been to sublevel one, The stairwell ended at a steel fire door, He pushed it open and stepped into a dimly lit corridor he didn’t recognize, low ceilings, exposed pipes, and the faint hum of electricity somewhere close.

A battered sign on the wall read: S2 – Research Access.

Research Access? Ray’s mind spun, Vance Dynamics didn’t have research labs in this building or at least, none anyone was supposed to know about.

He moved fast, keeping close to the wall. At the far end of the corridor was a glass security checkpoint, and beyond it, a row of unmarked black doors. One of them might lead to Ella.

A guard in a white lab coat sat at the checkpoint desk, head bent over a clipboard, Not security at least, not the kind with weapons. Maybe Ray could bluff his way through.

He stepped forward, heart pounding. “Hey,” he said, putting a little desperation in his voice. “There’s a fire on sublevel one. They told me to”

The man looked up, His eyes were wrong, Flat, Empty, Like glass marbles in a human face Then he smiled,

too wide, too slow. “I know who you are, Ray.”

The lights above them flickered, The hum in the air grew louder, like a swarm of bees trapped in the walls. And from behind the black doors, something started pounding to get out.

The pounding behind the black doors grew faster, heavier, like fists, or maybe something heavier than fists, battering metal. The lab-coated man at the checkpoint didn’t flinch, His wide smile didn’t move, didn’t fade, just stayed fixed like it had been painted on.

Ray swallowed hard, He’d seen odd people in his time broken souls on the streets, glazed-over hackers lost in their own worlds but this was different.

This man’s eyes weren’t blank because he was distracted, They were blank because something else was looking out from behind them.

“You have something of ours,” the man said softly, voice almost drowned by the electric hum.

His gaze flicked, just for a second, toward Ray’s pocket. The flash drive. Ray forced himself to keep his expression neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man’s smile widened further, if that was even possible. “That’s all right. You will.”

The pounding behind the doors stopped, For one terrible heartbeat, the hallway fell silent, too silent. Then, the rightmost door shuddered as something massive hit it from the inside. The reinforced hinges groaned.

Ray’s gut screamed Move! but the guard’s stare pinned him like an insect, Then, somewhere behind Ray, a distant alarm began to wail low, mournful, and steady, The guard turned his head slightly toward the sound, just enough to break eye contact. Ray ran.

He didn’t look back, just sprinted down the corridor, past the flickering lights, the humming walls, the pounding doors. He slammed through a side hatch marked Maintenance Access, skidding into a narrow service tunnel lined with insulated pipes.

The tunnel sloped upward, the air warmer now, tinged with the sharp tang of ozone, Somewhere above, machinery clanged to life, the elevators? If Ella was still in one, maybe she was being moved again.

Ray’s phone buzzed. He yanked it out, half-expecting another voice he didn’t recognize. Instead, a text: If you want her alive, meet me in the lobby. 3 minutes. Come alone.

No name, no number, just the message. His legs pumped harder, the tunnel narrowing until he had to turn sideways to squeeze past a cluster of pipes.

Finally, a metal grate blocked his way, He kicked it loose and hauled himself up into a dim electrical room he knew two floors above the lobby. He ran for the stairwell.

The lobby of Vance Dynamics was a different world at night, polished stone floors reflecting the cold blue glow of the security lights, the vast glass facade showing the sleeping city beyond.

Ray burst through the doors, scanning the space. Empty, Then, movement, a figure in a black hoodie, standing near the giant sculpture in the center. They lifted their head.

It wasn’t a man, It was a woman. Her eyes were sharp, her expression unreadable. “You’re late,” she said.

Ray stepped closer, every nerve on edge. “Where’s Ella?”

“Safe,” the woman said, “for now.” She glanced toward the revolving doors. “But if you want her to stay that way, you’ll hand me the drive.”

Ray’s hand closed around the small device in his pocket. Every instinct screamed not to give it up, not without answers. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on,” he said.

The woman tilted her head, considering him. “You’re not in a position to bargain.”

The revolving doors spun, Ray turned just in time to see three men in the same matte-black tactical gear from before step into the lobby, guns raised.

The woman swore under her breath. “Too late.”

She grabbed Ray’s arm, yanking him toward the side exit, Bullets slammed into the marble behind them, shards flying.

They sprinted through the service hallway, the gunmen in pursuit, The woman shoved open a steel door leading into the underground parking deck.

Ray’s feet hit concrete, and his stomach dropped, Across the lot, parked in the shadows, was a black SUV with its engine running, And in the back seat, through the tinted glass, he caught a glimpse of Ella, A strip of silver duct tape covered her mouth.

Her eyes met his, wide, desperate, just as the SUV peeled out, tires screeching, disappearing into the night.