Deadly Justice (12 page)

“Boy, just look at him,” Herb whispered to Ben. “He says march and just assumes everyone will march. Doesn’t even look behind to see if we’re following. How arrogant.”

“Still stinging from last night, Herb?”

“I don’t like my career being threatened.”

Ben nodded. He saw Rob marching alongside. “Have you ever done this before?” Ben asked.

“Oh, sure,” Rob replied.

“And?”

“Not to worry. Piece of cake. You’ll do fine. Unless, of course, you have a problem with heights.”

“A problem with heights?” Ben whispered. “I’m
terrified
of heights. I can’t ride an escalator without getting sick. I had a panic attack once in a stairwell!”

“In that case, I predict you’re in big trouble.”

They descended into the valley. The trees formed an almost perfect circle, closing off the central meadow. Ben saw various wires and poles stretching between trees about sixty feet up in the air, and something that looked like a gigantic ladder hanging almost to me ground.

“Surely we’re not going up where all those wires and other gizmos are?” Ben asked nervously.

Rob smiled, but didn’t answer.

“This is the High Course,” Crichton announced, for the benefit of those who hadn’t managed to figure it out for themselves. “The general principles of belaying should be clear to you from yesterday’s exercises. Remember, you must overcome that me-against-them mentality. Teamwork is critical. One partner, the captain, remains on the ground, holding tight to your belay line. The line reaches up to the high wire, cycles through the wheel lock for support, then descends to me carabiner on your Swiss seat. It’s like a gigantic pulley system. As long as you’re harnessed to the line, and your captain doesn’t let go, you’re perfectly safe, whether you’re sixty feet in the air or six hundred feet in the air.”

“But what if you’re afraid of heights?” Ben asked quietly.

“Get over it.” Crichton walked to the large wood-and-wire ladder and pointed like a game show model. “This is the giant’s ladder. It is the initial means of assault. Standing on this tree stump, you grab the bottom rung of the ladder.” Crichton demonstrated, looping his hands around the four-by-four wooden plank he called the bottom rung. Then, leaping into the air, he swung his legs around the plank and pulled himself on top. Balancing himself by one of the two wires connecting the planks, he pulled himself upright. “Easy, isn’t it? And all you have to do is repeat that nine more times, and you’ll be sixty feet in the air.”

“Nine more times?” Ben felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. “I don’t think I could do that once.”

“If you simply can’t pull yourself up by your arms,” Crichton said, narrating as he climbed, “you can brace one foot against the connecting bolts on the wires. But that’s strictly for wimps and over-seventies.”

Ben grimaced. “Seventy months, I hope he means.”

Christina smiled. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m never gonna make it up that thing.”

“I’m inclined to agree. By the way, Ben, have I mentioned recently what a brilliant idea this new job was?”

“Cheap, Christina. Very cheap.”

At the top of the giant’s ladder, Crichton pulled himself upright between two taut wires and sidestepped to a nearby tree. Crawling sideways down the tree, he lowered himself onto a small wooden ledge. “From here you can attack the Burma bridge. Three ropes stretched between two trees—the simplest bridge known to man—yet perfectly effective. If you have the strength to make the crossing. Remember, push out with your arms against the two higher ropes, and step toe-to-toe on the low rope.”

“I’ll remember,” Ben murmured. “I’ll remember.”

“After you cross the Burma bridge, the next step is to walk across a telephone pole connecting one tree to another. A simple balancing trick. If it were on the ground, it would be easy. Sixty feet in the air, less so.” He smiled at his own witticism.

“The final step is the easiest of all—two wires, one high, one low. Hold one with your hands, keep your feet on the other. Sidestep from tree to tree. If you don’t lose your balance, you’ll do fine. If you do lose your balance, well, we’ll get to see if your captain is paying attention.”

“What a humorist. Regular Mark Twain.” Ben looked grimly at Christina. “I think I’m sick already.”

“Finally,” Crichton announced, “you descend on the zip line, a pulley and wire slingshot, if you will. Detach your carabiner from the support wire and attach it to me zip line. Crawl onto the seat and push. You’ll be on the ground in a heartbeat. Better than a roller coaster.”

“Assuming your heart doesn’t stop,” Ben said.

Christina jabbed him in the side.

“All right, then. Pair off into teams of two and let’s begin your assault. I’ll take volunteers.”

“Well, Ben,” Christina said, “wanna be my proactive partner?”

“Sorry, no. I’m taking Rob.”

“You like him better man me?”

“No, but he’s a hell of a lot stronger, and that’s the principal quality I’m looking for in the person who’s going to be holding onto the end of my belay line.”

Four hours later, most of me Apollo legal staff had confronted me High Course. Christina had finished in a fearless forty minutes, putting her in third place for speed, behind Rob and Chuck. Some were graceful; some were graceless. Some had struggled, strained, wobbled, and weaved. But all of them had finished.

Except Ben. He hadn’t even started.

“C’mon Kincaid,” Crichton growled. He hunched over Ben’s shoulder and whispered insistently into his ear. “Look, kid, you know you’re my favorite, but I can’t go on making excuses for you. Candice is almost finished, and she’s the last one. You’re going to have to try to get through this thing.”

“Couldn’t I just not—and say I did?”

“No way, Kincaid. I can’t make exceptions. Especially not for my favorites. It wouldn’t look right.”

“What if we build another high course, just like this one, only connected to the ground?”

“I’m afraid not. C’mon—that legal assistant of yours finished in nothing flat.”

“Christina can do a lot of things I can’t, including all things that take place sixty feet off the ground.”

“Damn it, Kincaid, you’re being a pussy!”

“Sticks and stones…”

“There are no wimps on the Apollo legal team.”

“Probably because they’ve all been killed off by the High Course.”

“Look, Kincaid, I’m going up again. You can follow right behind me. I’ll be with you the whole time, just a few steps ahead. Okay?”

Before Ben could reply, a bloodcurdling scream pierced through the air.

Ben turned toward the sound. “Whaa—?”

“It’s Candice,” someone yelled. The group ran en masse toward the point of descent from the High Course.

By the time they arrived, Candice was unstrapping herself from the zip line.

“What happened?” Ben asked. “We heard you scream.”

“It was exhilarating,” Candice said. “Shooting down the zip line, I mean. The wind whipping through your hair, bracing your face.” She shimmied from head to toe. “What a turn-on.”

“Probably the closest you’ve come to orgasm in months,” Herb commented, just loud enough that everyone could hear.

“Probably closer than you’ve come in your entire life,” Candice retorted, “unless you count the nights you’ve spent alone.”

Ben was content to stay and enjoy the repartee, but unfortunately Crichton’s hands clamped down on his shoulders. “It’s time, Kincaid.”

“No last-minute reprieve from the governor?”

Crichton shook his head no. Rob fell in behind them and they returned to the entry stump for the giant’s ladder.

“Just keep your eyes on me, Kincaid. Don’t look down at the ground. Watch me.”

“Got it.” Ben watched as Crichton leapt onto the first rung of the giant’s ladder, this time without even standing on the stump. Less than five minutes later, Crichton was standing between the two wires at the top.

“Now it’s your turn, Kincaid.”

“Swell.” Ben stood on the stump and closed his eyes. “Are you holding tight to that line, Rob?”

“Of course I am.”

“Just checking.” Ben threw his arms back and jumped up as high as he could. Too high. His arms wrapped around the bottom rung, and a second after, his chin banged down on it, but hard.

“Oww!”

“Don’t let go,” Crichton shouted down. “Never turn back. Never lose ground.”

Right. Twisting with all his strength, Ben brought himself right side up. Slowly, he stood upright on the narrow beam. To his dismay, he found it wasn’t solid footing at all. The entire ladder swayed back and forth in the wind.

“Don’t stop,” Crichton shouted. “Don’t lose your momentum. And don’t look down.”

Cut me some slack, Ben thought. I’m only six feet in the air. He opened his eyes and looked down.

Big mistake. The bottom seemed to drop out of his stomach. Worse, he looked up at Crichton and saw how far he had yet to go. He felt himself dizzying. What a great time to be sick, he thought. When your entire office is watching and you’re dangling in the middle of the air.

“I’m going to start on the Burma bridge,” Crichton yelled. “Keep going.”

Thanks, I will. Ben threw his arms up…and missed the next rung entirely. He clutched the side wire desperately, swinging the entire ladder back and forth like a pendulum. He could feel the tug of the belay line at his back; Rob was pulling the rope super-taut, trying to keep him from falling. Thanks for the assist, pal.

The hell with it. Let Crichton call him a wimp—he was cheating. Ben placed his foot on the connecting bolt on the wire closest to him and boosted himself up. From that point, he was able to grab the next rung.

“Holy—!”

What was that? Ben became aware of a great commotion on the ground; everyone was staring at the Burma bridge and pointing. Ben peered up into the sun. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he saw a silhouetted Crichton waving his arms, flailing in midair about forty feet above him and four or five feet to one side.

Ben squinted. Crichton appeared to have lost his balance and slipped off the wooden ledge that led to the Burma bridge. Crichton tried to grab the tree, but it was out of his reach. Fortunately, this was the difference between belayers and tightrope walkers; his belay line held him tight. So what was everyone screaming about?

Ben traced Crichton’s belay line from his carabiner through the wheel lock and back down toward—
My God!
That’s what everyone was screaming about. There was a split in Crichton’s belay line. The sun glinted off a ragged tear. It looked as if it would rip clean through at any moment. And when it did, Crichton would be severed from his belay captain and all means of support.

Crichton had seen the tear, too. He was desperately trying to swing himself back to the tree, but making no progress. He was too far away. He was dangling in the air, helpless. And fully aware that he was about to plunge sixty feet to the hard earth.

Ben saw the rope split even further. He knew that in a matter of seconds it would be too late; Crichton’s weight was tearing the line apart. If someone didn’t secure his line fast, Crichton was a dead man.

Ben tensed his muscles, threw his arms back, and leaped off the giant’s ladder. He flew through open space, arms extended, and grabbed Crichton’s belay line just above the tear. A second later, the rope ripped in two. Once severed, the rope ricocheted upward like a rock from a slingshot. Ben held tight, and the rope rocketed him into the sky.

Ben shot toward the apex of the belay pulley. The rope burned in his hands. It hurt like hell, but he held fast.
Come on
,
Rob!

Suddenly, he felt a wrenching jerk on his back. Rob had tightened Ben’s belay line to keep him from flying over the top, and since Ben was holding tight to Crichton’s line, that stopped Crichton’s descent before he splatted into the dirt.

Ben gritted his teeth and clenched the rope tightly. The strain on his arms was incredible; Crichton felt as though he weighed a thousand pounds. Now that Ben had a moment to think about what he was doing, a rush of panic spread through his body. His pulse was out of control; he was dripping with sweat. He was dangling in the air, for God’s sake! With nothing solid under his feet whatsoever. Sixty feet off the—

Ben slowly opened his eyes, one eye at a time. Rob was shouting at him, telling him to hold tight while he lowered them both to the ground. Thanks, Rob—as if I was considering just letting go. Ben only hoped he could delay being sick until his feet were planted on terra firma once again.

Earthward, he saw Rob fighting with all his strength to hold onto the line. Chuck and Christina were clutching Rob’s feet, anchoring him to the ground. Ben’s eyes followed the line burning in his hands, through the wheel lock, then down to Crichton, who was hovering just above the ground.

Another three feet and he would have been dead.

T
HE MAN TOSSED HIS
van keys on the dresser beside the room key. It was one of those modern hotel keys, a flat card with punched holes like Swiss cheese. All the best places used them now. He hated them; he could never make them work without cramming them into the door scanner twenty or thirty times. Why did the world have to change? Why were people always looking for something better, tossing away the old, embracing the new? Why couldn’t everything remain simple, tidy, constant?

He saw the girl’s reflection in the mirror over the dresser. She was in the bathroom. The water in the tub was running, and she was sliding out of her skintight fluorescent green pants. It must be winter, he mused; the snake was shedding her skin.

The girl pulled off her halter top and removed a blue butterfly clip from her hair. She saw him watching her. “What are you doing?”

He smiled—a brilliant, friendly smile. “Watching you.”

“Oh yeah?” She crossed her arms over her breasts in mock modesty. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re beautiful.” He walked slowly into the bathroom. His black boots clickety-clacked against the tile floor. “You’re making me hard.”

“Hey now, don’t start getting all excited. You have to wait.”