The air here was colder, smelling of old earth and stagnant water.

The overhead fluorescent bulbs flickered once, then buzzed back to life.

“Marcus, lead the way,” I said. “Nora, stay right behind him.”

I kept my gun drawn, my thumb riding the safety as we moved toward the iron staircase.

Above us, the floorboards of the main house creaked.

The sound of heavy car doors slamming echoed through the high, narrow cellar windows.

They were outside the kitchen entrance.

“Daniel, status,” I hissed into my mic.

There was nothing but static.

“Daniel, report,” I tried again.

The radio remained silent, a low, empty hiss filling my ear.

I stopped at the foot of the stairs, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Something was wrong with the comms.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my sat-phone, its screen glowing bright blue in the dim hallway.

The signal indicator showed zero bars.

“The jammers are active,” I said to Marcus. “They’ve cut our external communications.”

Marcus tightened his grip on Clara. “We can still hold the basement, Boss. The doors are solid steel.”