They’d shown up early to ensure that they’d be able to ride an empty elevator car. This redheaded early bird was going to mess up their plans.

They scrambled through the doors. As soon as he got inside, Milkdud hit “7” and then leaned on the door close button.

“Hold it, please!” the woman called from outside.

“Sorreeee,” Milkdud said softly as the doors slid closed and they started up. “But we need this one all to ourselves.”

“Close,” Jack said.

He could feel himself tensing up as the floor numbers climbed the display. He wasn’t relishing the next few steps.

Milkdud squatted and opened his briefcase. He pulled out a curved piece of metal about the size of a coat hanger hook. A length of slender cord trailed from its end.

“All right. Here’s your hook. You remember how to work it, right?”

“Yeah. I think so.”I hope so.

“Just like we practiced last night.” He handed Jack the hook and cord, then snapped his briefcase shut. “And you’ve got your change of clothes, flashlight, headlamp, and cell phone, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Jack swallowed. “Which floor?”

“Seven. A new tenant is renovating before moving in. The workmen probably don’t arrive until eight, so—”

“Probably?”

Milkdud shrugged. “I did my thing here yesterday. They don’t work on Sunday, so what can I say?”

“Okay. Let’s assume they’re not there yet.”

“Right. Which is good. That way you won’t be too rushed.”

The car eased to a stop.

Milkdud gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay, Hacker Jack, go to it. I’ll start back down—and don’t let the alarm bell rattle you.”

A bell is the least of my worries, he thought.

With the hook and cord in one hand and his briefcase in the other, Jack stepped through the open doors.

The seventh floor was indeed under construction, a clutter of lumber and wallboard, all coated with a fine layer of sawdust and plaster.

And no workers yet.

As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, Jack dropped his briefcase and began working the hook through the space between the metal lintel and the top of the elevator doors. He and Milkdud had practiced this a dozen times last night on the elevator in Milkdud’s building. The top space here was narrower.

And then the elevator alarm bell started ringing as Milkdud hit the emergency button, stopping the cab between the sixth and seventh floors. Jack had been expecting this, but still he jumped.

He knew he had time, but the bell was a goad, pushing him to hurry. Finally the hook slipped through and dropped over on the other side of the door.

And kept dropping, taking the cord with it.

He’d forgot to wrap the damn cord around his wrist.

“Christ!”