"I've been here before," Molly whispered, recognizing the enormous replica of a whale suspended from the ceilings. High overhead, the storm pounded the expansive crown of skylight windows, a unique feature of the grand exhibition area that had once been an open courtyard. "This is the Ocean Hall."
Hurley peered into the dark corners of the room. He pointed to a niche behind a tall display case. "Let's hide over there until some of the heat dies down. Besides, the Prof here needs a breather."
Despite his massive size, Hurricane seemed to slide effortlessly into the narrow recess. Molly and Pendleton followed suit, the latter collapsing to the floor and resting his head on his knees as he gasped for air. Molly on the other hand discovered that she had been unconsciously holding her breath.
It seemed that no time at all had passed when a dance of light on the wall signaled the approach of an unknown party. Molly’s heart was pounding in her chest and, as irrational as it was, she feared their pursuers would hear the thumping and the rush of blood that now filled her ears. Hurley’s low whisper cut through the panic. "Nice and easy. Not a sound."
The flashlight was visible now; the person holding it had entered the hall and was sweeping the corners of the exhibit with the beam. When the light played over the display case where they were concealed, Molly tried to compress herself further into the concealing darkness, but when it moved away, her curiosity got the better of her and she edged around the corner for a look at the searcher.
The man was an indistinguishable shape in the darkness. All she could see was the flashlight as it roamed back and forth, scanning the floor tiles. Molly felt a new surge of panic as she realized what the man was looking for — a trail of blood leaking from Hurley’s gunshot wound. She bit back the impulse to whisper a warning; the wily old warhorse had probably already realized the same thing and was no doubt hefting his prodigious pistols in anticipation of another shootout. But then, as swiftly as the man with the flashlight had arrived, he turned to leave the Hall of Oceans, evidently satisfied that this quarry had moved on.
Molly sagged back against the wall, drawing in a deep relieved breath. The moment was short-lived, for as the man approached the exit, a strident voice from right beside her screamed, "Here! They’re right here!"
CHAPTER 3 — A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
As bad as conditions on the ground were, they could not compare with the weather that lashed the upper reaches of the city — the top floors of Manhattan’s gigantic skyscrapers. Not only did the rain pummel the exposed observation decks, but the strength of the hurricane force winds was enough to cause the buildings to sway violently, as though the solid steel and concrete walls were as supple as rubber. On the 86th floor of the city’s tallest structure, the Empire State Building, night watchman Sammy Barnes felt a little like a sailor at sea. He stared through the streaked glass windows, not daring to venture out onto the exposed observatory even though his duties required him to do so.
"Let ‘em can me," he murmured, still damp from the soaking he’d got on the short walk from the bus to his workplace.
He didn’t really think that would happen. Even though the key-clock he carried would show that he had skipped a station on his route, the head watchman would no doubt take the circumstances into consideration. Nevertheless, he made a good faith effort to check the observation deck from the safety of the elevator lobby before returning to the stairwell to continue his patrol.
Although his innocent omission would later become the subject of intense scrutiny, it was very unlikely that, even if Barnes had braved the tempest to insert the numbered key in his clock or had made a more thorough search of the area, he would have noticed the figure hiding outside and just below the cage-like barrier that surrounded the outermost parapet of the observatory. The lithe shape dressed all in black had been there for hours, completely motionless, awaiting the perfect moment to emerge from concealment. With the departure of the unlucky Mr. Barnes, that time had finally arrived.
The black-clad shape smoothly reached up and gripped the bars with gloved fingers. Spider-like, the wraith ascended the barrier and then rolled over the inwardly curving spikes that had been put in place to discourage daredevils and suicide jumpers from getting too close to the edge. The intruder lingered there, verifying that the area was completely abandoned before approaching the doors to the elevator foyer. A probing hand tested the latch. Locked.
The dark figure knelt before the door and produced a small roll of black cloth, which opened to reveal a variety of metal tools. The intruder selected two hardened steel lock-picks and went to work. A few minutes later the bolt slid back permitting entry to the lobby and the burglar hastened inside.
Most visitors to the Empire State Building came with a single purpose in mind: to see the city from the Observatory. To facilitate, the builders had installed fifty-eight passenger elevators, each one capable of traveling twelve hundred feet per minute. Upon close of business, however, those lift cars were all returned to the main level lobby to await their operators' arrival in the morning. The only other means of moving about the interior of the immense edifice seemed to be the fire stairs, which the watchmen walked on their nightly route, but the burglar made no move toward the stairwell. Instead, using tools from the small roll, the black-clad figure forced open one of the elevator doors to expose the dark, oily smelling shaft beyond.
With an alacrity that could only be the result of years of practice and experience, the shadowy form stepped out into the void and appeared to grasp one of the metal cables from which the car was suspended. The handgrip was more than it seemed. A unique mechanical device attached by a length of rope to the burglar’s waist had been secured to the cable, locked in place by a spring-loaded cam. Dangling from this belaying device, the intruder commenced a slow but steady descent. The only sound in the well of darkness was a mechanical ticking and after exactly six hundred and seventy-two clicks, one for every inch traveled, both the noise and the downward journey ceased. In almost total darkness, the burglar stepped away from the cable and got a toehold on the narrow ledge that marked the location of the door. The portal opened just a sliver and a small dental mirror was extended a few inches into the hallway. Barnes wasn’t due to arrive on the floor for ten more minutes, but the burglar hadn’t survived and prospered in such a dangerous line of work for so long by taking such things for granted. Satisfied that there were no unexpected eyes watching, the intruder emerged from the elevator shaft and into the dimly lit corridor of the seventy-eighth floor.
The burglar clung to the walls, checking every corner with the mirror before gliding effortlessly down the halls. Again, the caution was perhaps unwarranted. The floor was largely vacant of tenants, a problem that in fact plagued the entire enterprise to the extent that locals had taken to calling it the "Empty State Building." The burglar navigated through the hallways to a particular unmarked door.
With a swiftness born of practice, the intruder took an oblong metal rod from a sewn-in pocket and, with a few deft motions, unfolded it into a short single-peg ladder. Balancing the telescoping device directly in front of the door, the burglar stepped up the rungs and peered at the lintel. Probing gloved fingers revealed a wire that ran from the frame, up the wall and disappeared into the plaster ceiling. Using a small knife with an insulated handle, the burglar stripped the insulation from the wires and then closed a circuit between the two with a short length of twisted copper. The entire process took less than a minute. The dark clad figure dropped back to the floor and picked the lock to gain entry to the office.