light up, one after the other: 16 ... 17 ... 18 ... 19 ... 20....
'Someone's coming,' Graham said.
A chill passed down her spine.
' 25 ... 26 ... 27....
Maybe it's the security guards,' she said.
He said nothing.
She wanted to turn and run, but she could not move. The -numbers
mesmerized her.
... 30 ... 31 ... 32....
She thought of women lying in bloody bedclothes, women with their
throats cut and their fingers chopped off and their ears cut off ...
33....
'The stairs!' Graham said, startling her.
'Stairs?'
'The emergency stairs.'
... 34....
'What about them?'
'We've got to go down.'
'Hide out a few floors below?'
... 35....
'No. All the way down to the lobby.'
'That's too far!'
'That's where there's help.'
... 36....
'Maybe we don't need help.'
'We need it,' he said.
... 37....
'But your leg-'
'I'm not a complete cripple,' he said sharply.
... 38....
He grabbed her by the shoulder. His fingers hurt her, but she knew he
wasn't aware of how fiercely he was gripping her. 'Come on, Connie!'
... 39....
Frustrated with her hesitation, he gave her a shove, propelled her out
of the alcove. She stumbled, and for an instant she thought she would
fall. He kept her upright.
As they hurried down the dark corridor, she heard the elevator doors
open behind them.
When Bollinger came out of the elevator alcove he saw two people running
away from him. They -ere nothing but ghostly shapes, vaguely
silhouetted against the eerie glow of the red emergency light at the end
of the corridor.
Harris and the woman? he wondered. Have they been alerted? Do they
know who I am? How can they know?
'Mr. Harris?' Bollinger called.
They stopped two-thirds of the way down the hall, in front of the open
door to the Harris Publications suite. They turned toward him, but he
could not see their faces even with the red light spilling over their
shoulders.
