lis THE FAM OF FEM 'Fur den Mord, ' Bollinger said. He squeezed off two
shots.
Upstairs, on the lobby floor, Bollinger opened the door directly across
the hall from the guards' room. He switched on the lights.
The narrow room was lined with telephone and power company equipment.
The ceiling and walls were unfinished concrete. Two bright red fire
extinguishers were hung where they could be reached quickly.
He went to the far side of the room, to a pair of yardsquare metal
cabinets that were fixed to the wall. The lid of each cabinet bore the
insignia of the telephone company. Although the destruction of the
contents would render useless all other routing boxes, switchboards and
backup systems, neither of the cabinets was locked. Each housed
twenty-six small levers, circuit breakers in a fuse box. They were all
inclined toward the 'on' mark. Bollinger switched them off, one by one.
He moved to a box labeled 'Fire Emergency,' forced it open, and tinkered
with the wires inside.
That done, he went to the guards' room across the hall. He stepped
around the bodies and picked up one of the two telephones that stood in
front of the closedcircuit television screens.
No dial tone.
He jiggled the cut-off spikes.
Still no dial tone.
He hung up, picked up the other phone: another dead line.
Whistling softly, Bollinger entered the first elevator.
There were two keyholes in the control panel. The top one opened the
panel for repairs. The one at the bottom shut down the lift mechanism.
He tried the keys that he had taken from the dead guard. The third one
fit the bottom lock.
He pushed the button for the fifth floor. The number didn't light; the
doors didn't close; the elevator didn't move.
Whistling louder than before, he proceeded to shut down fourteen of the
remaining fifteen elevators. He would use the last one to go to the
sixteenth floor, where Ott and MacDonald were working, and later to the
fortieth floor, where Harris and his woman were waiting.
Although Graham hadn't spoken, Connie knew that something was wrong. He
was breathing heavily. She looked up from her book and saw that he had
stopped working and was staring at empty air, his mouth slightly open,
his eyes sort of glazed. 'What's the matter?'
'Nothing.'
'You're pale.'
'Just a headache.'
'You're shaking.'
He said nothing.
She got up, put down her book, went to him. She sat on the corner of
his desk. 'Graham?'
'It's okay. I'm fine now.'
'No, you aren't.'
'I'm fine.'
'There for a minute you weren't.'
'For a minute I wasn't,' he agreed.
