Jack snatched at it and snagged the last foot of cord just before it disappeared into the void of the elevator shaft.

And all the while, that damn emergency bell kept up its steady, insistent ringing.

He let out a breath. The next step would be a little harder.

Jack reeled in the cord until he heard the hook clink against the other side of the door, then he worked it up and down, twisting the cord as he let it in and out.

Finally, he felt the hook catch, but just as it did, he heard another bell, a ding! He glanced around and saw the up arrow glowing above the far right elevator door. Someone was coming.

Jack yanked on the cord, praying it was hooked on the shaft side safety handle.

It was. The elevator doors parted a few inches. That was all Jack needed. He got his foot between them, then spread them wide with his hands.

The emergency bell was even louder now. He looked down.

Two feet below his feet the top of the elevator car waited.

Now came the hard part. The really hard part.

Jack hesitated—I’ve got to be out of my goddamned mind!—and would have loved to have hesitated longer if he’d had time, but the doors to that other elevator were sliding open. Wedging his doors open with his feet, he grabbed his briefcase and stepped down onto the roof of the elevator car. As the doors eased closed behind him, he found the switch for the light atop the elevator and flipped it, hoping the bulb hadn’t burned out.

“Yes,” he said as the incandescent lit within its cage.

He grabbed the hook off the safety handle and pulled the rest of the cord through. He banged the go-ahead signal to Milkdud on the roof of the car, then dropped into a crouch.

Abruptly the emergency bell stopped.

And for a few heartbeats, blessed silence.

Then the car started down with a lurch.

“Oh, shit!”

Going down wasn’t the problem. The car was supposed to head down. That was in the plan. Milkdud had started it down before stopping between the floors, so it had to continue that way. Once he reached bottom, he’d start it back up… and take it all the way to the top.

The problem was that Jack’s breakfast wanted to remain between the sixth and seventh floors. He gritted his teeth and forced the cherry cheese Danish and coffee to stay in his stomach. With his free hand, he clutched the heavy steel sling bar that ran across the top of the car. It looked like a piece of I-beam girder. Had to be strong—it anchored the hoist cables. To his left and right the roller guides rattled softly as they wheeled along in their shoes.

The car picked up speed.

“Oh, shit!”