Binary

Martin moved closer to the door. `I think so -'

`Maybe you shouldn't -'

Martin began to cough. His nose ran. `Shit,' he said. `What is this?' He coughed again.

Jencks went forward to help him. Then Jencks felt the stinging in his nostrils, and the liquid began to pour over his shirt. He didn't know a nose could run that way. His eyes ached and stung; he felt dizzy. `What the hell…' He had a coughing fit.

The walkie-talkie crackled. `This is Phelps,' a voice said. `Over.'

Martin took a step towards the walkie-talkie and fell to the floor. Now he could see the faint wispy whiteness seeping through the door.

`This is Phelps. Over.'

Jencks was coughing loudly and groaning.

Martin stretched out his hand towards the walkietalkie. He was weak. His arm trembled. Then, without warning, he vomited and lost consciousness.

`I'm not getting an answer,' Phelps said.

Graves and Nordma

`Are they dead?' Phelps said.

`Probably.'

`How can you just stand there?F

'Because,' Graves said, `it was just a short burst. The valves are turned off again.'

Phelps looked puzzled.

`It wasn't a full release,' Graves said. `It's just a partial release, to fill the room with gas. That's why Wright carefully closed the windows. Now we really can't get in there.'

`You sound so appreciative,' Phelps said.

`I'm not. But we understand now what Wright meant by a complex staging sequence.'

`God damn it, this is not a jigsaw puzzle! Two cops have died and -'

`We're all right,' Nordma

'And what do you intend to do between now and then?' Phelps demanded angrily. `I'm going to call the Navy,' he said. `Their men were supposed to be here an hour ago. It's four thirty now.'

Graves stared at the gas-filled apartment. He had a brief mental image of the two cops staggering drunkenly in the hallway. He pushed it away; he could consider it later.

Beside him Nordma

Graves said, `How thick is the gas in that room?'

`Hard to say,' Nordma

`If you shot me full of those antidotes, could I survive the atmosphere in that room?'

`I don't know.'

`Would I have a chance?'

`A chance? Of course. But even if you could survive, how would you get in? You said yourself it's wired with explosives. You can't go in the front door.'

`I wasn't thinking of the door,' Graves said. `I was thinking of the window.'

`The window?' Nordma

..Graves looked down at the street below, where an ambulance had pulled alongside the wrecked Alfa. A half-dozen cops and orderlies were trying to open the door, but it was still jammed shut. `Damn,' he said. `I wish he were still alive.'

`It probably wouldn't matter,' Nordma

Graves said, `How good are my chances with the antidote?'

`Four thirty-five,' somebody said.

`Maybe one in two,' Nordma

`All right. Let's do it.'

`Are you sure?'

'What choice do I have?'

Nordma

He quickly filled a syringe with two solutions, one pale yellow, the other clear.

Graves sat and watched him. `How do I take it?'

`Intravenously.'

`You mean, in the vein?'

`Yes.'

`I can't possibly shoot into my veins.'

`You can,' Nordma

Graves rolled up his sleeve, and Nordma

`So do I,' Graves said.

Nordma

Graves felt the coldness of alcohol on his forearm, and then the prick of the. needle.

`Don't move,' Nordma

Graves looked at the equipment taped to his arm. `You sure this will work?'

`I told you the odds,' Nordma

Graves stood up. `Okay,' he said. `Time?'

`Four thirty-nine.'

`Let's go,' he said, and ran for the elevator.

They came to the street and ran outside. By his side Nordma

The cop went off to get some.

`Hurry!'

The cop hurried.

Graves looked at Nordma

`Right.'

`What's to prevent us from getting knocked off in the elevator as we go up to the twentieth floor?'

`Nothing,' Nordma

`Is that all you have to say?'

Nordma

Two burly cops came over. One had a coil of white nylon rope over his shoulder. `Come with us,' Graves said. And he ran with Nordma

The elevator creaked up slowly. Graves fidgeted. Nordma

They passed the tenth floor.

`Listen,' Graves said. `I had another thought. ZV is an oil, right?'

`Yes.'

`Well, when I get into that room, all the surfaces will be coated with oil. And deadly. Right?'

`Probably not,' Nordma

`You sure?'

`I'm not sure about anything.'

They passed the fifteenth floor. Graves resisted the impulse to hold his breath. He looked at Nordma

Seventeenth floor. Eighteenth floor. Nineteenth floor. Graves waited for the gas to hit him, but nothing happened. They came to the twentieth, and the doors opened.

`We made it,' he said.

`So far,' Nordma

They hurried down the corridor.

`Time?'

`Four forty-two,' one of the cops said.

They came to Apartment 2011, the one directly above Wright's. The building had been evacuated and the door was locked. The two policemen threw themselves at the door. It didn't move. They tried again without success.

Nordma

`Let me do that,' one of the cops said, and swung hard near the lock.

`Knock it down, knock it down,' Graves said.

It took time. There was no easy crash and splintering; the wood was new and strong and thick. Finally the cop managed to bash a hole large enough to admit his hand. He reached in and turned the lock. The door swung open, and they came into an apartment that was all chintz and doilies and heavy furniture.

Graves went directly to the window and flung it open. He looked out and down, feeling the hot, gusty August wind. He was sweating hard.

One of the cops tied the nylon rope around his waist.

`Tell me what I do,' Graves said to Nordma

`Okay,' Nordma