"Agreed," Carter said, snapping the lock open. "They had to install a way for the prisoners to get down from the third tier lo the first, in case the stairs were blocked."
The light flickered and went out. By the time Amani lit another match, Carter had the door open.
"A fireman's pole!" Amani gasped.
"Yeah," Carter said. "It satisfied the safety people, but of coarse no one bothered to tell the prisoners it was here."
"But when we get down to the first tier, we will still be in the cellblocks."
"No, we won't, because we're not going down… we're going up. Take your shoes and socks off and tie them around your neck."
"Why?"
"Because the pole is slick — easy to shoe down, hard to climb up. You can get more leverage with bare skin."
They both quickly removed their shoes and socks and tied them around their necks. Then Carter lit the whole book of matches and leaned into the hole, holding the light over his head.
"Think you can make it?" It was about forty feet to the top and the trapdoor leading onto the roof.
Amani nodded. "I'll make it. There is still a lot of muscle in this fat."
"Good enough. If you feel yourself start to slip, grab my leg."
Carter dried his hands, blew out the matches, and gripped the pole. Monkey like, he got the soles of his feet on it and started up.
He could hear Amani behind him already puffing, and hoped the man could last until he, Carter, could get me trap open and lean back to help him.
"You all right?"
"Yes," came the gasping reply. "How much… much…"
"Farther?"
"Yes."
"I'm there."
The trap creaked like hell when it was opened, but Carter managed to lower it softly to the roof. He jackknifed out of the hole and instantly whirled to dip one arm back in.
"Grab my hand!"
Amani managed to wrap one hand, and then both of them, around Carter's wrist, even as he started slipping back down the pole.
To the old man's surprise, he felt himself being hoisted upward as if his weight were no more than a mere boy's.
Once on the roof, with breath back in his lungs, he turned to face Carter.
"You are very, very strong, Kashmir.
"I know," Carter said, grinning. "Don't forget it in the days ahead. Come on, this way!"
As they ran across the roof, Carter unwound a nylon line from beneath his shirt. He secured it to a ventilator pipe, looked over the side, and dropped it with a hissing sound toward the ground.
"We are over the old part of the yard, where they dump the trash and where the tool sheds for the gardens are located.
"I know it," Amani replied and smiled. "Very wise. The lights here have been burned out for months.
"Were burned out. The bastards replaced them the day before yesterday. I spent the whole afternoon today with a slingshot and rocks, breaking them out again."
"How far down is it?"
"About a hundred feet. Can you make it?"
"Going down, Kashmir, even that distance, will be easier than what I just did!"
"Good. Here, lake one pair of these gloves. The rope is nylon, and even though it's knotted every foot or so, it will burn the hell out of your hands if you slip. And put your shoes back on."
When they were both ready. Carter slipped over the side and began his descent into the darkness.
Ten
Carlotta Polti took one last look at the apartment before dousing the light. A lot had been accomplished out of these rooms in the past few days. A sudden clutch in her belly made her wish, strangely enough, that she could linger.
But that was impossible. Everything had been set in motion now, and nothing could stop it.
As she closed and locked the door, she hoped that she would be alive to see the place again twelve hours hence.
"A franc for your thoughts," Jason Henry said, smiling up at her from the landing.
Carlotta returned his grin. She had grown to like the big American. He made her laugh. "All my thoughts are of lost innocence."
"I wouldn't know about that," he replied. "I never had any. Come along, they'll have our bird ready by now."
On the street, the bright lights of the cafes streamed out to their left at the foot of Montmartre. The sound of laughter mixed with sad, almost bluesy music reached their ears as they walked to the car. A light snow was beginning to fall.
Carlotta had an impulse to grab the big American's arm and steer him down the hill. It would be nice to sit in one of the cafes, drink some wine, and forget, even for an hour.
But they didn't have an hour. Carlotta couldn't remember the last time she had thrown away an hour.
She shrugged off her maudlin thoughts and threw her bag in the back of a little Fiat sedan.
"I would have thought you'd have chosen something faster… a Jaguar or a Mercedes," she commented, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Not for a deal like this," Henry said. "This little bucket of bolts is less conspicuous, and besides, if anyone has sported us, speed won't do much good."
Carlotta was thrown into the seat with the Gs of his takeoff, and then they were swerving and speeding through the narrow streets toward the outer belt of boulevards that would take them around Paris, past the Bois de Boulogne, to the A10. They would take the major artery south to Orleans.
As they passed the Bois, Henry chuckled. "Met my first wife there… on a Sunday afternoon. Laid her that night and we got married the following Wednesday."
Carlotta laughed aloud. "She must have been good."
"Oh, she was good."
"Why didn't it last?"
"The poor woman was foolish enough to want me all to herself. I wasn't capable of staying that way. Never have been, probably never will."
"It sounds like you're a sucker for women."
"Absolutely clay in their hands. Gets me into a pot of trouble every time."
"You wouldn't also be referring to the trouble this woman is about to get you in?"
He laughed. "I might."
She flashed him a smile in the dashboard lights. "I'll try to get you a bonus. Turn on the heater, will you? It's getting a little chilly."
He reached down and pushed the temperature lever to let hot water into the healer coils, then opened the floor vents slightly. Carlotta unfolded her legs and moved forward to the edge of rite seal to let the hot air blow on her legs.
"Better?"
"Yes. thanks."
"Enjoy it while you can," he said, his face suddenly grim. "It's going to get a lot colder."
"What in hell is all of this?" Amani asked as Carter threw the gear from the shed and began breaking it down.
"These are helium tanks, this is a balloon, this is a nylon and plastic reel, and these are converted body harnesses. Here, climb into this jacket!"
It was heavy and fur lined. "I take it we're going to get a little chilly."
"We're going to go over the mountains into France. If this reel doesn't work, we'll be going overexposed and get very chilly."
Amani shrugged into the jacket and lifted his arms at Carter's command. Very carefully. Carter buckled him into the harness, then checked the attachments to the second harness that he would soon climb into himself.
Then he stretched the balloon flat on the ground and attached the helium tanks to its intake valves. "Here, take this… but don't pull on it."
"What is it?"
"A simple little light cord. When the balloon fills and we go up, you pull the cord… but not until I tell you. There are two red beacons attached to a large round eye on the top of the balloon. When the beacons go on. they will allow the copter pilot to get his grappling hook into the eye."
"My God, at first I thought we were just going to float over the wall."