“All right,” he said finally, “that’s one for each of us. Last try, and this time we’ve got to make it good.”
Burleigh leaned into the hole again, Douglas -holding onto his legs.
The man was a helluva lot stronger than he had thought at first; he was probably really suffering from the cold, too-with absolutely no complaining.
Again, Burleigh brought the open latch of the splice around the cable. The going was slow as he tightened the bolt and once more the wrench almost slipped from his grip. Finally the teeth bit tightly into the cable. He then estimated where he was going to cut it and wrapped the cable on each side of the projected cut with steel wire he had brought along, using the wrench to tighten the tourniquet of steel around the bundle of wires that made up the cable.
Then he yelled, “Feed me the ‘copter cable!”
Douglas loosened one hand for an instant and a second later the ‘copter cable snaked down past Burleigh’s face.
This was the difficult part, he thought: The cable had to be threaded through the other end of the splice which didn’t open. The cable was cold and writhed in his hand; he could even feel the vibration of the ‘copters motor through it. They had given him enough slack so the bucking Sikorsky in the heavy gusts of wind didn’t give him too much trouble. He found the end of the cable and after two false starts succeeded in threading it in a “U” through the other end of the splice.
After that, he wrenched down the second bolt until it bit into the ‘copter cable.
He pulled himself back onto the roof, smiled triumphantly at Douglas, and took out his walky-talky again.
“Okay, take it up slowly-very slowly, just enough to take up the slack.” He waited until the cable drew taut. “Okay, that’s it.
Hold-it there. When I cut it loose, we don’t want the damned thing to drop too far.”
He slipped on a pair of safety goggles, picked up one of the solid propellant torches and yelled at Douglas, “This is dangerous-stand back a little.” He pulled the safety pin and then the igniter wire, aiming the nozzle out into the night. The torch took fire with a swoosh and jetted out a burst of flame for a foot. The flame sparkled with burning aluminum power while a heavy white cloud boiled from the jet.
Burleigh moved around the shaft opening so he could get at the one cable that had not been spliced. The flame slowly cut through it in a violent shower of sparks. When the cable parted, the snapping sounded like a firecracker going off. Even with the wire sizing wrapped around them, several strands of the cable popped loose and whipped about like striking snakes.
The cutting of the last cable was easier. The metal strands glowed red, then white, and finally erupted in a shower of sparks. The metal sagged for an instant and then he was through.
Above him, the ‘copter cable sang under the tension.
Burleigh pulled himself back and spoke into the hand radio again.
“It’s snug down here, start winching it up.
When I give you the word that you’re clear, move out and up.
Whatever you do, don’t let the cage bang against the building.”
He motioned Douglas back onto the center of the roof -no point in both of them being in danger. The Sikorsky was winching the cage up now, sliding it along the face of the utility wall. They had some three hundred feet to go and progress was slow. Now he could hear the distant scraping. It sounded closer, then finally very close. He glanced over the edge of the building and could see the top of the cage approaching the floor below. That would ordinarily be the limit of its travel.
He flicked on the walky-talky again. “Okay, swing it out now.”
He walked back to the middle of the roof where Douglas was standing.
The Sikorsky was rising and moving slowly away from the building.
Suddenly the elevator cage was in the clear, swaying back and forth in the wind and finally settling into a gentle oscillation as the cable shortened still more.
“You’re on your own,” Burleigh told the pilot and signaled with the flashlight. The Sikorsky rotated and started the long descent, lowering the elevator cage to the roof near a U.H-1 that had just landed.
Douglas was suddenly laughing and pounding Burleigh on the shoulder.
“Well, what do you know,” Burleigh said, suddenly aware of the sweat oozing from under his arms. “We did it.”
“You didn’t think you would?”
“Mister, that’s something I’ll never tell anyone, not even on my deathbed.” Burleigh said fervently. He started running toward the elevator cage. “Come on, we’ve got to get those people out of there!”
CHAPTER 68
It was quiet in the darkness of the elevator cage, except for the sounds of one person sobbing. It was a full minute before Leroux realized that it was a man crying-the same heavy-set man who had been so belligerent a few moments before. He shivered; outside the snow and sleet spattered against the glass walls of the elevator and he could feel the cold penetrate his thin tuxedo. Somebody was pressing up against him and he knew by the faint fragrance of her perfume that it was Thelma.
“What wig happen, Wyn?”
He hugged her gently and kissed her on the ear. “I don’t know-just hang,here for a while, I guess.”
Thelma lowered her voice. “We don’t stand much of a chance, do we?
He let just the ‘right note of annoyance creep into his voice. “I know what the cables can take, Thelma. if I thought we were going to drop, I wouldn’t have tried to reassure people. Everybody should have a chance to make their peace with God without any kibitzing from me.”
He could feel her relax and thought to himself that the Almighty would forgive him that one white lie. She was absolutely right; they didn’t stand much of a chance.
The heavy winds suddenly caught the cage and swung it away from the building a short distance, then let it swing back against the concrete wall behind him. The cage twisted on its cables as it did so and crashed slightly askew.
One of the glass side walls cracked and a woman standing near him was thrown off her feet, her cry lost in a sudden burst of screaming.
Leroux tensed. The cage couldn’t take much of that, let alone the cables. There were only a few left.
“Listen!” somebody shouted. There was a sharp clatter from overhead and Leroux strained his eyes to peer out into the night.
Seconds later heavy debris fell past the glass walls.
Leroux wasn’t sure but it looked like aluminum sheeting and maybe thin angle iron. He was mystified for a moment, then suddenly remembered the scenic elevator’s housing far above. My God, if it was coming apart …
He suddenly felt Thelma’s grip on his arm. “What’s that, Wyn?”
Leroux cocked his head, then picked up the faint sounds. The distant chop, chop, chop above them.
Not one of the light helicopters he had seen a few minutes earlier, but probably a big mother, maybe a Sikorsky F-106 they had used to lift some of the heavier equipment up to the restaurant during construction.
Trust Barton to think of that. They’d probably try a cable splice and swing them up. He raised his voice.
“Everybody quiet and listen to me! They’ve brought in a sky-hook helicopter and I think they’re going to use it to pull us up. It’ll be bumpy and I’d suggest all of us lie down on the floor.”
“What the hell do you know?” the heavy-set man suddenly shouted.
“You haven’t guessed right on your building so far!
The other passengers had begun to ease themselves to the floor.
Somebody mumbled, “Watch your damned knee,” and finally they were all down except the heavy-set man who was still standing, braced against the one cracked glass wall.
“Get down!” Leroux -warned. “This cage’s going to crash into the wall a dozen times before they get us to the top.”
“Screw you,” the man said.
He couldn’t get to him, Leroux thought. He couldn’t force him down.
