Graham held the scissors by the closed blades. Using the heavy handles
as a hammer, he smashed the thin glass. A few pieces held stubbornly to
the frame. So as not to cut himself, he broke out the jagged splinters
before he put one hand into the shallow alarm box and jerked the steel
lever from green to red.
No noise.
No bells.
Silence.
Christ!
'Oh, no,' she said.
Frantically, the flame of hope flickering in him, he pushed the lever
up, back to the green safety mark, then slammed it down again.
Still nothing.
Bollinger had been as thorough with the fire alarm as he had been with
the telephones.
The wipers swept back and forth, clearing the snow from the windshield.
The rhythmic thump-thumptbump was getting on his nerves.
Billy glanced over his shoulder, through the rear window, at the green
garage door, then at the other three doors.
The time was 10: 15.
Where in the hell was Dwight?
Graham and Connie went to the magazine's art department in search of a
knife and other sharp draftsmen's tools that would make better weapons
than the scissors. He found a pair of razor-edged scalpel-like
instruments in the center drawer of the art director's big metal desk.
When he looked up from the drawer, he saw that Connie was lost in
thought. She was standing just inside the door, staring at the floor in
front of a light blue photographic backdrop. Climbing equipment-coils
of rope, pitons, etriers, carabiners, klettershoes, nylon jackets lined
with down, and perhaps thirty other items-lay in a disordered heap
before the screen.
'See what I found?' he said. He held up the blades.
She wasn't interested. 'What about this stuff?' she asked, pointing to
the climbing equipment.
Coming from behind the desk, he said, 'This issue we're running a
buyer's guide. Each of those pieces wis photographed for the article.
Why'd you ask?' Then his face brightened. 'Never mind. I see why.'
He hunkered in front of the equipment, picked up an ice ax. 'This makes
a better weapon than any draftsman's tool.
'Graham?'
He looked up.
Her expression was peculiar: a combination of puzzlement, fear and
amazement. Although she clearly had thought of something interesting
and important, her gray eyes gave no indication of what was going
through her mind. She said, 'Let's not rush out to fight him. Can we
consider all of our options?'
'That's why we're here.'
She stepped into the short, private hallway, cocked her head and
listened for Bollinger.
Graham stood up, prepared to use the ice ax.
