Forty-eight feet down the shaft, the air smelled of scorched copper and burning lye.
White sparks showered through the iron roof grating like a burst of blinding Roman candles. Two feet below the diamond-plate floor of the elevator, a solid horizontal line of crimson laser light sliced across the dark brickwork: the fifty-foot execution line.
Inside Julian’s breast pocket, Arthur Pendelton’s Casio register screamed in a piercing, two-tone electronic warble:
[DEPTH: 48.4 FEET]
[TIME TO CABLE SEVERANCE: 1.8 SECONDS]
[CURRENT CLASSIFICATION: 3 OFFENSIVE WEAPONS]
[ELEVATOR STATUS: CONDEMNED TO FREEFALL]
“Julian, do it now!” Lin Mei yelled, her fingers clutching her statute binder against her chest as the wind roared up through the floor grating. “Civil Service Supply Code, Section Four, Subsection C! ‘Stationery, binding irons, paper-cutters, and clerical punches are protected office equipment and cannot be seized or penalized by courthouse security!’”
