The cold harbor tide lapped against the brass threshold of Otis Hydraulic Elevator #4.
Six inches of dark, oily salt water covered the floor of Sub-Basement B2.5.
Elena Rostova kept her boots planted on the dry diamond-plate deck inside the cab.
“Keep your weight on the brass sill, Julian,” Elena warned, aiming her penlight at the dark pool. “Don’t let your soles touch that water.”
“I’m grounded inside the frame,” Julian Vance replied.
He glanced at the heavy lead-shielded dosimeter badge pinned to his lapel.
The analog needle rested dead-center at zero point zero zero millisieverts.
“Dosimeter’s clean,” Julian said. “No radiological leakage in this basin.”
