William Bernhardt - Deadly Justice

Four hours later, most of me Apollo legal staff had confronted me High Course. Christina had finished in a fearless forty minutes, putting her in third place for speed, behind Rob and Chuck. Some were graceful; some were graceless. Some had struggled, strained, wobbled, and weaved. But all of them had finished.

Except Ben. He hadn’t even started.

“C’mon Kincaid,” Crichton growled. He hunched over Ben’s shoulder and whispered insistently into his ear. “Look, kid, you know you’re my favorite, but I can’t go on making excuses for you. Candice is almost finished, and she’s the last one. You’re going to have to try to get through this thing.”

“Couldn’t I just not—and say I did?”

“No way, Kincaid. I can’t make exceptions. Especially not for my favorites. It wouldn’t look right.”

“What if we build another high course, just like this one, only connected to the ground?”

“I’m afraid not. C’mon—that legal assistant of yours finished in nothing flat.”

“Christina can do a lot of things I can’t, including all things that take place sixty feet off the ground.”

“Damn it, Kincaid, you’re being a pussy!”

“Sticks and stones…”

“There are no wimps on the Apollo legal team.”

“Probably because they’ve all been killed off by the High Course.”

“Look, Kincaid, I’m going up again. You can follow right behind me. I’ll be with you the whole time, just a few steps ahead. Okay?”

Before Ben could reply, a bloodcurdling scream pierced through the air.

Ben turned toward the sound. “Whaa—?”

“It’s Candice,” someone yelled. The group ran en masse toward the point of descent from the High Course.

By the time they arrived, Candice was unstrapping herself from the zip line.

“What happened?” Ben asked. “We heard you scream.”

“It was exhilarating,” Candice said. “Shooting down the zip line, I mean. The wind whipping through your hair, bracing your face.” She shimmied from head to toe. “What a turn-on.”

“Probably the closest you’ve come to orgasm in months,” Herb commented, just loud enough that everyone could hear.

“Probably closer than you’ve come in your entire life,” Candice retorted, “unless you count the nights you’ve spent alone.”

Ben was content to stay and enjoy the repartee, but unfortunately Crichton’s hands clamped down on his shoulders. “It’s time, Kincaid.”

“No last-minute reprieve from the governor?”

Crichton shook his head no. Rob fell in behind them and they returned to the entry stump for the giant’s ladder.

“Just keep your eyes on me, Kincaid. Don’t look down at the ground. Watch me.”

“Got it.” Ben watched as Crichton leapt onto the first rung of the giant’s ladder, this time without even standing on the stump. Less than five minutes later, Crichton was standing between the two wires at the top.

“Now it’s your turn, Kincaid.”

“Swell.” Ben stood on the stump and closed his eyes. “Are you holding tight to that line, Rob?”

“Of course I am.”

“Just checking.” Ben threw his arms back and jumped up as high as he could. Too high. His arms wrapped around the bottom rung, and a second after, his chin banged down on it, but hard.

“Oww!”

“Don’t let go,” Crichton shouted down. “Never turn back. Never lose ground.”

Right. Twisting with all his strength, Ben brought himself right side up. Slowly, he stood upright on the narrow beam. To his dismay, he found it wasn’t solid footing at all. The entire ladder swayed back and forth in the wind.

“Don’t stop,” Crichton shouted. “Don’t lose your momentum. And don’t look down.”

Cut me some slack, Ben thought. I’m only six feet in the air. He opened his eyes and looked down.

Big mistake. The bottom seemed to drop out of his stomach. Worse, he looked up at Crichton and saw how far he had yet to go. He felt himself dizzying. What a great time to be sick, he thought. When your entire office is watching and you’re dangling in the middle of the air.

“I’m going to start on the Burma bridge,” Crichton yelled. “Keep going.”

Thanks, I will. Ben threw his arms up…and missed the next rung entirely. He clutched the side wire desperately, swinging the entire ladder back and forth like a pendulum. He could feel the tug of the belay line at his back; Rob was pulling the rope super-taut, trying to keep him from falling. Thanks for the assist, pal.

The hell with it. Let Crichton call him a wimp—he was cheating. Ben placed his foot on the connecting bolt on the wire closest to him and boosted himself up. From that point, he was able to grab the next rung.

“Holy—!”

What was that? Ben became aware of a great commotion on the ground; everyone was staring at the Burma bridge and pointing. Ben peered up into the sun. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he saw a silhouetted Crichton waving his arms, flailing in midair about forty feet above him and four or five feet to one side.

Ben squinted. Crichton appeared to have lost his balance and slipped off the wooden ledge that led to the Burma bridge. Crichton tried to grab the tree, but it was out of his reach. Fortunately, this was the difference between belayers and tightrope walkers; his belay line held him tight. So what was everyone screaming about?

Ben traced Crichton’s belay line from his carabiner through the wheel lock and back down toward— My God! That’s what everyone was screaming about. There was a split in Crichton’s belay line. The sun glinted off a ragged tear. It looked as if it would rip clean through at any moment. And when it did, Crichton would be severed from his belay captain and all means of support.

Crichton had seen the tear, too. He was desperately trying to swing himself back to the tree, but making no progress. He was too far away. He was dangling in the air, helpless. And fully aware that he was about to plunge sixty feet to the hard earth.

Ben saw the rope split even further. He knew that in a matter of seconds it would be too late; Crichton’s weight was tearing the line apart. If someone didn’t secure his line fast, Crichton was a dead man.

Ben tensed his muscles, threw his arms back, and leaped off the giant’s ladder. He flew through open space, arms extended, and grabbed Crichton’s belay line just above the tear. A second later, the rope ripped in two. Once severed, the rope ricocheted upward like a rock from a slingshot. Ben held tight, and the rope rocketed him into the sky.

Ben shot toward the apex of the belay pulley. The rope burned in his hands. It hurt like hell, but he held fast. Come on , Rob!

Suddenly, he felt a wrenching jerk on his back. Rob had tightened Ben’s belay line to keep him from flying over the top, and since Ben was holding tight to Crichton’s line, that stopped Crichton’s descent before he splatted into the dirt.

Ben gritted his teeth and clenched the rope tightly. The strain on his arms was incredible; Crichton felt as though he weighed a thousand pounds. Now that Ben had a moment to think about what he was doing, a rush of panic spread through his body. His pulse was out of control; he was dripping with sweat. He was dangling in the air, for God’s sake! With nothing solid under his feet whatsoever. Sixty feet off the—

Ben slowly opened his eyes, one eye at a time. Rob was shouting at him, telling him to hold tight while he lowered them both to the ground. Thanks, Rob—as if I was considering just letting go. Ben only hoped he could delay being sick until his feet were planted on terra firma once again.

Earthward, he saw Rob fighting with all his strength to hold onto the line. Chuck and Christina were clutching Rob’s feet, anchoring him to the ground. Ben’s eyes followed the line burning in his hands, through the wheel lock, then down to Crichton, who was hovering just above the ground.