Free Black Flagged Redux by Steven Konkoly

of the treatment process.
    From these tanks, the clean water was pumped to the city's reservoirs through a massive pump station, which could be accessed from the building he rapidly approached. He glanced around furtively as the building loomed closer, painfully aware that there was no way to soften the loud clanging of his boots on the metal grating. Maybe the sound didn't matter. He had breached the treatment plant's fence line where it ambled too close to the edge of one of the city's forest preserves. Wearing a suit and a long winter jacket that showcased fake city credentials, he had approached the complex's buildings from an angle that would conceal his approach until he could find a way to access the pump station building.
    He had watched the station for a full day, noting the number of personnel and their patterns. For the most part, there hadn't been any. The automated facility was monitored by a control station toward the front of the complex, which he would avoid altogether, though he didn't think he could completely dodge all of the cameras. He just needed to get into the pump station, where he could effectively and quietly deal with anyone that came to investigate his presence. He assumed that an alarm would sound when he broke into the pump station and had prepared accordingly.
    He walked up to the door at the end of the catwalk and stared at the covered button pad to the right of the door. Not a problem. He had anticipated the possibility that every door at the new facility would utilize new technology and had researched methods to breach similar systems. Several black market electronic devices had been available, but each device was specific to certain systems, and he didn't have room in his backpack to bring along one of each device. Even if he had, there was no guarantee that any of them would work on this door. A better solution had been offered by his black market contact. A compact circular saw, specially designed to cut through door locks. The saw featured a five inch metal cutting saw blade, which would give the blade enough depth to cut through dead bolts or locking mechanisms when placed flush against the crack between the door and frame.
    He slipped the nylon backpack off his shoulders and kneeled in front of the door to open it. A few seconds later, he wrestled the gray saw out of the backpack and attached the power cord to a customized battery that had been guaranteed to provide fifteen minutes of continuous operation. He examined the door again and decided to start with the most logical point near the door handle. He inserted the thin blade into the door crack a few inches above the handle, and felt no resistance as he placed the saw flush against the door and frame. He depressed the black trigger and the saw roared to life, emitting a high pitched squeal that made him nervous. No way to turn back now , he thought and moved the saw slowly down the crack.
    The blade met with brief resistance at handle level, but continued to move effortlessly with Anatoly's hand. He felt no resistance a few inches past the handle and stopped the blade. Could it have been that easy? He pulled the saw blade out of the crack and placed it on the grate before standing up. He grasped the handle and pulled, surprised when the door gave no resistance and swung open. He examined the door for a few seconds and determined that the blade had done no obvious damage to the door, besides cutting the locking bolt. When closed, he doubted anyone would be able to tell it had been cut. Anyone approaching the door would punch in their code and open the door, unaware that it would have opened regardless of the numbers punched into the keypad. Not wanting to waste another moment, he dragged everything through the doorway and closed the door, noting the time on his watch.
    The first thing he noticed was the industrial grade humming sound of the pump. He had expected the noise inside to be louder. The pump station descended one additional