"Tonight, you'll discover consequences. I see smoke down here," the voice said.
Balenger put the walkie-talkie into his knapsack. He and Amanda pushed at the shutter. He was surprised how smoothly the rollers shifted along their rail.
4.00 a.m.
58
The window gaped. Like the others in the hotel, it was broken, part of the hotel's disguise to make it appear oppressively deserted. Out of the howling darkness, wind and rain struck Balenger's face. He and Amanda took urgent breaths, filling their nostrils, throats, and lungs. Lightning flashed, illuminating the beach seven levels below.
Balenger raised the window frame to avoid being cut by the shards in it. "I'll find a spot to anchor the rope," he told Amanda. "Close the shutter as soon as I'm out. If Ronnie smells the fresh air, he'll know what we're doing."
He climbed through the window. Rain lashed him. In green-tinted darkness, he eased down to the roof. The wind gusted at him, imaginary hands shoving. Moisture pelted his face, entering his mouth. It tasted bitter, a mixture of sweat, dirt, and blood from his cheeks.
The rain on his goggles made it difficult to see. He wiped their lenses, flinched from a nearby lightning strike, and moved cautiously forward.
The roof felt spongy. He shifted to the right, breathing slightly easier when the area under him became solid again. At the roof's edge, he crouched to prevent the wind from pushing him over.
For a moment, he allowed himself to hope, but then he peered down, and despair swept through him. The center of the roof below him was collapsed, water streaming into it. Lightning revealed the lower levels. They were damaged from years of punishing weather and lack of maintenance. Surfaces were peeled back, flapping in the wind. Holes were evident, even from a distance.
Balenger opened his mouth to breathe. Wind filled his throat. No, he thought. No! Lightning struck the beach. The rain strengthened, intensifying the chill of his drenched clothes, but that was nothing compared to the chill that invaded his spirit. He looked for a place to secure the rope that was in his knapsack.
A ventilation pipe. He approached it, his goggles revealing rust. When he pushed a shoe against it, the pipe held. He pushed with greater force. The pipe continued to hold. Wiping rain from his goggles, he headed back to the shutter. Another spongy section of roof threatened to collapse. He skirted it, took three steps, and abruptly, his left shoe broke the surface. He froze, supporting his weight on his other foot. Slowly, he pulled the shoe free. Testing, he continued across the roof.
When he reached to slide the shutter open, it startled him, seeming to move on its own. Amanda's arms came into view, helping him through the window.
Dripping, shivering, he squirmed into the kitchen and closed the shutter. After the fresh air, the penthouse's atmosphere of smoke, pain, and death was overwhelming.
His goggles couldn't hide how depressed he felt.
"What's wrong?" Amanda asked.
"The three of us can't do it."
"Can't?"
"Two of us lifting Vinnie-the roof won't hold our weight. If you go separately, you might make it. But if I carry Vinnie, I'll… he and I will go through the roof. We might never stop dropping till we reach the ground floor."
"But…"
"Leave," Vinnie whispered in pain.
Balenger was surprised that Vinnie was conscious.
"Holding you back." Vinnie's murmur was distorted with agony. "Leave me. Get help."
"No, I won't leave you." Balenger took off the knapsack and removed the rope. "Amanda, you weigh the least. There's a ventilation pipe. I tested it. It'll hold you. Loop the rope around it. Slide down the wall. Pull the rope down to you. Find another anchor and keep climbing down."
Amanda's face tensed in concentration. "How far to the ground?"
"Seven levels."
"Slide down the rope? It's called 'rappeling,' right?"
"Yes."
"It's not as easy as you make it sound. Even if I manage to reach the bottom, what happens next? Where do I find help?"
"There's nobody in this area. You'll need to go to the police station. I'll give you directions."
"How far?"
"A mile."
The smoke made Amanda cough. "In this storm? As weak as I am from being in that vault? With my legs protected only by this nightgown? I'll collapse from hypothermia before I get there. You go."
"But-"
"You're the strongest. I'll stay with Vinnie."
He studied her. Blond hair. Determined, lovely features. So much like Diane.
The idea abruptly seemed futile. "By the time I bring help, it might be too late," he said.
"Then what are we going to do?"
Balenger listened to the rain against the shutter. "Maybe there's only one chance."
She watched him, trying to control her desperation.
"I need to go after him," Balenger said.
"Yes." The cold made Amanda's lips pale.
An apron hung next to the sink. He wrapped it around her unprotected legs.
Something made her frown toward a corner. When he looked in that direction, he saw a rat. Other rats stated in from the dining room.
"They're attracted to the smell of Vinnie's legs," Amanda said.
More rats appeared at the door to the library. One had a single eye.
Balenger went to the bedroom and took an object from Cora's jacket. When he returned, he showed Amanda what it was.
The water pistol.
"Vinegar." He squirted a rat. It darted away.
She took the pistol.
Static came from the walkie-talkie. "The smoke's thicker down here," Ronnie's voice said.
"Then maybe you should leave the building," Balenger replied.
He turned off the walkie-talkie and put it into his knapsack. He shoved the crowbar in also. Facing Amanda, he promised, "I'll come back as soon as I can."
But he didn't move, couldn't turn away from her. Each felt the same impulse. They put their arms around each other.
Balenger tried to draw strength from her, possibly the last friendly person he would ever see. His chest swelling with emotion, he slid the shutter open. The rain pelted him. Just before he eased onto the roof, he peered back into the kitchen and saw Amanda sink to the floor, where she cradled Vinnie's head on her lap. The green-tinted rats formed a semi-circle at the edge of the room. She aimed the water pistol. He settled his weight on the roof and closed the shutter.
59
The wind threatened to suck air from his lungs as he worked his way toward the ventilation pipe. With each step, he feared that his foot would again break the surface. Drenched, he studied rain-swept puddles, deciding that the roof would be weakest where water collected. But the next spongy section he encountered was in a raised area that turned out to be a blister. He stepped back and veered around it.
A crack of lightning struck the tip of the pyramid. It reminded him of an artillery shell exploding. Despite his urge to run, he forced himself to be cautious. Rain obscured the pipe. He looped the rope over it and pulled, again testing. Designed for mountain climbing, the rope had a standard length of 150 feet, reduced now to 75 because it was doubled. Although thin and lightweight, it was exceptionally strong, its polyester sheath protecting a core of silk fibers.
Earlier, Rick had questioned him about his familiarity with heights and rope. Needing an innocent explanation, Balenger had responded that he was a rock climber. In truth, he knew about heights and rope because of his Ranger training. He knotted the rope about four feet from its tips. The knot would warn him when he was almost at the end. He dropped the doubled rope off the roof. Straddling it, he pulled it up behind him, over his right hip. He looped it across his chest, over his left shoulder, and down his back, making sure the rope was cushioned by his jacket and wouldn't cut into his neck. He used his left hand to grip the forward part of the rope while his right gripped the section behind and below him. The arrangement allowed his body to act as a brake.