that moment Billy spilled seed into her mouth. In the throes of an
intense orgasm, Bollinger had the odd notion that he and Billy had grown
incredibly inside of the girl, had swelled and lengthened until they
were touching at the center of her. Then he went one step further, lost
all awareness of the woman; so far as he was concerned, he and Billy
were the only people in the room. In his mind he saw them standing with
the tips of their organs pressed together, ejaculating into each other’s
penis. The image was powerful but strangely asexual. There was
certainly nothing homosexual about it.
Absolutely nothing. He wasn’t queer. He had no doubt about that.
None at all. The imaginary act that preoccupied him was similar to the
ritual by which members of certain American Indian tribes had once
become blood brothers. The Indians cut their hands and pressed the cuts
together; because they believed that the blood flowed from the body of
one into that of the other, they felt that they would be part of each
other forever. Bollinger’s bizarre vision was like the Indians’
bloodbrother ceremony. It was an oath, a most sacred bond.
And he knew that a metamorphosis had taken place; henceforth, they were
not two men but one.
Now, feeling incomplete without Billy beside him, he reached the
elevator cab and switched it on.
Connie clamhered through the window, onto the thirty-eighth-floor
setback.
Graham quickly tied the free end of the hundred foot main line to her
harness.
I “Ready?” she asked.
“Not quite.”
His hands were getting numb. His fingertips stung, and his knuckles
ached as if they were arthritic.
He tied carabiners to both ends of one of the five-foot pieces of rope
he had cut. He snapped both carabiners to a metal ring on her harness.
The rope between them looped all the way to her knees.
He clipped the hammer to the accessory strap on the waist belt of her
harness.
“What’s all this for?” she asked.
“The next setback is five stories down. Looks about half as wide as
this one. I’ll lower you the same way I got you here. I’ll be anchored
to the window post.”
He tugged on his own five-foot tether. “But we don’t have time to rig a
seventy-five-foot safety line for you. You’ll have to go on just a
single rope.”
She chewed her lower lip, nodded.
“As soon as you reach that ledge,” Graham said, “look for a narrow,
horizontal masonry seam between blocks of granite. The narrower the
better. But don’t waste too much time comparing cracks. Use the hammer
to pound in a piton.”
“This short rope you just hooked onto me: is that to be my safety line
when I get down there?”
“Yes. Unclip one end of it from your harness and snap the carabiner to
the piton. Make sure the sleeve is screwed over the gate.”
“Sleeve?”
He showed her what he meant. “As soon as you’ve got the sleeve in
place, untie yourself from the main line so that I can reel it up and
use it.”
She gave him his gloves.
He put them on. “One more thing. I’ll be letting the rope out much
faster than I did the first time. Don’t panic. just hold on, relax,
and keep your eyes open for the ledge coming up under you.”
“All right.”
“Any questions?”
“No.”
She sat on the edge of the setback, dangled her legs over the gulf.
He picked up the rope, flexed his cold hands several times to be certain
he had a firm grip. A meager trace of warmth had begun to seep into his
fingers. He spread his feet, took a deep breath, and said, “Go!”
She slid off the ledge, into empty space.
Pain pulsated through his arms and shoulders as her full weight suddenly
dragged on him. Gritting his teeth, he payed out the rope as fast as he
dared.
in the thirty-eighth-floor corridor, Frank Bollinger had some difficulty
deciding which business lay directly under Harris’s office. Finally, he
settled on two possibilities: Boswell Patent Brokerage and Dentonwick
Mail Order Sales.
Both doors were locked.
He pumped three bullets into the lock on the Dentonwick office.