Carl grabbed the string and dragged it hand over hand as fast as he could while Marty picked up the slack. It was far too thin to support Carl's weight, not to mention Marty's, but whatever else it was, it was hope. The wispy, white shape revealed itself through the smoke as a string of bed sheets, blankets, and towels, all tied and retied into a long, thick rescue line. There were even loops for hand and foot-holds at the bottom. Still hauling, Carl started to giggle.
"I'll hold this end," Marty said with a wink. "You go first." Carl grabbed the bottommost handholds and noticed that they were soaking wet. Smart. He passed them over to Marty.
Marty wrapped the loops tightly around his wrists. "Climb fast. I don't think this is strong enough to support bo—"
With a huge crack, the roof broke free. Carl dove forward, barely wrapping his fingers around Marty's belt. The pair of FBI agents swung like a pendulum through the burning fifth floor and crashed into the smoking wall. Carl's hair shriveled from the heat. His lungs burned. He couldn't open his eyes.
He tried to ignore the panic clawing at his brain. He couldn't let himself breathe in. He felt the rope shift upward, and he churned his legs against the wall to help Marty support his weight. He could feel the soles of his shoes melting. With a surge of adrenaline, they clamored over the edge of the wall, only to Tarzan-swing into the brick façade of the building next door.
Carl swung wildly as Marty smashed full-force into the wall. Carl's knees slammed into the bricks. His heart jumped into his throat as they dropped. He closed his eyes and braced for impact. They fell less than a foot. Carl looked up in shock. Marty had let go of the makeshift rescue line, but the loops wrapped around his wrists held firm. He gasped for breath, his head lolling back in pain.
Oh, shit, Carl thought.
He breathed a sigh of relief as Marty's hands re-closed around the loops. Marty opened his eyes and met Carl's gaze, a fierce grin on his face. "Still some work to do, Carl. Move your feet. Like this." Marty began to walk up the wall. Carl tried to help, but was facing the wrong direction.
They rose slowly, Carl dangling from Marty's belt. His elbow was in agony. As they neared the roof, Carl heard grunts of exertion echoing from above. He did his best to use his legs to ease the burden, but there were no ledges or sills, and he didn't have any leverage.
Marty made it up over the ledge and onto the solid flat surface of the top of the building, and Carl was dragged to the roof lip. A team of exhausted men and women grabbed the makeshift rope and pulled again. With another heave, he was up. Carl couldn't let go of Marty's belt. His hands wouldn't respond. He collapsed onto the cool stone of the rooftop and just breathed.
A rousing cheer drowned out the inferno as people of all shapes and sizes came to their aid. Strong hands pried his fingers apart and hauled him to his feet. Men slapped him on the back. Women hugged him. Smiling, sweaty faces greeted him everywhere he looked, except for a lone figure in the back of the crowd.
Paul Renner wasn't smiling. He stood with his arms folded, watching them. A few exhausted men stood nearby, congratulating each other on a job well done. A man clapped Renner on the back and hugged him.
"Thank you all, so much," Carl said, shaking hands and taking hugs, tears of relief filling his eyes. "We have to go. We have to go." The crowd pressed in and threatened to smother them with good will.
"People!" Marty barked. He held his hands up to stop the crowd. "I can't tell you how wonderful you all are, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But we're on FBI business, and we have to go. Thank you again!"
Marty herded Carl toward the rooftop doorway. As they reached it, another chorus of cheers erupted behind them. They turned and waved one last time. No one was looking at them. Instead, Paul Renner was receiving an adoring send-off.
"I've never seen anything like that in my entire life."
"You're a hero, man."
"That was unbelievable!"
"I didn't think there was any way when you jumped."
"I'm glad men like you are on our side."
Paul shook hands, kissed cheeks, and smiled from ear to ear. He extracted himself from the crowd and approached the two agents, his smile vanishing.
Carl put his hands in his pockets. "Umm…thanks, Paul."
Marty moved in close and leaned down, his lips pulled back in a sneer. "This doesn't change a motherfucking thing, killer."
Paul frowned. "Don't let a little thing like me saving your life get in the way of you hating me, Agent Palomini." He turned to Carl. "Sorry, I had to borrow this. I didn't figure you'd lend it to me." He held Carl's pistol in his outstretched hand. Carl opened his mouth in shock, then closed it.