Project Maigo(88)
“I can’t get it with one arm,” Alessi complained.
“Well, I can’t very well stand, now can I?” Woodstock said, “So you’re going to have to—”
“I think I can get it,” Collins said.
Alessi looked up, saw Collins and all but collapsed. “Thank God.”
Collins slid over the side and dropped to the macadam. She landed gracefully, despite the protests of her body and her head. She was in serious pain, but compared to Woodstock and Alessi, she was healthy.
Alessi held up the wrench. “There’s just one bolt left.”
“You should have woken me up,” Collins said, taking the wrench.
“Tried,” Woodstock says. “Your arms and legs might be working fine, but you need to take it easy. A concussion is nothing to screw around with.”
Collins went to work on the bolt with one arm while cradling the launcher in the other. “You’re just saying that so you can tell Jon you said it.”
Woodstock slid himself back against the tire of an abandoned car, wincing with the movement as his legs straightened. “Pretty much.”
“This thing will still launch?” Collins asked.
“I can trigger it remotely,” Alessi said. “But someone still needs to point it in the right direction.”
Collins felt the bolt about to fall away. “How much does it weigh?”
Alessi shrugged. “Hundred pounds.”
Collins tightened her hold on the launcher just as the bolt fell away. She dropped the wrench and got both hands beneath the cylinder. Felt like more than a hundred pounds, but she’d lifted—and carried—more than that in the past. Not with a concussion, but there was no time for whining.
“You sure you got that?” Woodstock asked.
Collins grunted, hefting the cylinder up and propping it against her shoulder. “My grandfather used to say ‘It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.’”
“Spoken like a true woman of Maine,” Woodstock said with a smile. “You’re meltin’ my heart.”
“Your grandfather was quoting Mark Twain,” Alessi said, leaning against the chopper’s belly.
“Yeah, well, my grandfather was well read.” Collins looked up at the building behind which they’d taken shelter and crashed. It looked mostly intact. “You’re sure this will work?”
Alessi took a phone from her pocket and spoke the number twice. “Call me when you’re in position. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Collins had her personal phone in her pocket. She gave a nod and headed for the building’s open front doors, hoping the blast hadn’t destroyed local cell towers. Broken glass crunched beneath her feet as she moved into the building’s lobby. The reception desk looked more like a bunker. A metal detector led to the far side of the entryway where she could see a sign for the stairs. She didn’t know what the building was used for, but she assumed it contained overflow offices for House and Senate personnel.
The interior of the building was lit by emergency lights, glowing against a few of the walls. She could see, but just barely. She moved by sliding her feet forward, afraid of tripping over some unseen obstacle. But the path was clear, and she soon reached a row of elevator doors followed by the doorway to the stairs.
A wave of dizziness swept through her body. Stars danced in her vision. She carefully set the metal cylinder down and took several deep breaths, focusing on remaining upright. If she went over, she didn’t think she’d get back up for a while.
I’m never going to make it up the stairs, she thought, recalling the building’s fifteen-story height.
She glanced at the elevator. Would they still be running? It was possible that emergency power in the government building would operate the elevators, at least for a short time, so VIPs didn’t get stuck. Dragging the cylinder across the marble floor, she pushed the call button. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
Collins didn’t think about religion much, but she had no doubt some higher power had just intervened on her behalf. “Thank you, baby Jesus.” She stepped inside and hit the button for the highest floor. The doors slid shut. The elevator shuddered and rose. It felt like slow going for an elevator, and the overhead light flickered a few times, but it rose up steadily.
The doors jittered open, as though struggling to complete a final task. The hallway beyond was lit by dim emergency lights. Feeling a little more rested after leaning against the elevator wall, Collins put the cylinder against her shoulder again and moved into the hall. She quickly found the stair entry to her left and hobbled to the door. Inside the stairwell, she looked up. Two flights to go.