The Face Of Fear Part 22

"I can't climb it."

"It's not a climb."

"What?"

"It's a descent."

"Doesn't matter."

"Can it be done?"

"Not by me."

"You climbed the ladder in the shaft."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Besides, you've never climbed."

"You can teach me."

"No."

"Sure you can."

"You can't learn on'the sheer face of a forty-story building in the middle of a blizzard."

"I'd have a d.a.m.ned good teacher," she said.

"Oh, yeah. One who hasn't climbed in five years."

"You still know how. You haven't forgotten."

"I'm out of shape."

"You're a strong man."

"You forget my leg."

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 d.a.m.ned 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."

"An hour. Maybe two hours."

"That long?"

"You're a novice."

"Couldn't we rappel?"

"Rappel?" He was appalled.

"It looks so easy. Swinging out and back, dropping a few feet with every swing, bouncing off the stone, dancing along the side of the building..."

"It looks easy, but it isn't."

"But it's fast."

"Jesus! You've never climbed before, and you want to rappel down."

"I've got guts."

"But no common sense."

"Okay," she said. "We don't rappel."

"We definitely don't rappel."

"We go slow and easy."

"We don't go at all."

Ignoring him, she said, "I can take two hours of the cold. I know I can. And if we keep moving, maybe it won't bother us so much."

"We'll freeze to death." He refused to be shaken from that opinion.

"Graham, we have a simple choice. Go or stay. If we make the climb, maybe we'll fall or freeze to death. If we stay here, we'll sure as h.e.l.l be killed."

"I'm not convinced it is that simple."

"Yes, you are."

He closed his eyes. He was furious with himself, sick of his inability to accept unpleasant realities, to risk pain, and to come face to face with his own fear. The climb would be dangerous. Supremely dangerous. It might even prove to be sheer folly; they could die in the first few minutes of the descent. But she was correct when she said they had no choice but to try it. they could die in the first few minutes of the descent. But she was correct when she said they had no choice but to try it.

"Graham? We're wasting time."

"You know the real reason why the climb isn't possible."

"No," she said. "Tell me."

He felt color and warmth come into his face. "Connie, you aren't leaving me with any dignity."

"I never took that from you. You've taken it from yourself." Her lovely face was lined with sorrow. He could see that it hurt her to have to speak to him so bluntly. She came across the room, put one hand to his face. "You've surrendered your dignity and your self-respect. Piece by piece." Her voice was low, almost a whisper; it wavered. "I'm afraid for you, afraid that if you don't stop throwing it away, you'll have nothing left. Nothing." it wavered. "I'm afraid for you, afraid that if you don't stop throwing it away, you'll have nothing left. Nothing."

"Connie ..." He wanted to cry. But he had no tears for Graham Harris. He knew precisely what he had done to himself. He had no pity; he despised the man he'd become. He felt that, deep inside, he had always been a coward, and that his fall on Mount Everest had given him an excuse to retreat into fear. Why else had he resisted going to a psychiatrist? Every one of his doctors had suggested psychoa.n.a.lysis. He suspected that he was comfortable in his fear he despised the man he'd become. He felt that, deep inside, he had always been a coward, and that his fall on Mount Everest had given him an excuse to retreat into fear. Why else had he resisted going to a psychiatrist? Every one of his doctors had suggested psychoa.n.a.lysis. He suspected that he was comfortable in his fear; and that possibility sickened him. "I'm afraid of my own shadow. I'd be no good to you out there." and that possibility sickened him. "I'm afraid of my own shadow. I'd be no good to you out there."

"You're not so frightened today as you were yesterday," she said tenderly. "Tonight, you've coped d.a.m.ned well. What about the elevator shaft? This morning, the thought of going down that ladder would have overwhelmed you."

He was trembling.

"This is your chance," she said. "You can overcome the fear. I know you can."

He licked his lips nervously. He went to the pile of gear in front of the photographic backdrop. "I wish I could be half as sure of me as you are."

Following him, she said, "I understand what I'm asking of you. I know it'll be the hardest thing you've ever done."

He remembered the fall vividly. He could close his eyes any time-even in a crowded room-and experience it again: his foot slipping, pain in the chest as the safety harness tightened around him, pain abruptly relieved as the rope snapped, breath caught like an un-chewed lump of meat in his throat, then floating and floating and floating. The fall was only three hundred feet, and it had ended in a thick cus.h.i.+on of snow; it had seemed a mile. it had seemed a mile.

She said, "If you stay here, you'll die; but it'll be an easier death. The instant Bollinger sees you, he'll shoot to kill. He won't hesitate. It'll be over within a second for you." She took hold of his hand. "But it won't be like that for me." but it'll be an easier death. The instant Bollinger sees you, he'll shoot to kill. He won't hesitate. It'll be over within a second for you." She took hold of his hand. "But it won't be like that for me."

He looked up from the equipment. Her gray eyes radiated a fear as primal and paralyzing as his own.

"Bollinger will use me," she said.

He was unable to speak.

"He'll cut me," she said.

Unbidden, an image of Edna Mowry came to him. She had been holding her own b.l.o.o.d.y navel in her hand.

"He'll disfigure me."