Takashi’s private lift, making the other the maintenance access to what he took to be a machine floor above the penthouse. He got his bearings and set out for the latter.
This shaft turned out to be narrower than the others. The car, out of sight somewhere below, would hold three or four people at most. The cables were stationary, which was a relief – he could use the girders forming the shaft’s framework to climb up the remaining six floors. Or, a thought striking him, seven floors. If he went to the machine level rather than the penthouse, there would be far less chance of being spotted by surveillance cameras or tripping an alarm, and there could be air vents or access hatches that would allow him to pick the best entry point.
Seven floors it was, then. He carefully clambered over the guardrail and edged across a girder until he reached one of the vertical struts, then started his ascent. It took less than half a minute to reach the next floor. Six to go. The next stage took the same amount of time, the third a little longer as his body began to feel the strain. It wasn’t the climb itself that was wearing, but the effort of maintaining a grip on the featureless steel. Only the pressure of his hands and feet kept him from a very long plunge.
Three floors to go, and he paused to let the aching in his muscles fade. He took out the torch and shone it upwards. There were the doors to the penthouse . . . which had extra wiring around them. Alarms. Going the extra floor to the machine level was the right decision.
He set off again. Grip the strut, push his feet against it for support, bring up his hands one at a time, hold tight, raise his feet, repeat. The cramp in his hands returned—
An echoing metallic clack from below, the grumble of machinery building up speed . . . and the cables started to move.
The elevator was rising.
Shit! He looked down, seeing the tiny pinprick lights going out one by one as the car blotted them out. It was maybe twenty floors below him – and picking up speed.
He was halfway between levels. There was no way he could climb up to the next before it reached him, but if he dropped back down, the slightest mistake would pitch him down the shaft.
No choice. He swung sideways, let go, fell—
The drop was about eight feet, on to unyielding, narrow steel. Even bending his legs to absorb the impact, Eddie still felt pain slam up through his feet into his knees and hips. He wobbled, grabbing at the strut as he pivoted to push himself back against the wall . . .
One foot slipped.
Fear shot through him. He clawed at the metal frame, fingertips desperately searching for purchase on the bare steel—
And finding a dent where it had been banged against a neighbour during construction. He rasped his nails against the imperfection, finding just enough grip to steady himself.
Both feet back on the girder, but now the car was only a couple of floors below, and still racing upwards . . .
Eddie straightened and flattened himself against the wall just as the elevator reached him. He sucked in his stomach and held his breath, head turned sideways as it passed. There was so little clearance that his shirt buttons rasped against its side. Then it was past, decelerating sharply to stop at the forty-ninth floor. The clattering cables fell still.
He let out a gasp of relief, tempered with frustration. The car now blocked his path. All he could do was wait and hope that whoever was using it wasn’t settling in for a long night shift.
Fortunately, it took only half a minute before another clack of brakes being released warned him that the elevator was about to move again. He squashed himself against the wall once more, wincing as the car scythed back past him – this time actually tearing off a button. It could have been worse, he decided: it might have lopped off a nipple, or an even more important protuberance lower down his body. Suppressing a shudder, he waited until the elevator was safely distant before gathering himself and resuming his ascent.
Fiftieth floor, a brief rest . . . then on to the top.
He climbed to the doors, shining his torch over them. No alarms that he could see. A closer look revealed a locking bar;