Grimacing, he planted his feet on the inside of the H-beam, his heel against the ground and toes to the steel. Then he grabbed the outside of the girder, arched his back to increase the tension, and started to climb.
He made it head high. Then he leaned in too far and lost his balance. His feet flailed wildly, and he slid down the steel, fingers burning. He landed hard, shocks jolting through his knees, and fought the urge to curse.
This is crazy.
The building swayed when he looked up, and his stomach flipped. The top floor seemed an impossible dream.
Whatever the cost.
He took a deep breath, planted his feet, and started again. Push with the sole of the feet. Grip with the fingers. The posture is key – use your waist as a pivot, and only your waist. Don’t let any other part bend, or your feet will slip. The traction is good. The steel is rough as sandpaper. Don’t listen to your body’s fear. Let your mind drive the flesh. Move your hand.
Pull.
Now a foot. Push.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The first floor fell away, but he didn’t notice. He forced everything else out of his mind, the world narrowing to his hands and feet and the steel. Slide. Pull. Again. In the darkness, he could see patterns in the metal, clown faces and leering spirits. The girder shielded him from a gust of wind that set the tarps snapping in a lunatic dance. Sweat ran slick from his armpit. The muscles of his stomach burned. Slide. Pull. Again.
The second floor.
The third. Don’t look down.
At the fourth, he looked down. His throat shut, and his heart and stomach tugged in different directions. The world wavered, and for a terrible half second he was overwhelmed by an urge to let go. To jump, and fall spinning to the ground. The true meaning of vertigo – not the fear of falling, but the hunger for it. His muscles trembled. He could picture the ground rushing up, the comfort of oblivion. A warm and quiet place.
He sucked in his lower lip and bit until he tasted blood.
The pain clarified. Reestablished focus. He stared at the beam as though it held all the mysteries of life. Slowly, fingers tingling and arms shaking, he forced his right hand to move. Pushed with both feet. A tiny bit at a time. There is no up. There is no down. There is no Evan. There is no you. There is only this.
Again.
Again.
Again. Whatever the cost.
And then his hand bumped into something. A crossbeam. He’d reached the top floor. He edged his legs up twice more, until his arms were almost horizontal. Guts roiling, he slid his right hand off the girder and onto the beam. The instant the tension released, his legs swung free, kicking out over fifty feet of nothing. He felt a hot flush of panic in his bowels as he dangled by one hand. His shoulder screamed and his sweaty fingers slowly began to slip.
He flung his other arm up, fumbling for the horizontal strut. His right hand began to lose its grip, the ragged steel cutting into his fingers. For a moment he hung there, left hand on the way up while right fought not to come down. Some removed part of himself wondered which would happen first. Then his left banged against the metal, fingers locking on. With a last surge of strength he hauled himself up onto his belly and rolled his legs off the edge. He lay panting on his side, fingers stiff and brittle, arms on fire, chest heaving.
He’d made it.
Then he heard Evan’s voice.
45
“Stop there.” Evan’s voice was commanding.
Danny’s limbs shook and burned, but he made himself keep moving. Legs wobbling and head spinning, he forced himself to his feet, scanning for Evan. The top floor lacked a roof, though vertical girders ascended to mark its future location. City light bouncing off the clouds gave the space a soft silver glow. Near the stairwell, he could see the bound figures of Tommy and Karen. Wherever Evan was, his profile should have been clear against the bright sky, but Danny saw nothing.
“Under the light there. Lift your jacket and turn around.” Evan’s voice again, still loud. But also muffled. Then it clicked. Evan wasn’t shouting at him. He was on the lower floor, yelling instructions. Richard must have arrived while Danny was focusing on the climb.
Moving as quickly as he dared, Danny stepped to the edge of the building and looked down. A tingle shivered his calves as he peered cautiously over the edge. The Range Rover sat inside the gate, exhaust steaming white from the tailpipe. Ten feet from it, Richard stood illuminated by a streetlight, one hand holding the duffel bag, the other pulling up his jacket as he spun around.
Danny cursed silently. The climb had taken longer than he’d thought. He’d hoped to rest for a few minutes and let his muscles recover, but now he had to move. He jogged to where Tommy and Karen knelt, their arms stretched up and tied over the stairwell railing. They struggled as he approached.
“Shhhh.” He put one finger to his lips, the other hand digging for the mini-Swiss Army knife on his key ring. He pulled the duct tape off Karen’s mouth and cut the bindings on her hands. She threw her arms around him, body shaking, tears running down her face.
It was the best he’d felt in he couldn’t remember how long. But there wasn’t time. He extricated himself, locking eyes and smiling at her. Then he turned to the boy.
“Tommy, I’m with your father. We’re going to get you out of here. But you have to be quiet. Understand?”
The boy’s eyes were huge in the moonlight. He nodded quickly, and Danny cut his bindings.
Below them, the yell sounded again. “Good boy, Dick.” Evan amused, firmly in control. “Come on up.”
When the building was finished, there would be escape stairs at each end, but right now, only the central set beside the empty elevator shaft was in place. No telling for sure where Evan was. But Danny had seen his lighter flare on the third floor, near the stairs. Was there a different way he could get the others down? He glanced around frantically. Karen spent three mornings a week at the gym, and might be able to return the way he’d come up; heading down would be easier, just a matter of controlling the slide. But Tommy? A rope, or a cable, some way of lowering him… But the site had been cleared for winter, and he knew there was nothing to find.
“Okay,” he whispered, “here’s the plan. We’re going down these stairs. Be as quiet as you can. I’ll go a little bit ahead. Karen, you take Tommy all the way down.” He tried to put in his eyes all the things he couldn’t say in front of the boy. “Get in Richard’s truck and get out of here.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have to get off on the third floor.”
“Why?”
He kept his gaze steady. “To help Richard.”
She shook her head, alarm in her eyes. “That’s crazy.”
“It’s the only way. It’ll be two on one, and Evan doesn’t know I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Karen.” He smiled at her, made a tiny motion toward Tommy with his eyes. She had to understand. “Please.”
Her lips trembled, and she looked away. Slowly, she nodded. He leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were cold but her tongue was warm and sweet. One for the road.
And in that moment, he realized that he didn’t expect to get out of this.
Did it matter?
Breaking the kiss, he put a hand to her cheek, cupping her face. A bedroom tenderness they’d shared a thousand times.