Suddenly the elevator cage was in the clear, swaying back and forth in the wind and finally settling into a gentle oscillation as the cable shortened still more.
“You’re on your own,” Burleigh told the pilot and signaled with the flashlight. The Sikorsky rotated and started the long descent, lowering the elevator cage to the roof near a U.H-1 that had just landed.
Douglas was suddenly laughing and pounding Burleigh on the shoulder.
“Well, what do you know,” Burleigh said, suddenly aware of the sweat oozing from under his arms. “We did it.”
“You didn’t think you would?”
“Mister, that’s something I’ll never tell anyone, not even on my deathbed.” Burleigh said fervently. He started running toward the elevator cage. “Come on, we’ve got to get those people out of there!”
CHAPTER 68
It was quiet in the darkness of the elevator cage, except for the sounds of one person sobbing. It was a full minute before Leroux realized that it was a man crying-the same heavy-set man who had been so belligerent a few moments before. He shivered; outside the snow and sleet spattered against the glass walls of the elevator and he could feel the cold penetrate his thin tuxedo. Somebody was pressing up against him and he knew by the faint fragrance of her perfume that it was Thelma.
“What wig happen, Wyn?”
He hugged her gently and kissed her on the ear. “I don’t know-just hang,here for a while, I guess.”
Thelma lowered her voice. “We don’t stand much of a chance, do we?
He let just the ‘right note of annoyance creep into his voice. “I know what the cables can take, Thelma. if I thought we were going to drop, I wouldn’t have tried to reassure people. Everybody should have a chance to make their peace with God without any kibitzing from me.”
He could feel her relax and thought to himself that the Almighty would forgive him that one white lie. She was absolutely right; they didn’t stand much of a chance.
The heavy winds suddenly caught the cage and swung it away from the building a short distance, then let it swing back against the concrete wall behind him. The cage twisted on its cables as it did so and crashed slightly askew.
One of the glass side walls cracked and a woman standing near him was thrown off her feet, her cry lost in a sudden burst of screaming.
Leroux tensed. The cage couldn’t take much of that, let alone the cables. There were only a few left.
“Listen!” somebody shouted. There was a sharp clatter from overhead and Leroux strained his eyes to peer out into the night.
Seconds later heavy debris fell past the glass walls.
Leroux wasn’t sure but it looked like aluminum sheeting and maybe thin angle iron. He was mystified for a moment, then suddenly remembered the scenic elevator’s housing far above. My God, if it was coming apart …
He suddenly felt Thelma’s grip on his arm. “What’s that, Wyn?”
Leroux cocked his head, then picked up the faint sounds. The distant chop, chop, chop above them.
Not one of the light helicopters he had seen a few minutes earlier, but probably a big mother, maybe a Sikorsky F-106 they had used to lift some of the heavier equipment up to the restaurant during construction.
Trust Barton to think of that. They’d probably try a cable splice and swing them up. He raised his voice.
“Everybody quiet and listen to me! They’ve brought in a sky-hook helicopter and I think they’re going to use it to pull us up. It’ll be bumpy and I’d suggest all of us lie down on the floor.”
“What the hell do you know?” the heavy-set man suddenly shouted.
“You haven’t guessed right on your building so far!
The other passengers had begun to ease themselves to the floor.
Somebody mumbled, “Watch your damned knee,” and finally they were all down except the heavy-set man who was still standing, braced against the one cracked glass wall.
“Get down!” Leroux -warned. “This cage’s going to crash into the wall a dozen times before they get us to the top.”
“Screw you,” the man said.
He couldn’t get to him, Leroux thought. He couldn’t force him down.
“Suit yourself,” he said shortly. He and Thelma were lying together, and he suddenly put his arm around her and pulled her closer.
They would either make it or they wouldn’t, and, if they didn’t he wanted to feel her body against his one last time.
“Listen,” Thelma whispered. The cables overhead were singing in the wind. Suddenly one fell past the cage. The elevator sank an inch and Leroux tightened his hold on his wife. A second cable lashed past the cage and disappeared into the night.
“The next one will be the last one they’ll cut,” he said quietly to Thelma. “Let’s pray their splice is good.”
The last cable parted and the cage dropped for half a foot.
Somewhere in the mass of bodies on the floor a woman choked off a half-scream.
The car swayed alarmingly for a moment and then began to inch up the side of the building. There was a frightening scraping and banging sound and Leroux felt his own heart start to beat uncontrollably. It wouldn’t be long now, he thought. They were almost there. What incredible irony if in the last moment … No, he mustn’t think of that.
They were abreast of the utility floor now and he could see the smoky red of the flames. Then they started to swing out from the building until they seemed to be floating over the city below, wrapped in pounding snow and driving wind. The cage -swung loose in the wind and then a particularly strong gust swung it far enough away from the building so there was a perceptible tip to the floor.
It occurred to Leroux then what was going to happen and he screamed, “Get down, get down!” They had begun to swing back now and they ere still in line with the building. There was an abrupt jolt and a shattering sound and almost immediately afterward a scream that quickly faded away into the distance. A voice shouted, “I’m cut!”
and a sudden gust of cold air told Leroux what had happened. They had hit the building on the side again and the one glass wall had shattered; the heavy-set man who had braced himself against it had nothing to hold onto and had fallen out.
Leroux closed his eyes and whispered to himself, “Oh, my-God.”
Then the cage had stabilized. He could feel it still ascending as the helicopter continued to lift it, then the slight g as the cage was positioned over the roof and finally he could sense it slowly dropping.
He was tired -too damn tired to even watch.
A moment later the cage touched down heavily on the roof. Leroux tumbled forward with the impact, his head hitting the cage wall and momentarily stunning him. Then everything was silent except for the whistling of the wind.
They were safe, he thought. Safe.
There were the sounds of men outside now, gently pulling the remnants of broken glass out of the one side wall. Then people were struggling to their feet and helping hands were pulling them out of the cage.
Thelma said, “We’re safe, Wyn,” and suddenly she began to cry.
He wrapped his arms around her for a moment and then they -were stepping through the shattered side wall.
His mind was already on other things.
They were all safe, he thought. All but himself. On the ground below would be the reporters and the fire inspectors and probably a team flown in from Washington.
All safe, he thought again.
Except for himself.
CHAPTER 69
Barton was still struggling into his aluminized proximity suit when the evacuation U.H-1 settled down on the plaza to discharge its passengers. Infantino was already into his suit and impatient for Barton to finish.
“Any more information from the Sikorsky?” Barton asked.
“Just that Burleigh is working at the linkup. By the time we get up there, maybe they’ll have beat us with the elevator. One thing for sure; we can’t blow these charges with people on the roof. Here, let me help
you with your respirator.” He stepped behind Barton and adjusted the straps.
“Did you get your men out of the stairwells?”
“The upper floors have been cleared-I don’t think we need to worry about the lower ones.”
“What about the streets below?”
“The police have been given their orders.” He frowned.
“I shouldn’t be letting you go on this one.”
“You have somebody else who knows how to handle explosives-and who knows the building?”
The copilot of the waiting U.H-1 ran up. “Okay, they’re all off but the elevator passengers. You men ready?”
Barton nodded. He recognized the copilot from his weekend reserve work when he had been with the squadron but couldn’t remember his name.
He’d won thirty dollars from him in a poker game one night-that he recalled. But the name was a blank. He gathered up the heavy canvas satchel containing the explosive charges connected by the primacord.
Infantino finished the adjustments on, his own respirator, then picked up the other satchel. Once they were on the Observation Deck, they would have to connect the two explosive arrays together.
They walked clumsily across the plaza toward the waiting U.H-1, its blades cutting cleanly through the snow-thickened air. The copilot helped Infantino and Barton climb inside and then belted into his own seat.
The pilot glanced back briefly at Barton and said, “All comfy, Captain? Here we go.” Barton nodded and the pilot felt for the four antitorque pedals with his feet. Then he checked the position of the collective, a two-foot stick centered in its left-hand panel, and the cyclic stick above him. He nodded at the copilot who was now on radio, and moved the collective. The ‘copter rose and hovered for a second, slowly turning as he corrected the torque.
Then they were airborne, rising quickly into. the black night.
“I can’t set it down too close the the restaurant,” the pilot yelled at them. “They’re loading another U.H-1 up there and that Sikorsky is still overhead-its downdraft would rip us apart.”
“Try the penthouse,” Barton shouted back. “There’re some gardens separating it from the Promenade Room you won’t be able to set down there. You’ll have to use its roof.” He turned to Infantino and said in a musing voice, “That was going to have been the best address in the city. Got any idea what that penthouse would have rented for?”
Infantino didn’t look impressed. “Right now it’s only good for one thing and after that, it won’t be good for much of anything.”
“We’re coming in!” the pilot yelled. The ‘copter slipped sideways toward the glistening rooftop, sailing over a loading U.H-1, and then settling down on the,small snow-covered roof of the penthouse.
Infantino and Barton unbelted and Barton tugged open the door.
They got out quickly and Barton glanced back at The Promenade Room roof in time to see the Sikorsky swing the elevator cage in and slowly lower it toward the roof. Two figures ran over to it and pried the doors open.
People straggled out to clamber on the waiting U.H-1; several of them had to be carried.
Even at a distance he could recognize Leroux. The commanding figure and the white hair, caught for a moment in the spotlights from the rescue craft, were unmistakable. Barton’s heart suddenly leaped with relief.
Behind Leroux was Jenny, and she was looking over at them.
Probably wondering who they were and what they were up to. There was no chance that she would recognize him, dressed as he was in the mirror-bright proximity suit. He started to wave but she and Leroux had already disappeared into the waiting rescue ‘copter. Another U.H-1 was hovering alongside the building to take off the last of the passengers..
Infantino was busy pulling. the satchels out of their own ‘copter.
The last item he took out was an electric lantern, which he flicked on.
“Got everything?” he asked.
“Everything,” Barton said. He reached to put on his respirator, then paused a moment. “Be sure the Primacord fits into its slot under the charge backoff. These charges have to be level on the floor and they need the backoff space to concentrate their punch.”
“Understood,” Infantino said, slipping on his facepiece. He motioned Barton to do the same. Now Barton felt like he was in a world of his own, his breath sighing through the respirator valve. Heavy winds beat across the roof, and for a moment the ‘copter behind them teetered, then righted itself.
“You guys better hurry!” the pilot yelled at them. “We can’t hold here under this wind for very long.” The copilot rolled the door shut and the pilot pulled back into his seat. Suddenly the rotors stopped. That. was stupid, Barton thought. You didn’t kill your engine under these circumstances. Then he heard the high whine of the starter and watched the blades begin to slowly rotate again. The pilot had lost his fire. Well, that was his problem, he’d have to get it started again.
Barton and Infantino picked up their heavy canvas bags and trudged across the penthouse roof. It would be murder to try and climb through the restaurant trapdoor and down the ladder into the kitchen, Barton thought, even if they could make it across the gardens to the icy Promenade Room roof. Not with their bulky suits and satchels of explosives. But inside the penthouse was a staircase that led to the kitchen hallway and from there they could get to the Observation Deck.
They pushed through the door of The rooftop entrance and carefully descended the steps to the penthouse anteroom.
The inside door was locked. Infantino tried it one more time then stepped back and kicked it open with his heavy boot. They stood in the gloom of the penthouse for a second trying to orient themselves. The air was thick with smoke, which explained why the tenants hadn’t sought refuge there. Infantino slowly flashed his lantern around, the light cutting through the smoke to the paneled walls and splashing off the parquet floors. Like the other upper apartment floors of the building, the penthouse was still unfinished and the inside was a confusion of supplies and building materials, with sheets of wallboard and lumber stacked against one of the walls.
Infantino located the stairs with his lantern and started to walk toward them. Suddenly Barton reached out a restraining hand and signaled for quiet. He stood there for a long moment and listened, with his feet as well as with his ears. Beyond the distant shriek of the wind, there was no noise, no sense of the pulsing life that had been the building. Even with the insulation, there should have been the subtle feel of throbbing life in the building below-it was impossible to completely mask the vibrations of powerful machinery, he thought.
But now there was no noise, no vibrations, no feeling of the power and life that had once filled the building.
“What’s the matter?” Infantino asked, his voice sounding muffled from behind his facepiece.
Barton shook his head. “Nothing-let’s get on with it.”
They walked over to the carpeted steps that led down to the kitchen hallway, and then climbed down the smoke-filled stairwell to the Observation Deck. The smoke was blinding them now and Infantino motioned Barton to hug the wall.
It was in the stairwell where they stumbled across the two bodies.
A man and his wife, probably. She had on a heavy fur coat and he had a tablecloth wrapped around his head and shoulders. Barton guessed that they had been two of the tenants on the roof who had changed their minds before the helicopters showed up. They had tried to get back down and died of smoke inhalation on the stairs. He pulled off a glove and knelt down to check for a pulse. Nothing. He looked up at Infantino, who shook his head and pointed at their bags. Barton stood up and they stepped over the bodies and continued down the stairwell.
Once on the Observation Deck the -air was somewhat cooler, though the smoke was just as thick. Barton pulled the canvas bag from his shoulders and Infantino did the same. Barton was the lead man in positioning the charges and he searched for the corner he had chosen from Shevelson’s blueprints. He set the first charge in position and
carefully measured out the distance to the second charge.
With these two in place, they needed only to stretch the Primacord taut to position the other charges. Infantino linked into his array and placed his charges on the other side of the central room. Barton checked quickly to make sure all the charges were upright in their positioning sleeves, then taped a length of Primacord from Infantino’s array onto a lead cord from his own. They had three charges left and Barton began to-unreel the remaining Primacord toward the central room. Infantino wedged the door open and once inside, Barton set one of the charges at the base of the Freon tank and the remaining two opposite sides of the water reservoirs.
After he had finished, Barton signaled Infantino and they went back to the Observation Deck proper. Barton taped a detonator cap onto one of the lengths of Primacord and inserted a delay fuse. He took a pair of crimping pliers from the canvas satchel and crimped the soft copper sleeve of the detonator cap onto the fuse. Once the charges were set off, they stood a good chance of collapsing the entire floor; certainly there would be vents for the cascading water and Freon to reach the floor below. And with any luck at all, the fire floors might pancake one onto the other.
For a moment Barton couldn’t find the butane lighter in the bottom of the canvas bag and searched frantically through it, then located it in a partially ripped seam of the satchel. He thumbed it and played the flame over the fuse until it started to sputter and then roared into life.
He and Infantino ran to the stairwell and seconds later were in the penthouse and racing for the ladder to the penthouse roof.
Outside a U.H-1 was waiting for them, the copilot standing by the open door. Above, the slowly revolving blades quivered in the heavy wind and the ‘copter rocked slightly. Barton fumbled at his facepiece and hastily climbed in. “We’ve got about fifty seconds-let’s get moving!”
Infantino followed him in and they belted down.
The pilot grabbed at the collective stick and increased power.
There was a heavy sputtering and then silence as the ‘copter blades wound down. “Must’ve got water in the ignition,” the pilot grunted.
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