CHAPTER 9
Leap of Faith

"Jeee-sus!" said Frax. "Was that a dart gun, or a taser, or what? And how do we know she's ever gonna `come to'? An old lady like her, she might've had a stroke or cracked her skull on the pavement. They don't seem to be too worried about `collateral damage' issues here."

A moment later the light went out and stayed out, as two figures appeared back on camera, now lit only by moonlight. Grashof and Prandtl, as predicted.

"They'll have to pick the lock on the studio door," said Wilt. "It's a double-keyed deadbolt that they can't bypass with any simple credit card trick. Even if they cut a hole in the plywood where the window used to be, the inside key lock means they can't reach through and unlock it. They could probably kick the door hard enough to tear out the frame, but it would make a big racket."

They did none of these things. One reached into his gym bag and pulled out what looked like oversized bolt cutters, but with big-toothed gripping jaws instead of blades. These were applied to the bezel around the deadbolt keyhole, crushing it with a mighty crunch. The teeth bit through the bezel, which was meant to spin freely to thwart simple twist-off attacks, and grabbed the underlying lock housing. A quick thrust on the long handles broke the internal mechanism, and a minute later, having extracted the pieces along with the deadbolt itself, the two opened the door and went in.

"Uhhh, I get the distinct impression these guys aren't amateurs," groaned Wilt in a low voice, as he switched the monitor to the inside camera and sound pickup. "Everyone keep your voices down; we don't know how well sound carries here. And let's turn out the overheads, but keep our phones handy in case we need more light."

Confirming Wilt's bleak assessment, the pair pulled headlamps from their bags and proceeded to search the studio. They quickly realized there were no windows, and turned on the overhead lights. As expected, they lingered over the copy mugs, but it seemed clear they weren't fooled for long. They took one, put it in a gym bag, and continued searching.

They were thorough, and eventually came to the plank-floored aisle. They quickly discovered the upper trap door. When they couldn't lift the lower one, they held a brief discussion to decide whether to try prying, smashing, or torching it.

Frax watched with growing anxiety as they pulled out a drill and made a small hole in the middle of the door, through which they threaded a flexible fiber optic scope with its own light source. After a few moments of observation the scope was withdrawn, and the drill bit exchanged for a hole saw. Soon a plug of steel-faced firebrick was drilled out near each slide bolt, allowing a screwdriver to reach down and retract it.

"Starting to get just a tad nervous here," whispered Maud. "These guys probably give lessons to James Bond in their spare time. I think we need a backup plan, fast!"

"No shit!" Frax whispered back. "Looks like we either take our chances by following the professors down the rabbit hole, or we take our chances with the goons."

The first option was unanimous. "I'm putting Dad's notebooks in my pack," declared Wilt softly. "If we're gonna bail, at least they won't get those. We may have to hitch rides from Wisconsin or Siberia or wherever the portal place is, but it sure looks friendlier than those two."

He glanced at the computer. The monitor had reverted to "Warm-up complete. Enter run duration in minutes:"

"Looks like we can be ready to go in a hurry. We have to guess how long it will take all of us to crawl through that thing, and we have to guess how long it will take them to break in here."

"Good point," whispered Sparrow. "Once we fire up the system, they'll know we're here for sure. It's loud enough to wake dead people, along with poor Mrs. MacGruder who is hopefully not among them. The Twins will know something is up, so they'll want to move fast. I don't know if they can shoot guns through the crack in the door, but I'd like to be in sunny Siberia, or anywhere else, by then. I vote we leave ASAP."

The studio monitor showed the steel trap door being tilted out of the way. "Damn!" said one of the attackers, looking down the shaft. "Oh, well, that's why we carry all this shit. Let's anchor the rope over there. And descend real slow when we get near that trash heap."

"Well," said Maud, "it doesn't look like our great defense system is even slowing them down. I second Sparrow's motion."

"I third it, in spades," said Frax. "This is looking like a real nail-biter."

"OK," said Wilt, "get ready to squeeze through the big mug. I'm giving it five minutes, and hoping they don't decide to follow us. Luckily, those gorilla shoulders are probably too big to fit." He entered the digit, and the banshees from Hell started howling again. "Ladies first," he shouted over the roar. "I'm most likely to get stuck, so I'll go last."

He handed his pack to Frax. "Just in case I do," he said, "you take the secrets through ahead of time."

Frax strapped on the pack, leaving his own behind. In the gloom, he saw Maud squirming into the opening, feet thrashing behind her. The tripod received a solid kick in the process. After Maud went through, Sparrow took one look and shouted, "Hey, guys, the scene is drifting, up and sideways. It's not moving too fast, but don't delay. I think the rest of us better go through backwards if we don't want to land on our heads. And whatever you do, don't kick the tripod again!"

Sparrow started in, feet first, holding her pack over her head.

Frax had a flash of inspiration. He looked at the height of the tripod. He looked at how much slack would be available if the wiring between the mug and the equipment racks were to be pulled loose from the overhead clips.

He shouted to Wilt. "You go next! You'll fit; after all, your old man made it and you're no broader than he is. I think we can keep them from following us, and maybe even from getting the mug."

The monitor screen showed 4:10 minutes remaining.

Holding his phone for light in the darkened shelter, Frax ran to the shelving near the door, loping over the fat floor cables feeding the portal. He grabbed two large spools of cable, one gray and one black, hoping they'd be strong enough and long enough. They were certainly heavy and bulky enough, requiring both hands, so his phone went into his hip pocket; the glow of the three rack monitors would have to be enough.

As he turned to run back he glanced at the shelter door; light from the fiber optic scope snaked around through the crack, looking for the best way to attack their door closure scheme.

Wilt was almost through by the time Frax got back, his hands just letting go of the opening rim as he dropped out of sight.

The countdown showed 3:40.

Frax looked at the cable spools. The one with black cable was marked "RG-8/U - 100 ft" and the cable was thicker and stronger-looking than the gray. A quick glance at the end revealed a multi-stranded inner conductor, not solid, and it was fairly flexible. He tied it to the base of the nearest equipment rack, which was itself bolted to the floor. He pulled to make sure his knot was secure, then tossed the spool through the opening where Wilt had vanished; it fell out of sight, presumably unreeling as it went. Frax hoped the sideways motion of the portal meant it was well clear of Wilt by now.

A gunshot rang out from the shelter door, louder even than the portal roar, followed by the twang of the bullet ricocheting from the ceiling. Another shot, this one ricocheting from the floor. The thugs were apparently shooting at the flat slide deadbolt blades, hoping the impact of a direct hit would tear out whatever screws held them onto the door.

Due to the angle of the door crack, Frax didn't think they could see the portal or himself in front of it; their missed shots would hit the other end of the shelter, with the kitchen and bedrooms. But what if a ricochet hit some critical electronics in the racks before he got through? Or worse, while he was partway through? He tried not to think about that.

A series of rapid shots was followed by a clang as the first slide bolt blew off. The countdown showed 3:23.

He set the second spool on the floor in front of the tripod, and unwound a generous length of gray cable. It was thinner and more flexible than the black, and surely not as strong, but it wouldn't need to be. With great caution, he tied the end to the junction of the tripod legs, just above the mug. He unwound still more cable, and looked through the tunnel mouth.

The scenery was moving awfully fast.

Making sure his eyeglass strap was secure, he got down on hands and knees. He slipped his right arm through the pack straps, and gripped the two cables together tightly with his right hand. The black cable was taut, while the gray had several feet of slack. With his left hand, he tossed the gray spool through the opening, then with both hands gripping the paired cables he backed in after it.

Another series of shots and a clang as the second door bolt flew free. His last view of the timer showed 3:05.

The din from the singing coils surrounding him was deafening. When his feet met empty space, a breeze swept over his ankles. His nerve started to falter. He had to do this next part exactly right; he must climb down the black cable, the one tied to the rack, without pulling on the gray cable tied to the tripod. If he just allowed the gray cable to run free, and its spool snagged on the rocks below, the motion of the portal would pull on the cable and upset the tripod. Instead he had to keep both cables gripped tightly together until the proper moment — no sliding down.

He took a deep breath and backed over the edge, into thin air.