We found the wooden door to the service stairs.

I opened it slowly, avoiding any creaks.

We descended into the cool darkness of the pantry.

The air smelled of dried garlic, spices, and cold stone.

I cracked the pantry door open an inch.

The kitchen was massive, filled with stainless steel appliances and dark granite.

No one was inside.

The back door was made of thick glass reinforced with wire mesh.

A small red light glowed on the electronic keypad mounted next to the frame.

I led Emily across the polished tile floor.

I stopped in front of the security keypad.

It was a standard commercial model, the kind used in federal buildings.

I had bypassed dozens of them during my years in the field.

But I did not have my specialized tools with me tonight.

I looked around the kitchen island.

I saw a wooden block holding a set of professional kitchen knives.

I selected a thin, strong paring knife with a sharp tip.

“What are you doing?” Emily whispered, watching me.

“I’m going to short the circuit,” I said.