The second spool was meant for him. Barney alone weighed more than Frank and Maggie together, so they had decided to use two rappelling devices instead of the one originally suggested by Max.
Barney hadn’t made it to his spool. A blast shattered the reception room. The door flew off its hinges. The heavy filing cabinet barricading it leaned and exploded producing a fountain of paperwork. Clouds of smoke belched into the office. Maggie screamed and ducked in, covering her head. Barney slid the attaché case along the floor toward Frank, turned around and fell onto one knee. At that moment, the massive filing cabinet toppled onto the floor under powerful kicks from outside.
The first of the attackers fell full length onto the floor under Barney’s bullets. Another one followed him into the reception. In the smoke, return shots flashed over his shoulder. Barney snarled, lowered the barrel a little and peppered his attacker with bullet holes. The attacker stumbled, dropped his weapon and collapsed head first onto the capsized filing cabinet.
“Go!” Barney shouted.
“Dad!”
“Go!”
Frank held Maggie tight and climbed onto the window sill, kicking the remaining shards of glass out of the window frame. She was so light he didn’t need a cord to support her. But she was frightened now; she didn’t understand they had to escape while Barney could keep their attackers at bay. In his other hand, Frank held the attaché case. If the scared girl jerked or turned awkwardly during the descent, he risked dropping it. Then all their work and planning would be for nothing. Without the data from the disk, Frank wouldn’t prove anything to anyone.
“Go now!” Barney repeated. He reloaded and stepped forward, closer to the broken door.
“You ready?” Frank looked into Maggie’s face. Then he kicked the latch on the rubberized tube free, releasing the rollers’ braking ring.
“Close your eyes. Don’t look down,” he instructed her. He noticed the nail gun still hanging off her wrist but had no time to get rid of it.
Frank hugged the girl tight and stepped out into the void.
Chapter Thirteen. Rappelling into Hell
The open space around him took his breath away. All of Manhattan lay below. On the horizon, the ocean glistened under the clear blue skies. The sun blazed away, reflected by the upper stories’ windows.
The line was unwinding at five feet per second. Not too fast, but enough to reach the first floor in under three minutes without getting hurt when it finally stopped. After that, there were two scenarios available. They could either run across the flat roof of an adjacent T-shaped annex, then use the fire escape to get down to the street. Alternatively, they could go back into the building and use one of the elevators to reach the underground parking where Max was waiting in the limo. They didn’t have contact with him: portable radios didn’t reach the parking lot without a signal amplifier, but installing one in the building would have taken too much time and jeopardized the whole mission. Besides, Memoria’s security scanned all frequencies which allowed their workers to detect and blanket out all talks. That’s why Max was supposed to neutralize the guards and keep the parking exits and the cameras under control for an agreed length of time. In case of the others’ failure, he had to leave the building alone.
The rasping of metal against metal made Frank writhe around in order to look up. He didn’t see the end of the rubberized tube overhead. The line had slid off the roller and was now grating against a window ledge above. Frank’s shoulder grazed a buttress, turning him away from the building. He hit the back of his head against a window ledge. His jacket slid up and snapped apart. Between clinching Maggie and gripping the attaché case, he couldn’t kick himself away from the wall for fear of swinging back and smashing their own butts against the window ledges.
Their descent stopped.
They hung opposite a window, rotating on the end of the cord. Frank looked up wondering if the malfunction had triggered the emergency brake or the spool had simply jammed in the rollers.
Three stories above, Barney looked out of the broken window. The wind tore off his hat and blew it away.
“It’s jammed!” Frank shouted.
Barney disappeared. Shots followed.
“Dad!” Maggie screamed.
Frank looked down at her. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Let’s swing,” he held the attaché case with both hands, turned his face to the window and propped his feet against it. “Kick when I count to three. One — two — three!”
They kicked together. Maggie broke a stiletto heel.
They didn’t have enough momentum.
“Again! Bring your knees up!” Frank shouted. “Then use the nail gun!”
He kicked as hard as he could hoping that the side wind would take them a bit further away this time. Maggie raised the nail gun and pressed the trigger under the handle. With a clatter, nails hit the window covering it with a web of cracks.
They swung into the window. Frank held out the attaché case and shielded the girl with his body as best he could. In a shower of shattered glass, they burst inside.
His fingers bleeding, Frank undid the clasps and let go of the girl. He looked around.
“Where are we?” he grabbed her elbow helping her to get up. “Maggie? Do you know this room?”
A large desk with several intercoms on it stood in the middle, surrounded with chairs. Plasma screens covered the walls overhead.
“It’s the conference room.”
“You know how to get out of here?” Frank removed his battered jacket and the harness, listening for any sounds from above.
He couldn’t hear any shooting.
“You think we can reach the elevators without being noticed?”
“We’re trapped,” Maggie’s voice shook. She stood up clenching the nail gun with both hands. “The elevators are along the hallway to our right. To our left, the conference hall. It’s all packed out with security.”
“And if we leave through the conference hall?”
“There’s another staircase there.”
“Let’s go, then,” Frank pulled her hand.
Maggie kicked off her shoes. With one heel broken, they would only hinder their escape.
The door to the room began to open. Frank backed to the wall, covering Maggie. The door opened, concealing them in a narrow niche.
“There’s a broken window down here,” said a voice in the hallway. “I’m going in.”
First, a swaying gun barrel appeared, followed by the hand that held it. A well-built man entered the conference room. He held his left hand up to his face, reporting over the microphone in his sleeve.
A scream echoed from above. A body flashed past the window.
“Damn!” the agent backed up. “He’s fallen out! Someone’s fallen out the building!”
Maggie squeaked. Frank didn’t wait for the agent to turn round. He smashed the attaché case over his shoulder and kicked him in the hip, pushing the man to the desk. He ran out into the hallway, about to turn left, when he realized he’d done so too soon. Another security agent stood to his right. The gun in his hand jerked and banged.
Frank stuck out the attaché case to protect his ribs. One of the bullets tore through his shirt and stung his shoulder. The others clanged as they smashed into the attaché case’s steel lid without piercing it. Luckily, Frank stood with his side to the agent. His elbow joint snapped and his fingers let go of the attaché case handle. Frank released it and turned to face the gun.
His old street fighting skills saved him. He ducked under the gun and his left arm shot up, the fist hitting the opponent’s elbow. Frank stood up and leaned forward, butting the man upwards, his forehead breaking the bridge of the man’s nose.
The agent jerked. His eyes rolled and he fell backwards. Frank exhaled, his fingers feeling his shoulder and collarbone under the red spot spreading on his shirt. His awkward fingers tore the shirt open. Just a deep scratch.