Part 20 (1/2)

”That's right.”

”We have to go down to escape.”

She shook her head; her hair formed a brief dark halo. ”You remember what I said about the night guards?” her hair formed a brief dark halo. ”You remember what I said about the night guards?”

”They might be dead.”

”If Bollinger killed them so he could have a free hand with us, wouldn't he also have sealed off the building? What if we get to the lobby, with Bollinger hot on our heels, and we find the doors are locked? Before we could break the gla.s.s and get out, he'd have killed us.”

”But the guards might not be dead. He might have gotten past them somehow.”

”Can we take that chance?”

He frowned. ”I guess not.”

”I don't want to get to the lobby until we're certain of having a long lead on Bollinger.”

”So we go up. How's that better?” ”We can't play cat and mouse with him for twenty-seven floors. The next time he catches us in the shaft or on the stairs, he won't make any mistakes. But if he doesn't realize we're going up, we might be able to alternate between the shaft and the stairs for thirteen floors, long enough to get to your office.”

”Why there?”

”Because he won't expect us to backtrack.”

Graham's blue eyes were not as wide with fear as they had been; they had narrowed with calculation. In spite of himself, the will to survive was flowering in him they had narrowed with calculation. In spite of himself, the will to survive was flowering in him; the first signs of the old Graham Harris were becoming visible, pus.h.i.+ng through his sh.e.l.l of fear. the first signs of the old Graham Harris were becoming visible, pus.h.i.+ng through his sh.e.l.l of fear.

He said, ”Eventually, he'll realize what we've done. It'll buy us only fifteen minutes or so.”

”Time to think of another way out,” she said. ”Come on, Graham. We're wasting too much time. He'll be on this floor any second now.”

Less reluctantly than the first time, but still without enthusiasm, he followed her into the elevator shaft.

On the platform he said, ”You go first. I'll bring up the rear, so I won't knock you off the ladder if I fall.”

For the same reason, he had insisted on going first when they descended.

She put her arms around him, kissed him, then turned and started to climb.

As soon as he got off the elevator on the twenty-seventh floor, Bollinger investigated the stairs at the north end of the building. They were deserted.

He ran the length of the corridor and opened the door to the south stairs. He stood on the landing for almost a minute, listening intently for movement. He heard none.

In the corridor again, he searched for an unlocked office door until he realized they might have gone back into the elevator shaft. He located the maintenance supply room; the red door was ajar. the red door was ajar.

He approached it cautiously, as before. He was opening the door all the way when the shaft beyond was filled with the sound of another door closing on it.

On the platform, he bent over the railing. He stared down into the vertiginous depths, wondering which one of the doors they had used.

How many floors had they gained on him?

Dammit!

Cursing aloud, overcoat flapping around his legs, Bollinger went back to the south stairs to listen for them.

By the time they had climbed two flights on the north stairs, Graham was wincing with each step. From sole to hip, pain coruscated through his bad leg. In antic.i.p.ation of each jolt, he tensed his stomach. Now his entire abdomen ached. If he had continued to work out and climb after his fall on Mount Everest, as the doctors had urged him to do, he would have been in shape for this. He had given his leg more punishment tonight than it ordinarily received in a year. Now he was paying in pain for five years of inactivity.

”Don't slow down,” Connie said.

”Trying not to.”

”Use the rail as much as you can. Pull yourself along. ”

”How far are we going?”

”One more floor.”

”Eternity.”

”After that we'll switch back to the elevator shaft.”

He liked the ladder in the shaft better than he did the stairs. On the ladder he could use his good leg and pull with both hands to keep nearly all of his weight off the other leg. But on the stairs, if he didn't use the lame leg at all, he would have to hop from one step to the other; and that was too slow. and that was too slow.

”One more flight,” she said encouragingly.

Trying to surprise himself, trying to cover a lot of ground before the. pain transmitted itself from leg to brain, he put on a burst of speed, staggered up ten steps as fast as he could. That transformed the pain into agony. He had to slow down, but he kept moving.

Bollinger stood on the landing, listening for sound in the south stairwell.

Nothing.

He looked over the railing. Squinting, he tried to see through the layers of darkness that filled the s.p.a.ces between the landing.

Nothing.

He went back into the hall and ran toward the north stairs.

29.