Chapter 7
From far, far away he heard voices. His head pounded as if someone were using it for a practice baseball and slamming it again and again with heavy bats. He moaned softly and opened his eyes. The painful light drove into his brain like a thousand needles and he almost screamed in pain.
"Jesus, this ain't like the movies," he groaned.
He rose up on one arm and looked around, trying to remember where he was. It came back to him quickly and he shook his head to clear the last bit of cobwebs out of it.
He listened again to the voices and strained to make out what they were saying. He could hear Ilsa talking then her heard a familiar voice talking back to her.
"I counted on him being foolish enough to fall for your charms, my dear," the smooth, liquid voice said.
"It was easy," Ilsa chuckled in reply. "He was as weak and foolish as any american male. There are so easy to trap!"
"Well, when he awakes we shall have to speak with him, won't we," Vandam chuckled. "He is still out, isn't he?"
"I just checked, he will be for quite some time I imagine. I don't know if he will be awake before your business is concluded."
"A pity," sighed Vandam. "I rather wanted to question him before we went to work, but, no matter, as long as he is safely in your hands, it can wait."
Roger looked around the room, realizing he was trapped. Quickly he put on his clothes and contemplated making a dash for the door to the hall on the other side of the room. He tiptoed over to the bedroom door, slightly ajar and peered into the living room.
Vandam was standing beside Ilsa and leaning against the apartment door was the huge, menacing figure of Putt. That put an end to that, Roger wasn't about to tangle with the giant if he didn't have to.
He sighed in frustration then noticed the open window. He gently made his way over to it and peered outside. There was a narrow, almost nothing of a ledge running along side of the building. There might be a chance to work his way to another apartment. Chance, nothing, he thought. It's my only choice.
He was about to step out when he heard Vandam mention Nicole's name. He hurried back to the bedroom door and listened with growing terror.
"I'll take care of her after tonight, have no fear," he was telling a worried Ilsa. "She is safely tucked away in the usual place. Once this other business is concluded, I will attend to her. Now let us have a spot of wine while "we wait for our friend in the bedroom to wake up, shall we?"
Roger backed away from the door, his heart pounding rapidly. They had Nicole! His belly churned and he had to breath deeply a couple of times to steady himself. He peered out the window, down the long ten stories to the street below. Gulping a couple of times, he gingerly stepped out onto the ledge.
The wind was whipping around the building wildly and he almost lost his grip as he slowly worked his way down the long, narrow slip of concrete. He was never more frightened in his life and the panic was riding steadily beneath the surface of his calm. It took all his will not to lose control and it seemed to take forever just to make a few steps.
With an agonizing slowness he inched his way past a tightly locked apartment window. He tapped with his foot and realized to his terror that he would never be able to break the glass. He was trapped on the ledge and he did not know what to do.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a whipping of curtains a little further on and he moved gently toward them. Finally he realized that a window was open and he reached the open place and tumbled into the hallway, breathing frantically, the fear finally released from him.
After a few moments he quietly made his way back to Ilsa's door and waited. In a minute or two he heard shouts of alarm in the room and he hid himself around the corner after having pressed the down button in the elevator. He watched as Vandam and Putt emerged from the apartment and impatiently waited for another elevator to arrive.
"Be ready to leave when I call," Vandam hissed at Ilsa and then he climbed about the elevator with Putt.
Before Ilsa could shut the door, Roger leaped across the hall and shoved his way into the apartment. "Where are they keeping her," he cried, wrapping his fingers around her throat. "Tell me fast, you bitch! Tell me!"
"In ... in ... an unused storage room underneath the Monument," the woman gasped. "They're going to the Monument!"
"What are they up to, talk, damn you," Roger cried, tightening his grip on her throat.
"They're going to assassinate the President of Zambozia," she moaned, feeling her life slipping away under his frenzied grip. "They are having a huge gathering for him and they are going to kill him!"
Roger cocked his fist and hit her hard on the temple. She groaned quietly and passed out. He quickly tied her to a chair and rushed out of the apartment.
He hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to the Washington Monument, overriding the man's protests that the traffic would be murder with the promise of a big tip if he got him somewhere close to the structure.
There was no use calling the police, they would only lock him up and then by the time they knew what was happening, Vandam would be long gone. Roger bit his nails as they rode along, the sweat pouring from him. He only had minutes, he realized.
The traffic grew more and more snarled as they drew near to the huge crowd and finally the driver could go no further. He slowed to a stop and Roger tossed him a twenty and jumped from the cab.
He pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, moving slowly, achingly toward the front. He could hear the President of the United States speaking warmly of the African leader who had brought peace to his land and Roger's eyes searched the crowd for a sign of Vandam or Putt.
He spied a slightly cracked door at the base of the monument and he rushed past the police into the building. The cops shouted for him to halt as he tore down the stairs to the basement. He began banging on the doors, smashing them with his fists, shouting out Nicole's name.
He heard no answer and his eyes swept the bank of elevators that lead to the viewing tower at the top of the magnificent spire. He saw one elevator making its way to the top and he quickly punched all the up buttons until another opened.
Half a dozen cops rushed to the elevator door as it slammed shut and Roger was quickly on his way to the top. He gulped and felt his ears pop as he went up, up up and in moments was facing the gallery chamber, high above the city.
In front of him, cowering on the floor was Nicole, dressed in a ratty bathrobe. Beside her, pointing out the window was Vandam and Putt stood with a high-powered rifle at his chest, about to kneel.
"Nicole, run," Roger shouted, moving toward her.
The girl jumped to her feet and Vandam and Putt turned around. Roger grabbed her arm and pulled he toward the elevator but Vandam pushed them out of the way. "Kill them," he hissed as the door shut on him and he made his way back down.
Spying a set of stairs leading upward, Roger pulled the girl along as Putt fired two hasty shots at them. The gun jammed and the huge giant tossed it aside, hurrying after them.
Slowly Roger and Nicole made their way to the top of the stairs. It lead to the outside of the monument, to the large, tall radio tower shooting up to the sky. There were a series of safety ladders around the peak and Roger looked back, seeing Putt emerge from the door and he yanked Nicole toward him.
The girl lost her footing and screamed, sliding down a few rungs of the ladder until she got her grip and hung over the lip of the massive building. Roger worked his way down to her, his heart pounding with fear.
"I can't hold on much longer," she gasped, her fingers growing wet with sweat. "Roger, help me, help me!"
Inching his way down Roger gulped and moaned and clasped his hand around the girl's wrist. He began pulling on her almost dead-weight, groaning with the effort.
"Come on, darling," he hissed. "Come on, push, push, push!"
He was holding on with his other hand to the rung of the ladder and Putt grinned wickedly, moving over to where Roger .was holding on. He stared down at Roger's gripping hand and gently put his foot over the clasped fingers.
As he bore down, the pain shot through Roger's hand with an intensity he knew he could not bear much longer. Putt smiled happily as he ground his heel over Roger's bruised knuckles.
Nicole wrapped her fingers around another rung of the ladder and hooked her legs around the bottom one. "I've got it, darling," she gasped. "I've got it!"
Just then three policeman burst from the open door and shouted at the three people at the lip of the building. Putt turned his head in their direction and Roger let go Of Nicole's wrist and smashed his fist into the giant's leg. Putt gave out a surprised squeal and shifted on his feet. His legs slipped from the rung and he fell backward, tumbling and flying into the air and plunging out of sight, totally with a single, horrifying shocked cry of alarm. He didn't know what had hit him.