The maintenance access panel opened into a narrow service corridor that ran parallel to the main third-floor hallway. The space was cramped and utilitarian—exposed pipes and electrical conduits ran along the walls and ceiling, and the air carried the stale scent of dust and abandoned machinery.
This time, we moved with much more caution than before. Our fall through the wall and narrow escape from the reception area had nearly traumatised us
I led the way through the maintenance corridor. Behind me, Rachel moved with equal care, her steel rod ready and her barrier abilities primed for instant activation. The recording equipment was secure in my pack, but I kept Mark's frequency analyzer in my hand, ready to resume data collection the moment we got close enough to the Screamer device.
