Julian’s boots hit the concrete floor of the Seventh-Floor Housekeeping Alcove.
Behind him, Elena swung the brushed aluminum linen chute door shut, dogging the brass latch with a solid mechanical thud.
The wall-mounted Model 500 telephone of Extension 707 hung off its hook on the wall.
The black bakelite handset was suspended by its curled cord, maintaining the active circuit down to the lobby switchboard.
Julian reached down to his belt caddy, reeling the bronze drop-wire with rapid, rhythmic figure-eight loops across his forearm.
He kept his eye fixed on the micro-ammeter clipped to the side of his belt spool.
“Loop current check, Clara!” Julian spoke into his headset.
“Holding at thirty-five milliamps, Julian!” Clara’s voice answered from the lobby. “The circuit is live!”
