Guilt by Association

by Gilbert, Morris

  They finally scattered, but Dani stayed long enough to say quietly, “You left one thing out, Ben.” She came close and put a hesitant hand on his arm. “You’ve not been able to let go of your hold when you’re up high.”

  Her hand on his arm was light, but he was acutely aware of the pressure. He let the silence run on, and both of them were thinking of the last time they’d touched, when he’d kissed her. He murmured, “I guess it’s time I laid my personal ghost to rest, Dani.” He examined her through half-shut eyes and asked, almost idly, “How about your ghost? You think you’ll ever be able to get it to leave you alone?”

  She shook her head, and at once the moment was broken. “I don’t know what’s ahead—for me or for you, Ben. All I know is, if I have any chance at all, if any of us do, it’s because of you. I know how hard this is for you—so while we’re alone, I—I want to thank you for what you’re risking for us.”

  “It’s for me, too.” He shrugged. Then turned and walked away, leaving her alone, and she felt somehow that she had not said what she should have. As she walked across the room, the futile, empty feelings of lostness increased. Unexpectedly, tears rose to Dani’s eyes, and she dashed them away quickly as she moved toward the others.

  18

  Mr. Maxwell Stone

  * * *

  After Holtz put the message saying that Dani Ross was dead into the slot, there wasn’t much to do but wait. Dani had to stay in the women’s quarters, in case the camera came on unexpectedly, and the minutes seemed to crawl by. Karen brought her breakfast, but Dani only nibbled at the French toast, though she drank all the orange juice and asked for more.

  At ten thirty Karen brought her a small pitcher of the beverage. “Throat a little dry?” she asked sympathetically, sitting beside her on the bunk. “Well, nobody can blame you for that, I guess.” She waited until Dani had drained her glass, then filled it up again. “How much chance do we have, Dani? On the level.”

  “A better chance than the average person has of winning the big lottery prize,” Dani answered dryly. She didn’t want to talk any more about odds or chances, so she asked, “Did you see the net Karl made?” She got up and picked up what looked like a mass of loose rope, but when she held it up by one end, it became a net with one-foot squares. “The commander sure knows his knots!” she exclaimed. “These won’t slip—I tried to jerk them out of place on purpose. And it ought to be plenty long enough—about ten feet.”

  “How do you keep Stone from seeing it? And how does it fasten to the supply box?”

  “Lonnie’s going to carry me out all wrapped up in a blanket, and this will be under it. As soon as I clear the canopy, I snap these hooks onto the ropes that hold the box,” she pointed out. “Lonnie and Sid tore up part of the stove to make the hooks.” She smiled briefly, her mind not on what she was saying, “Betty raised the roof—until she realized that if this thing doesn’t work, nobody will be using the stove for long.”

  Karen’s eyes grew sober. “That’s right. But if—” Suddenly she lifted her head, then both women got to their feet. “There goes the winch,” she said nervously. Suddenly she threw her arms around Dani, and the two women clung to each other for a brief moment. Then Karen pulled away and ran out of the room.

  Dani felt weak and unsteady, but she walked quickly to the door. Staying well back, so that she could not be seen, she waited until the sound of the winch broke off. She could hear Stone’s voice clearly, when he said, “Once more, you people bear the responsibility for what has happened!”

  “You’ve convinced yourself of that,” Holtz said. “Though you cannot really believe it. But I will not argue with you. We have lost our finest, and I am beyond such arguments. Lonnie, go get Danielle, and we will have a brief service.”

  Dani went back at once to pick up the net. Lonnie came in, and when he got to her, she saw that his face was working nervously. “I—I guess this is it, Dani,” he said hoarsely. “Sure do hope—” He broke off and shook his head sharply, then mumbled, “Well, God’s gonna take care of you. I prayed all night for you.”

  Dani stared at him, then patted his thick shoulder. “Keep right on praying, Lonnie!” She stepped to the bunk, lay down on the blanket, and arranged the net over her lower body, carefully holding onto the hooks. “I’m ready now.”

  Lonnie folded the blanket over her as she had instructed him, leaving her face out but the rest of her body well covered. Then he picked her up, one hand under her knees and the other supporting her back and head. Dani closed her eyes, concentrating on not moving a muscle. She felt the difference as he stepped into the rec room and let her head bob slightly with the motion of his steps. He stopped and carefully placed her in what she knew was the supply box. Her head bumped as he put her down, and one of the wooden braces on the bottom bit uncomfortably into her shoulder blades, but she willed herself to relax, not moving a muscle. God, don’t let me cough or sneeze, she prayed.

  “This woman was Your handmaiden, God,” Karl said. “She was, of all of us, the closest to You, so the words I say this morning will not be to You, but to those of us who remain—”

  Dani dared not open her eyes for a glimpse of Ben, though she knew he would be starting up the rope for his long climb. Her hands were trembling, and an empty feeling filled her stomach. Willing herself to think of something else, she let her mind go up, trying to picture what would take place when the box she lay in passed through the opening high over her head.

  What a fearful thing for Ben! she thought. His owm private ghost, that’s what he called it. He’ll be in the darkness, with a concrete floor a hundred feet down and no net. He’ll have to turn loose and leap out into that darkness, not even able to see the net, and if he misses—!

  Dani tried to pray, but discovered that she was unable to do much. Then she remembered a seminary lecture on the Great Awakening. The professor stressed how that tremendous move of God had been brought on by intense prayer. His words came to her as she lay there in the cold: They prayed all night—often for many nights. They prayed, it is reported, until they finally got through to God, and people commonly asked, “Have you prayed through?” This meant, “Have you prayed so long and so fervently that you’ve heard from God, that He’s given you His assurance so firmly that you don’t need to pray anymore on the matter—you’re ‘prayed up!’”

  As Karl said, “I will read a few verses from the book she loved so well . . . ,” Dani realized that she was “prayed up.” All night long she had wrestled with God, feeling lost and lonely, but now a strange peace filled her. As Karl finished reading the verses, she addressed God in her spirit, saying, Now, Lord, Thy will be done. Then the winch started, and the box suddenly moved, coming clear of the floor and swaying slightly as it rose.

  She kept her eyes nearly shut. When the light grew dim, she knew the box had passed through the canopy. Opening her eyes, she saw the rectangle of light in the ceiling and quickly threw back the folds of the blanket and sat up. The swaying of the box was like a pendulum as she picked up the net and threw it over the side, then secured the hooks on the two ropes that supported the left-hand side of the supply box. She gave the net a shake, to be sure it was hanging free. Just as the bright beam of a powerful flashlight came on, she lay back, arranged the blanket in folds over herself as best she could, and closed her eyes.

  Savage had taken a station beside the rope, after a light breakfast. It was out of camera view, and at some point that morning everyone came by to spend a few moments with him. Karen had brought him some coffee, and he’d asked about Vince.

  “Touch and go.” She shrugged. “He’s nearly in a coma—wakes up for a few seconds, then falls back. Even with hospital care, it’d be tricky.” She was wearing no makeup, and her oval face was tense. “I talked to Dani,” she said.

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Better than I am!” Karen laughed shortly. She pushed her hair back, shook it so that it fell down her back, then added, “She’s worried about you, Ben. W
e all are.”

  “I’ve done harder stunts.”

  She took a deep breath, then shook her head. “You’re a hard nut. I’ve never known anyone tougher, so you can face this thing because you’re tough. And Dani can face it because she’s got faith in God. But the rest of us—” She hesitated, and there was a frail quality in her face as she put her hand on his arm and said, “You’re in God’s hands. Dani says, but all of us, Ben, we’re in your hands!”

  She got up and left quickly, and Ben sat there sipping coffee until Lonnie and Sid came over. “Who’s watching Rachel?” Ben asked.

  “I wired her to the table,” Sid explained. He stood there ill at ease, then pulled something out of his pocket. “Merry Christmas, Ben.” A slight smile touched his thin lips.

  Ben took the object, looked at it, then grinned. It was the chisel he’d made to drill through the floor; Sid had wrapped the handle with black friction tape and tied a bright-red bow around it.

  “Gee, Sid, and I didn’t get you anything!” Ben grinned, hefting the weapon.

  “Get us all outta here.” Sid nodded. “That’ll make this the best Christmas any of us ever had.”

  “Yeah, Ben,” Lonnie put in. “And don’t try to be a hero when you get up there,” he advised. He shook his heavy head, his jaw stubborn. “This ain’t no time for tennis rules, Ben. Put those birds down any way you can.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Ben said. “I’d drop a bomb on them, if I could!”

  Bix had come by, trying to be cheerful, but he finally said, “I hate to admit it, Ben, but I’m scared sick! And I ain’t got to do nothing but wait down here.” He suddenly put his hand out and said sheepishly, “Aw, Ben, what can I say? You pulled my potatoes out of the fire once, and now you’re risking your life to do it again.”

  “Bix, I’ve got an interest here myself,” Ben reminded him. He smiled and struck the boy a short blow on the shoulder. “Remember what that great American philosopher once said, ‘The opera ain’t over until the fat lady sings!’”

  Bix grinned, then ducked his head and moved away, just as Betty came with more coffee and a piece of cake. “Thanks, Betty,” Ben said. Although he wasn’t hungry, he took a small bite of the cake, then shook his head. “You’re the best cook ever, Betty. When we get out of here, I’m going to hire you.”

  Summoning up a smile, she mumbled, “God help you, Ben!” Just as she started to speak again, the winch began to whine, and she hurried away, her eyes wide with fear.

  As soon as the winch started to lower the box, Ben walked over to the rope and put his hand on it but made no attempt to climb. He had decided it would be too much strain to hold on up at the top for such a long period, so he waited until he heard Karl give the agreed-upon signal—the words I will read a few verses from the book she loved so well. As he heard it, Ben grasped the rope and began climbing. He walked up the wall, not pausing until he had gone past the canopy about twenty feet. His arms grew tired, and he looped the rope around his leg, letting it take the strain while he rested his arms. He could hear Karl reading slowly and hoped they hadn’t cut the time too short.

  As he began climbing again he looked up once, noting the bright rectangle of light that marked the opening. For the first time he thought, What if they happen to look at the side of this silo and see me? But even if he’d thought of it earlier, he’d still have had no choice.

  He rested twice more; on the last rest Ben heard the winch start, and he hastened to the top of the ladder. It took less than five minutes for the box to journey from the floor to the top, so he had plenty of time to adjust his feet on the sill of the door.

  Too much time, because there was nothing to do now. He remembered the thousand jumps he’d made through the air, but there’d always been Hugo there, with strong, sure hands. And there’d always been a net below, just in case.

  What if it happens again? What if I freeze here until it’s too late—until the box goes through? He shook his head and looked down, for a strong beam of light had shattered the darkness in an inverted cone, and he instantly saw Dani’s still face in the box. The sight seemed to give him some sort of strength, for he thought no more about himself.

  The humming of the winch sounded very loud in the silence, and the box rose, twisting slowly. Ben kept his eyes on it until it was only twenty feet away from the top, and he saw Dani’s absolutely motionless face. Even with the fearsome leap just seconds away, he had time to think of what a beautiful woman she was. He had come to distrust attractive women, for many of them lacked inward beauty, but ever since he’d met this woman, he’d been aware that she was like no other he’d ever met. They had been abrasive with each other, and he now regretted the times he’d deliberately provoked her, trying her to see if he could find the weakness he suspected lay beneath her face.

  Then the box was at his level, and he saw the dangling net and gathered his legs under him. There was a banging noise as the box hit the sides of the opening, and then it slid through, shutting off almost all the light. That was the exact moment he’d waited for.

  Everything was shut out of his mind, except that the net was now invisible in the darkness, but he launched himself away from the wall, putting every ounce of his strength into it—arms straight out, legs straight back.

  Only twenty feet, but gravity was a giant hand pulling him down. Could he go twenty feet horizontally before that giant pulled him down ten feet?

  He opened his fingers wide, every nerve crying out to feel the rough touch of just one rope!

  Missed! I missed it! With that exquisite sense of timing, he knew that he’d dropped quickly; failure raked across his nerves.

  But at that instant his fingers brushed against something, and he went into the net. Neither hand caught a strand of the webbing, but both hands and arms went through. Even as his weight hit the net, Ben pulled one arm back, managed to free it, and grabbed the net firmly. As he swung wildly under the box, from the effects of his velocity, he freed his other arm, aware that the sudden pressure on the box had driven it against the sides of the opening. He thought grimly, They won’t miss that!

  A crack of light marked the outline of the box, and he heard somebody say, “What’s going on?”

  The gap spread to at least a foot, and Ben waited no longer. He spotted a pair of legs to the right and rolled his legs back, then shoved them forward, coming out from under the box with a twisting force that drove him against the legs of a man, who was instantly knocked down.

  “Hey! Watch out!” he cried out.

  Ben blinked as the sudden brightness of the sky and the snow half blinded him. He rolled to his feet, yanked the chisel out of his pocket, and struck out as hard as he could. Ben’s hand tingled as the weapon caught the man on top of the head and instantly shut off his cry. He dropped at once, but Ben sensed rather than saw another man coming up on his left. He threw himself to one side, but not in time, for something struck him on the temple.

  He went down with a myriad of flashing lights in front of his eyes, but he was not out. Acutely aware that he lay very close to the trap door and that the supply box had continued to rise, Ben thought, He’ll try to shove me into that door! At once he felt strong hands grip him, forcing him backward. Still confused by the blow, suddenly Ben felt an emptiness under his back and knew that he was right over the hole.

  “Put him down, French!” a voice said, and the hands pushed him with an inexorable force. Too strong for me! Ben thought, and with almost half his body over the opening, he suddenly drew back and struck the man in the head, using the chisel. It was not enough to put him out, but the blow addled his assailant. Ben shoved the dazed man off to one side and mercilessly struck him again, driving him to the floor.

  The winch had shut off, and the supply box was swaying slightly, but Ben had no time for that. One man stood between him and death—and he well knew that this man was more dangerous than any he’d ever faced.

  “Well, Savage,” Lovelace said evenly. “I must congra
tulate you.” He looked large and dangerous, standing there with his hands in his pockets. His light-blue eyes focused on Ben steadily, and there was no sign of fear or even of apprehension on his smooth face. “Mr. Stone and I designed this prison, and we agreed there was no way any human being could get out. Of course, we never anticipated having an acrobat as one of our inmates. A mistake of ours, but it doesn’t matter.”

  He had not pulled a gun, and Ben watched him carefully, almost certain that he had one. As if he had read Ben’s mind, Lovelace smiled and pulled a Luger from his overcoat pocket. “It’s almost a shame, Savage,” he said, shaking his head in a mocking gesture. ‘To come so close and yet still lose.”

  Ben moved a step closer, thinking, If I can get near enough, maybe I can kick the gun away.

  But Lovelace lifted the gun and said with a smile, “No, I would prefer you to stand there, if you don’t mind, Mr. Savage. I know you would like to get close enough to use your skill at karate on me, but I really can’t permit it.”

  “Looks like you’ve got the best of the argument.” Ben shrugged. “What’s next? Throw me down the shaft?”

  “Why, no,” Lovelace said. “You’ll simply take a ride back down in the box.”

  “Why not shove me down, like I did with your friend?” Ben taunted. “You’re going to kill us all anyway.”

  “Mr. Stone prefers it this way. I have no more time for you.” He moved to a switch and lowered the box to floor level. Then he moved beside it and said, “I’ll take care of Miss Ross, Savage, but it’s back into the hole for you.”

  Ben watched helplessly as Lovelace shifted the Luger to his left hand, then reached over to put his arm under Dani. Lovelace merely glanced at what he thought was a corpse, keeping his eyes fixed carefully on Ben, but a flash of movement came one split second too late.