It had been’ a gambler’s he and it looked like he was going to lose the gamble.
The first man looked at Douglas slyly. “You know, fat man, I think that’s a lot of bullshit. I don’t think anything’s coming.” He turned.
“Come on, Martha.” A heavy woman in a thick fur coat waddled out of the group and they went to the trapdoor and disappeared down into the smoke-filled kitchen.
“You’re killing yourselves!” Douglas shouted after them.
A few of the other tenants ran to the trapdoor, looked down at the smoke, hesitated, and then walked silently back to the lee of the penthouse.
Douglas had started to shake from the cold. Jesus walked over to him. “Mr. Douglas,” he said quietly, “you never lied to me tonight.
Does anybody know we’re really here? Are there really helicopters coming?” He read the answer in Douglas’ eyes before he had a chance to reply.
“Man, people have lied to me all my life but this time I know why.
At least that’s something.”
“I’m sorry,” Douglas whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t know what else to say-” Somebody in the group yelled, “Listen!” In the. distance, Douglas could hear a dull whop-whop-whop sound.
“It’s a helicopter!” somebody shouted.
Douglas listened closely. It was a ‘copter all right and there were more than one. They’d have to have a place to land. He glanced quickly around. “They can’t land with that television antenna in the way!” he, yelled. “We’ll have to flatten it!” He grabbed the nearest brace and started to pull on it.
I Jesus glanced at the wires, said, “Back in a minute,” and ran for the trapdoor to the kitchen. He disappeared inside and came back a few moments later, carrying a huge cook’s cleaver and coughing heavily.
“You know those two people who went down earlier?” Douglas nodded.
“They couldn’t have made it, man, you can’t breathe down there.”
He chopped at the wires of the.
antenna that Douglas was tugging on. A moment later the tenants had pushed it flat, just as the first ‘copter, appeared ;it the edge of the building.
It touched down on the rooftop and the side door slid open on greased rollers. A lean, rangy man with a thick mustache and dressed in fatigues jumped from the interior. The crowd surged forward and he shouted, “Wait a minute, folks, just a minute! We can only take seven at a time-there’ll be another bus along in a minute, just have your transfers ready!” He turned and dug a tool bag and two long boxes from the inside. “How about some help here?”
Douglas and Jesus ran forward. The crowd was starting to push again and the man yelled, “No more than seven, damnit!” He turned to Jesus. “Count them as they get on, kid. No more than -seven, there’re other choppers right behind this one. If you have any trouble just holler.”
Jesus half smiled. “There won’t be any trouble, man.”
The soldier turned to Douglas. “Name’s Burleigh. How about helping me with these boxes a minute?” Douglas helped him carry the cartons away from the crow Burleigh quickly tore them open.
Inside were tubelike devices with nozzles. They looked very much like two-foot-long rocket motors. “Got any idea where the motor housing the scenic elevator is?”
Douglas glanced quickly around the roof and made a guess as to the approximate location of the scenic elevator.
The shed there had to be it. “Over there,” he said, gesturing at the edge of the roof a hundred feet away. Burleigh jogged over toward it.
Douglas started running after him, then heard Jesus shouting: “Hold it, man, wait your Turn-women first and you don’t look like you’re wearing a skirt!” There was something mumbled about a “fucking PR kid” but nothing more was said. Douglas looked quickly around before following Burleigh. Jesus was standing at the door to the ‘copter, helping women aboard with one hand. In the other, he still held the cleaver. There would be no trouble there, Douglas thought.
He turned and trotted after Burleigh.
The shed that housed the motors and the idler sheaves over which the cables passed was of aluminum sheeting, riveted to an aluminum frame.
The door was locked with a flimsy-looking lock. Burleigh pried the lock loose and kicked the door open. He stepped inside, glanced around in the darkness and said to Douglas, “We’ve got to knock this down so the cables are exposed to the air-how tight’s the siding?” He kicked at one experimentally and it came partly loose at the bottom from the rivets that held it to the frame. “Help me with the others.”
Douglas started kicking at the panels at the bottom, then wrenching them away where they were riveted at the top. Most of the panels he let lay where they fell on the roof. A few slid over the edge of the building and spiraled away into the darkness. Burleigh took a heavy wrench from his bag and started hammering on the overhead roof panels.
Within a matter of minutes, there was nothing left of the shed but the thin frame. Inside was the control panel, motor generator set and starter, and the gearless machine beneath which the secondary idler sheave was suspended. Fortunately, the skeletal frame would not interfere with their work.
Burleigh looked for a long moment at the motors and the idler sheaves, suspended out from the building’s edge, and the cables disappearing down below into the darkness.
He shook his head. “This is going to be a bastard.”
Douglas glanced back at the tenants gathered in the middle of the roof. The first ‘copter was taking off with its load, disappeared into the sky, and a second one settled in its place. The rest of the tenants had dutifully queued up under Jesus’ shouted directions.
Somewhere, that kid had to fit in, Douglas thought briefly.
Then there was a heavy chopping sound overhead and he glanced up into the night to watch the biggest helicopter he had ever seen settling toward them, a heavy cable dangling from its recessed midriff.
CHAPTER 66
Barton and Infantino were waiting as the first of the helicopters descended out of the night to land on the broad plaza surrounding the Glass House. The landing area had been cleared of planters and the fire hoses shifted. The ‘copter settled to the ground and the door poened as the blades idled. Several policemen and ambulance attendants rushed forward to assist the passengers as they stumbled out. A few were coughing badly; all looked chilled and wet.
Infantino bellowed at the ambulance personnel: “Those that need treatment for burns or smoke inhalation, take them directly to the hospital-the others go to the first-aid station in the lower lobby!”
Barton searched the faces frantically as the people left the helicopter. “Quinn! Over here, Quinn!” She turned and smiled wanly.
Barton hurried over. “Where’s Jenny?”
The smile faded. “I’m sorry Craig. She and the.
Lerouxes were in the last elevator load that started down.
She glanced quickly around as if looking for someone then said: “How bad is it?”
“Very bad-though there’s an outside-chance we can get to the elevator.”
Reporters and cameramen had started to surge around them now.
Barton caught a brief glimpse of Quantrell and his assistants talking to some of the tenants as they were being, escorted to ambulances.
Then he felt somebody pushing behind him.
“Quinn! My God, Quinn!” A tall man, somewhat younger than himself, pushed past and then Quinn was in his arms. For a moment Barton watched them; Quinn’s eyes were closed, but he could see the tears streaking down her face.
“Leslie, please get me out of here.”
“Sure, Quinn, my car’s half a block down-the police let me through.”
He took off his coat and wrapped it around her and started to lead her off. She glanced back once, said, “Good luck, Craig,” then huddled against the man at her side. The poise and self-reserve were leaving her very quickly ;low, and Barton could see that she was sobbing.
Barton briefly thought of Jenny, t
hen turned back to the milling crowd and shouted at the police, “Get these people back, get them out of here! Another ‘copter win be landing here in a minute or two!”
Infantino had talked briefly with the helicopter pilot and now hurried over to Barton. “Burleigh -turned the bird over to his copilot; he’s handling the elevator up there.”
“Let’s wish him luck,” Barton said quietly. Then the copter blades started to Turn as the helicopter rose from its improvised landing pad.
Far above they could see a second one descending.
“It’s our turn as soon as Number Four comes in,” Infantino said.
“It will probably take us that long to get ready.” A runner ran over and handed him a’slip and he glanced at it, then turned to Barton, his face grim. “Casualty report. You remember that salesman you couldn’t account for? Bigelow? We found him.” He spelled out the details and Barton felt as if he were going to get sick.
“What about his girl friend, the one Jernigan thought might be with him?”
“Elmon?” Infantino shrugged. “Three guesses,” he said, and nodded at the canvas-wrapped sculpture before the building.
Behind them, the second U.H-1 settled softly to the plaza and began to discharge its tired passengers.
CHAPTER 67
“Come on, you mother!” Tex Burleigh swore violently to himself as he hurriedly pulled down the last of the elevator housing. The cables that wound over the sheaves were now exposed directly to the elements.
“Four of them must have snapped,” Douglas said, holding Burleigh’s flashlight on the.cable drums.
Burleigh glanced over at him, trying to estimate how much muscle there might be beneath the man’s bulk. Big men had a way of fooling you, he thought, but something told him there was a good deal of power under the man’s flab. “What’d you say your name was? Douglas? Well, look, Douglas, can you stick it out here for a little while?
I know you’re freezing your ass but I’m going to need your help.”
He was shouting now, trying to make himself heard over the noise of another U.H-1 setting down on the roof and the roar from the giant Sikorsky overhead.
“You’ve got it!” Douglas yelled. “What do you want me to do?”
Burleigh pointed above them at the Sikorsky and the long cable that dangled from her middle. “We’ve got to splice the cable from the F-106 to one of the elevator cables and then cut them free from the sheaves.”
He pointed at the two rocketlike tubes. “That’s what the torches are for.”
“What if the splice doesn’t hold?”
“Mister, it’s got to!” Burleigh began to pull out various tools from the bag at his feet. Finally he took out three large, slotted steel bars, each with two heavy, hexagonal bolts protruding. “These are our splices and we damned well better make one of them good!”
Burleigh gripped a ten-inch wrench and began to loosen the hexagonal bolts. One end of the splice bar fell open as he withdrew one of the bolts. “You’ll have to hold onto me while I get this around the elevator cable,” he told Douglas.
“Will it fit?” Douglas asked.
“The bolt tightens the jaws of the splice. They’re serrated; they’ll bite into the cable like teeth. After we splice onto the Sikorsky cable, then we’ll have to cut the elevator cables free. But before that, we’ll have to wrap the cables with wire to keep them from splaying. They Could take your head off otherwise. And if the splice doesn’t hold, that’s the end of the ball game.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a walky-talky and extended its antenna. “City Shuttle Two, come in.”
“Loud and clear, Tex-where the hell are you?”
Burleigh nodded at Douglas. “Give them a wave with the flashlight.”
Douglas moved back from the shed and started to wave with the flashlight, then felt himself start to slip and kicked out with his foot. He felt it hit something and then found purchase on part of the shed platform. He flicked the switch on the flashlight several times and waved it back and forth. The Sikorsky spun on its rotor thirty degrees and moved forward, settling lower as it moved, the single cable trailing slightly behind it in the wind.
“Okay, hold it,” Burleigh said into the walky-talky.
then “Give me about ten feet of cable.”
Above them, the ‘copters winch made a distant whining sound and the cable slowly dropped. It whipped across the roof once, then came back.
Burleigh threw Douglas a heavy mechanic’s rag. “Grab it with this; don’t use your hands-it’ll cut them to ribbons.” Douglas took the rag, then caught the end of the cable, feeding it into the shaft opening at his feet. The cable continued to lower.
“Okay, hold it for the splice.” Burleigh slipped the walky-talky back into his pocket, picked up the wrench, and glanced about the roof for one of the splices. “Hey, what the hell-?”
Douglas lowered the flashlight so the beam hit the rooftop. Only two of the slotted metal rods were there.
The big man had slipped on the roof for a moment, Burleigh recalled; he had probably kicked one of them over the side. Douglas thought of it at the same time and for a moment looked like he was going to come apart.
“Christ, I didn’t mean-“
“Forget it,” Burleigh said. “I told you one would hold.” He picked up a splice and said, “Okay, grab my legs.
I’ll be leaning over one of the sheaves. When I give you the word, feed me the copter cable.”
Douglas found a purchase and gripped both of Burleigh’s legs.
Burleigh leaned far out over the shaft opening. The wind whipped about his head, tugged at his fatigue cap, and blew it out into the void.
The elevator cable was cold and coated with a thin slick of ice.
For a second Burleigh felt as if his hands might stick to the metal.
He brought the open latch of the splice around and secured it onto the cable. Then he inserted the bolt and began to tighten it with the wrench. The snowflakes melted on his hands and made the wrench slippery and suddenly it started to slide out of his grasp. He grabbed for it with the other hand and heard the splice riding down the cable.
He wriggled back up and sat on the roof, breathing hard for a minute.
“All right,” he said finally, “that’s one for each of us. Last try, and this time we’ve got to make it good.”
Burleigh leaned into the hole again, Douglas -holding onto his legs.
The man was a helluva lot stronger than he had thought at first; he was probably really suffering from the cold, too-with absolutely no complaining.
Again, Burleigh brought the open latch of the splice around the cable. The going was slow as he tightened the bolt and once more the wrench almost slipped from his grip. Finally the teeth bit tightly into the cable. He then estimated where he was going to cut it and wrapped the cable on each side of the projected cut with steel wire he had brought along, using the wrench to tighten the tourniquet of steel around the bundle of wires that made up the cable.
Then he yelled, “Feed me the ‘copter cable!”
Douglas loosened one hand for an instant and a second later the ‘copter cable snaked down past Burleigh’s face.
This was the difficult part, he thought: The cable had to be threaded through the other end of the splice which didn’t open. The cable was cold and writhed in his hand; he could even feel the vibration of the ‘copters motor through it. They had given him enough slack so the bucking Sikorsky in the heavy gusts of wind didn’t give him too much trouble. He found the end of the cable and after two false starts succeeded in threading it in a “U” through the other end of the splice.
After that, he wrenched down the second bolt until it bit into the ‘copter cable.
He pulled himself back onto the roof, smiled triumphantly at Douglas, and took out his walky-talky again.
“Okay, take it up slowly-very slowly, just enough to take up the slack.” He waited until the cable drew taut. “Okay, that’s it.
H
old-it there. When I cut it loose, we don’t want the damned thing to drop too far.”
He slipped on a pair of safety goggles, picked up one of the solid propellant torches and yelled at Douglas, “This is dangerous-stand back a little.” He pulled the safety pin and then the igniter wire, aiming the nozzle out into the night. The torch took fire with a swoosh and jetted out a burst of flame for a foot. The flame sparkled with burning aluminum power while a heavy white cloud boiled from the jet.
Burleigh moved around the shaft opening so he could get at the one cable that had not been spliced. The flame slowly cut through it in a violent shower of sparks. When the cable parted, the snapping sounded like a firecracker going off. Even with the wire sizing wrapped around them, several strands of the cable popped loose and whipped about like striking snakes.
The cutting of the last cable was easier. The metal strands glowed red, then white, and finally erupted in a shower of sparks. The metal sagged for an instant and then he was through.
Above him, the ‘copter cable sang under the tension.
Burleigh pulled himself back and spoke into the hand radio again.
“It’s snug down here, start winching it up.
When I give you the word that you’re clear, move out and up.
Whatever you do, don’t let the cage bang against the building.”
He motioned Douglas back onto the center of the roof -no point in both of them being in danger. The Sikorsky was winching the cage up now, sliding it along the face of the utility wall. They had some three hundred feet to go and progress was slow. Now he could hear the distant scraping. It sounded closer, then finally very close. He glanced over the edge of the building and could see the top of the cage approaching the floor below. That would ordinarily be the limit of its travel.
He flicked on the walky-talky again. “Okay, swing it out now.”
He walked back to the middle of the roof where Douglas was standing.
The Sikorsky was rising and moving slowly away from the building.
The Glass Inferno Page 42