Page 51 of King’s Ransom

Whack!

A sharp whip-cracking sound echoed across the roof as, without warning, one of the four canvas ratchet-straps attached to the chopper’s tail snapped abruptly.

Its tie-down stud had exploded in a short contained blast from a small explosive, just like with the gravity boots in the elevator earlier.

In response, the chopper shunted down a foot, dropping a fraction further over the rim, its landing struts squealing as they scraped against the edge.

Inside it, Yasmina King screamed.

As everyone on the helipad spun, I turned to Audrey.

‘He’s gonna drop the chopper,’ I said.

‘How do you know?’

‘Because he’s playing with us. He’s already shown he knows a hell of a lot. Maybe he knows the insurance policy maxes out at ninety million. We have to do something fast.’

‘But what can we do?’ Audrey said.

I grimaced, thinking.

‘I have an idea, but you won’t like it.’

‘Can I help?’

‘No. If I’m gonna do it, I’ll have to do it alone and I have to do it now,’ I said.

‘Go.’

I bolted off the helipad, heading for the fire stairs.

I bounded down the fire stairs three at a time.

Came to the first floor below the roof, the 98th.

It was another open-air, blow-through level: its broad square ‘windows’ opened onto the sky and a chill wind rushed through them.

As I’d seen on the blow-through level on the 75th floor, this one was a mix of machinery—air-conditioning units, vents, elevator engines—and shed-like rooms and cabinets for storing window-cleaning gear and the like. Several dozen grey concrete pillars supported the ceiling; they were unpainted since nobody but maintenance folk would ever come here.

I saw it instantly.

Over by the north side.

The nose of the chopper.

It was dipping into view outside one of the open-air windows there.

As I ran toward it, I pulled out my cell phone and speed-dialled Audrey.

‘How long to go?’ I asked.

‘One minute,’ she answered.

‘Still three straps holding up the chopper?’

‘Yeah. For now. Where are you?’

‘You don’t want to know.’