7:30 as he’d expected. A few minutes later he saw the lights come on in her studio. Occasionally she came close enough to the window that he could see her. His stomach tightened. He wished it didn't have to look like an accident.
At 8:00 the back door opened, and the maintenance man appeared. Right on schedule. He patted the tool belt and surveyed the area. Kate was out of sight of the windows and no one else was around. He slipped out of the undergrowth, ran quickly along the perimeter of the parking lot and into the building.
He took the stairs to the fourth floor, panting. He couldn't risk calling the elevator to the first floor because of the noise. He listened at the studio door, but heard nothing. She was probably in the darkroom. Turning to the elevator, he examined the door. Although opening the door was relatively quiet—nothing like the creaks and groans of the cage in motion, this was the risky part. If she heard it, she could come out to investigate. He felt for the pry bar in his tool belt, watching the studio. If she came out and saw him, he'd pretend he'd come to see her about a picture, or he could finish her right there if he had to.
No, no. It had to be an accident.
He let go of the bar. He could keep the tool belt hidden. Fortunately, it was cool enough this morning that the denim jacket was justified. He pressed the button and the door opened, revealing the crude wooden cage, just as he had hoped. The elevator stayed in its last position until it was called to another floor.
He waited a minute longer to be sure Kate didn't come out. He listened. Still nothing from the studio.
Entering the elevator, he pressed the Close Door button and climbed to the top of the open cage, pulled himself up onto the ladderlike rungs embedded in the shaft wall, from which he could reach the cables. Removing a rasp from his tool belt, he began sawing through the wire cable. It was much tougher than he had expected. He had hoped to make it look frayed and avoid a clean cut, but he would have to use the bolt cutters after all. Maybe he could rough up the cut with the rasp afterwards.
This was taking longer than he thought. He flashed the penlight on his watch: 8:27. The maintenance man would be back in eighteen minutes. Trying to judge how far to cut into the cable, he began to sweat. He cut further. The cable held. He snipped a few more strands and waited, shifting his weight on the rung ladder. Nothing. 8:31. He was well into the cable by now. What if he cut too far and it fell before he could get out? He made another tiny cut. One of the remaining strands snapped. The cut widened slightly, stretching the strands.
This was it! Quickly he slid the cutters back into his belt and took out the greasy rag. He rubbed it over the cut, wishing there were time to rough the cut with the rasp. It would look more like wear, he thought. But it was 8:34 now, too late. As he turned to leave the shaft, he glanced at the light bulb wired to the top of the cage and smiled. A quick twist and it was out. It would be worse for her in the dark. He climbed down the rungs, squeezing past the cage, careful to avoid putting any weight on it, until he reached the opening. He listened, but heard nothing from the studio across the hallway. He dropped to the floor and darted across to the stairwell.
Outside, he sprinted to the safety of the bushes and crouched there as the maintenance man rounded the corner of the building. He knew he should leave, get away from the area. It would be dangerous to stay, and he had really neglected his business lately. Then Kate passed in front of the window again, and he found himself unable to move. Maybe he'd watch, just for a little while. He wondered if he'd be able to hear it crash from outside.
* * *
All morning Kate had been restless, edgy, and more than once she thought she'd seen someone lurking in the bushes behind the parking lot. The phone seemed to ring every time she went into the darkroom and
At 8:00 the back door opened, and the maintenance man appeared. Right on schedule. He patted the tool belt and surveyed the area. Kate was out of sight of the windows and no one else was around. He slipped out of the undergrowth, ran quickly along the perimeter of the parking lot and into the building.
He took the stairs to the fourth floor, panting. He couldn't risk calling the elevator to the first floor because of the noise. He listened at the studio door, but heard nothing. She was probably in the darkroom. Turning to the elevator, he examined the door. Although opening the door was relatively quiet—nothing like the creaks and groans of the cage in motion, this was the risky part. If she heard it, she could come out to investigate. He felt for the pry bar in his tool belt, watching the studio. If she came out and saw him, he'd pretend he'd come to see her about a picture, or he could finish her right there if he had to.
No, no. It had to be an accident.
He let go of the bar. He could keep the tool belt hidden. Fortunately, it was cool enough this morning that the denim jacket was justified. He pressed the button and the door opened, revealing the crude wooden cage, just as he had hoped. The elevator stayed in its last position until it was called to another floor.
He waited a minute longer to be sure Kate didn't come out. He listened. Still nothing from the studio.
Entering the elevator, he pressed the Close Door button and climbed to the top of the open cage, pulled himself up onto the ladderlike rungs embedded in the shaft wall, from which he could reach the cables. Removing a rasp from his tool belt, he began sawing through the wire cable. It was much tougher than he had expected. He had hoped to make it look frayed and avoid a clean cut, but he would have to use the bolt cutters after all. Maybe he could rough up the cut with the rasp afterwards.
This was taking longer than he thought. He flashed the penlight on his watch: 8:27. The maintenance man would be back in eighteen minutes. Trying to judge how far to cut into the cable, he began to sweat. He cut further. The cable held. He snipped a few more strands and waited, shifting his weight on the rung ladder. Nothing. 8:31. He was well into the cable by now. What if he cut too far and it fell before he could get out? He made another tiny cut. One of the remaining strands snapped. The cut widened slightly, stretching the strands.
This was it! Quickly he slid the cutters back into his belt and took out the greasy rag. He rubbed it over the cut, wishing there were time to rough the cut with the rasp. It would look more like wear, he thought. But it was 8:34 now, too late. As he turned to leave the shaft, he glanced at the light bulb wired to the top of the cage and smiled. A quick twist and it was out. It would be worse for her in the dark. He climbed down the rungs, squeezing past the cage, careful to avoid putting any weight on it, until he reached the opening. He listened, but heard nothing from the studio across the hallway. He dropped to the floor and darted across to the stairwell.
Outside, he sprinted to the safety of the bushes and crouched there as the maintenance man rounded the corner of the building. He knew he should leave, get away from the area. It would be dangerous to stay, and he had really neglected his business lately. Then Kate passed in front of the window again, and he found himself unable to move. Maybe he'd watch, just for a little while. He wondered if he'd be able to hear it crash from outside.
* * *
All morning Kate had been restless, edgy, and more than once she thought she'd seen someone lurking in the bushes behind the parking lot. The phone seemed to ring every time she went into the darkroom and