AGENT 23 BLACKOUT (Agent 23 Book 1)

CHAPTER 9

My head explodes in a brain-quake as electrical pulses zap through my synapses like a lightning storm inside my skull. Seconds after the lights come on and I shut the basement door, I sway with the inconceivable pain that rocks my frontal lobe. Again, that's the part of my brain that determines who I am, all of my feelings and emotions, the core of my personality, language, problem solving, and memory. But now, it seems my memory is the most affected.

In an obvious vision, I see a blueprint schematic transposed over the back wall of the basement.

As I stagger, Kayla rushes to my side and steadies me so I don't fall. I hear myself groan as if it's someone else whose head is ablaze with pain. But as I focus on the metal shelves lining the back wall, the brain-quake grows mild and finally goes away, similar to the previous headaches.

On the rear wall, a red light bathes the blueprint lines in a soft, eerie glow.

"Do you see that?" I ask Kayla.

"See what?"

I'm pretty sure I should act like I see nothing, since she might think I'm losing my mind. "Oh, nothing." I shrug. "I think the headache affected my vision, but I'm okay now."

Cautiously, I walk toward the highlighted wall. As I draw near, the outer edges shift, narrowing from right and left, the blueprint shrinking from a rectangle to a square that outlines the middle section of the shelves. When I draw to within arm's reach, the red glow narrows to a much smaller circle that illuminates a vertical strut on the metal shelves.

Without knowledge of what I'm doing, I grab the metal and squeeze.

The surface on the backside gives under pressure, and the blueprinted outline of the middle square appears again. With a clank, the shelving section detaches and moves toward me until it stops. It slides to the right, revealing an alcove with a thick metal door. I scratch my head and bite my lip. This is strange. To the right, a keypad catches my attention, and when I focus on it, six numbers light up in a particular sequence.

I do as anyone might do; I press the buttons as the sequence repeats, 437519.

The door unbolts and opens toward me.

"How did you know the passcode?" Kayla says.

I look at her and realize she's standing beside me. "I'm not sure, but something tells me we should see where this goes."

I step into the passageway, and as soon as I do, interior lights flash on overhead. A stairwell leads down into a part of the museum I didn't know existed, a level lower than the basement.

"I'm not going down that decrepit old stairway." Kayla jabs a hand toward the passage. "What's going on, Aiden? This can't be normal. A secret doorway, hidden behind a shelving rack. Come on, what's going on? What are you not telling me?"

"I have nothing to hide."

"Really? I'll tell you what it looks like to me."

"What's that?" I tighten my lips and arch a brow.

"It looks like you have a secret life." Kayla points to the passage. "How can you not know about this? You went right to it. As soon as you entered the basement, you went straight for the back wall without hesitation. And you said you were going to show me your dungeon."

"I know what it looks like, but you have to believe me. I didn't know this stairway existed until a few minutes ago."

"How am I supposed to believe that?"

"I don't know, Kayla." I inch closer to her. "When I walked through that door, a headache hit me and then I saw a vision of the secret passageway. It was like someone zapped it into my brain. I can't explain it, but that's how it happened."

I gesture to the opening. "I think we should check it out."

Kayla shakes her head. "I'm not going down there. I already told you I'm claustrophobic."

"Then I'll go. But don't leave. Promise me you won't. If Agent 24 finds you, he'll kill you."

"Go." Her eyes dart toward the passage. "I'll hang out up here. But don't take too long." She huffs. "This basement is too dimly lit, and it's so dusty. Seriously Aiden, how can you store historical items down here? It's not clean, and it gives me the creeps."

"I'll be quick about it, I promise. What's down there could be a clue that explains everything—the text messages, Agent 24—and what I have to do with all this."

"Just hurry, please."

With a whiff of musty air, I spin and make my way down the stairs. I don't know what awaits me, but I suspect it's something mysterious. I only hope it's not a dungeon, like I so carelessly called the museum basement, not so long ago.