David Regan, unfazed by the conversation behind him, proceeds.
Like many underground bunkers, this one has a fairly straightforward design: it is no maze of the minotaur. No labyrinthine turns or dead ends. Concrete frames simple passages, some labeled alphanumerically in fading stenciled paint. Sound travels well through the stone tunnels, and the hidden Mekhet slowly turns this way and that whenever a choice is presented, homing in on it.
Deeper in, abandoned store-rooms have been converted into make-shift barracks. These are no neat military things, though, but simply more detritus of the workers he's already seen. Food staples are randomly stacked as well as other survivalist necessities: water, hand tools, and similar*.
And books.
Several rooms are filled with books, enough to give the Mekhet pause. Unlike everything else he's seen, they're all neatly arranged in small stacks on the floor. One room contains maps on the wall, but he is not here for geography lessons.
Slowly, the whisper rises in volume and changes in tone. Less distorted, it is higher pitched.
Ahead is a half closed door.
David will be unable to slip through while maintaining his Cloak.
Behind the door, close now, is the source. A steady cadence of epithets in a female voice.
*