Part 24 (1/2)

She forced a smile.

She looked down at her harness and tugged on it, as if she thought it might have come undone.

”Remember what to do?” he asked.

”Hold the line with both hands above my head. Don't try to help. Look for the ledge, get my feet on it right away, don't let myself be lowered past it.”

”And when you get there?”

”First, I untie myself.”

”But only from this line.”

”Yes.”

”Not from the other.”

She nodded.

”Then, when you've untied yourself-”

”I jerk on this line twice.”

”That's right. I'll put you down as gently as I can.”

In spite of the stinging cold wind that whistled through the open window on both sides of her, her face was pale. ”I love you,” she said.

”And I love you.”

”You can do this.”

”I hope so.”

”I know. ”

His heart was pounding.

”I trust you,” she said.

He realized that if he allowed her to die during the climb, he would have no right or reason to save himself. Life without her would be an unbearable pa.s.sage through guilt and loneliness, a gray emptiness worse than death. If she fell, he might as well pitch himself after her.

He was scared.

All he could do was repeat what he had already said, ”I love you.”

Taking a deep breath, leaning backward, she said, ”Well ... woman overboard!”

The corridor was dark and deserted.

Bollinger returned to the elevator and pressed the b.u.t.ton for the twenty-seventh floor.

33.

The instant that Connie slipped backward off the windowsill, she sensed the hundreds of feet of open s.p.a.ce beneath her. She didn't need to look down to be profoundly affected by that great, dark gulf. She was even more terrified than she had expected to be. The fear had a physical as well as a mental impact on her. Her throat constricted; she found it hard to breathe. Her chest felt tight, and her pulse rate soared. Suddenly acidic, her stomach contracted sickeningly. she found it hard to breathe. Her chest felt tight, and her pulse rate soared. Suddenly acidic, her stomach contracted sickeningly.

She resisted the urge to clutch the windowsill before it was out of her grasp. Instead, she reached overhead and gripped the rope with both hands.

The wind rocked her from side to side. It pinched her face and stung the thin rim of ungreased skin around her eyes.

In order to see at all, she was forced to squint, to peer out through the narrowest of lash-s.h.i.+elded slits. Otherwise, the wind would have blinded her with her own tears. Unfortunately, the pile of climbing equipment in the art director's office had not contained snow goggles.

She glanced down at the ledge toward which she was slowly moving. It was six feet wide, but to her it looked like a tightrope.

His feet slipped on the carpet.

He dug in his heels.

Judging by the amount of rope still coiled beside him, she was not even halfway to the ledge. Yet he felt as if he had lowered her at least a hundred feet.

Initially, the strain on Graham's arms and shoulders had been tolerable. But as he payed out the line, he became increasingly aware of the toll taken by five years of inactivity. With each foot of rope, new aches sprang up like sparks in his muscles, spread toward each other, fanned into crackling fires.

Nevertheless, the pain was the least of his worries. More important, he was facing away from the office doors. And he could not forget the vision: a bullet in the back, blood, and then darkness.

Where was Bollinger?

The farther Connie descended, the less slack there was in the line that connected her to the window post. She hoped that Graham had estimated its length correctly. If not, she might be in serious trouble. A too-long safety line posed no threat; but if it was too short, she would be hung up a foot or two from the ledge. She would have to climb back to the window so that Graham could rectify the situation-or she would have to give up the safety line altogether, proceed to the setback on just the belayer's rope. Anxiously, she watched the safety line as it gradually grew taut. but if it was too short, she would be hung up a foot or two from the ledge. She would have to climb back to the window so that Graham could rectify the situation-or she would have to give up the safety line altogether, proceed to the setback on just the belayer's rope. Anxiously, she watched the safety line as it gradually grew taut.

Overhead, the main rope was twisting and untwisting with lateral tension. As the thousands of nylon strands repeatedly tightened, relaxed, tightened, she found herself turning slowly in a semicircle from left to right and back again. This movement was in addition to the pendulumlike swing caused by the wind; and of course it made her increasingly ill. and of course it made her increasingly ill.

She wondered if the rope would break. Surely, all of that twisting and untwisting began where the rope dropped away from the window. Was the thin line even now fraying at its contact point with the sill?

Graham had said there would be some dangerous friction at the sill. But he had a.s.sured her that she would be on the ledge before the nylon fibers had even been slightly bruised. Nylon was tough material. Strong. Reliable. It would not wear through from a few minutes-or even a quarter-hour-of heavy friction.

Still, she wondered.

At eight minutes after eleven, Frank Bollinger started to search the thirtieth floor.