The high-tensile steel winch cable jerked upward with the thunderous snap of a breaking suspension bridge.
Fifty tons of raw hydraulic hoist pressure surged through the ceiling mounts.
Chief Inspector Halvorsen’s six-hundred-pound iron chassis left the concrete floor in a single violent heave. His spinning turnstile blades slammed against the iron door frame, throwing off blinding sheets of white-hot magnesium sparks.
[click-hiss]
“WAIT--” Halvorsen’s loudspeaker shrieked, the audio warping into a desperate screech of feedback.
[click-hiss]
“I AM AN EXECUTIVE FOUNDER--”
“Executive founders still punch the clock, Inspector,” Julian said, his retail deadpan ringing out over the scream of tearing metal. “And your card just bounced.”
