She turned away from the window and went back to the door so that she
could listen for Bollinger while she talked. 'Remember when Abercrombie
and Fitch had a man scale their building to advertise a new line of
climbing equipment?'
He didn't look away from the window. He was transfixed by the night.
'What about it?'
'At that time, you said what that man did wasn't really so difficult.'
'Did I?'
'You said a building, with all its ledges and setbacks, is an easy climb
compared to almost any mountain.'
He said nothing. He remembered telling her that, and he knew he had
been right. But when he'd said it he never thought he'd be called upon
to do it. Images of Mount Everest and of hospital rooms filled his
mind.
'This equipment you chose for the buyer's guide-'
'What about it?'
'It's the best, isn't it?'
'The best, or close to it.'
'We'd be perfectly outfitted.'
'if we try it, we'll die.'
'We'll die if we stay here.' 'Maybe not.'
'I think so. Absolutely.'
'There has to be an alternative.'
'I've outlined them already.'
'Maybe we can hide from him.'
'Where?'
'I don't know. But-'
'And we can't hide for seven hours.'
'This is crazy, dammit!'
'Can you think of anything better?'
'Give me time.'
'Bollinger will be here any minute.'
'The wind speed must be forty miles an hour at street level. At least
when it's gusting. Fifty miles an hour up this high.'
'Will it blow us off?'
'We'd have to fight it every inch.'
'Won't we anchor the ropes?'
He turned away from the window. 'Yes, but-'
'And won't we be wearing those?' She pointed to a pair of safety
harnesses that lay atop the pile of equipment.
'It'll be damned cold out there, Connie.'
'We've got the down-lined jackets.'
'But we don't have quilted, insulated pants. You're wearing ordinary
jeans. So am I. For all the good they'll do us, we might as well be
naked below the waist.'
'I can stand the cold.'
'Not for very long. Not cold as bitter as that.'
'How long will it take us to get to the street?'
'I don't know.'
'You must have some idea.'
