Julian stepped across the brass threshold into Room 808.
His leather work boots transitioned from the waterlogged runner of the hallway to dry, dense wool carpet.
The bronze drop-wire trailed smoothly behind his heels, paying out twenty more feet from the spool.
Julian reached down to his belt and checked the tension. Exactly two hundred and twenty feet were out, leaving thirty feet of slack on the reel.
As soon as his second boot cleared the doorframe, Julian felt a sharp pop in his eardrums.
The barometric pressure inside the suite dropped three inches of mercury within half a second.
It felt like stepping inside an aircraft decompression chamber or a bank vault sealed against seawater.
Elena stepped through immediately after him, keeping the heavy oak door propped open by two inches.
