That Time in Cairo, Logan Ryles [books suggested by bill gates .txt] 📗

Charlie One. Arranging evac now.” Edric spoke with the practiced calm of a man whose back had been driven against the wall a thousand times, and Wolfgang felt reassured, like a kid hearing the calming voice of a parent.

Megan flipped from landing to landing with the elegance of a jungle cat as Wolfgang stumbled to follow. They made it to the fourteenth floor before doors burst open somewhere beneath them, and screaming voices shouted upward. An alarm went off, and red lights flashed from the walls.

“Charlie One, be advised, the building is on full alert,” Lyle said. His voice was as steady as Edric’s. “All exits are going into auto lock. Reserve security is moving in from the lobby.”

“Shit!” Megan said. She slid to a stop halfway down the stairs between the thirteenth and fourteenth floor, then leaned over the railing and stared down the space between the steps. Boots thundered beneath them, and she shook her head. “No good! We’ve got to get out of here.”

Wolfgang rushed back up the steps to the fourteenth-floor landing, then slammed his body against the door. It wouldn’t open. He tried again, but the door was bolted.

“Charlie Eye!” Wolfgang said. “The doors to the stairwell are locked. What do we do?”

From the far side of the com unit, Wolfgang imagined he could hear Lyle breathing through tensed lips as he pounded on a keyboard, searching for a way out of the stairwell. That was how it worked in the movies, right?

Megan shoved past Wolfgang and rushed to the wall, where a mounted red box housed an ax and a fire extinguisher. Next to it was a trigger for the firearm. Megan pulled the trigger, and a new shriek joined the existing alarm, followed a moment later by a shower from the overhead sprinklers.

The door locks clicked open.

“Think on your feet, Wonderboy,” Megan said, pushing the door open. “Fire protocol trumps security protocol.”

They spilled onto the fourteenth floor and found it to be a carbon copy of the eighteenth. Plush carpet covered the hallway, which was lined on either side by luxurious wooden doors with identical little lamps next to each one. Only this time, the carpet was wet, and sleepy-eyed residents poked their heads into the hallway as the fire alarm continued to blare.

Megan slid to a stop and looked toward the elevator. The LED display above the door showed the car at the tenth floor, and it was headed up.

“Is there another stairwell?” Wolfgang said.

“It’s at the end of the hall,” Lyle said. “But you won’t get far. Security protocols probably call for them to lock down all stairwells.”

Megan and Wolfgang exchanged a glance as the elevator hit the thirteenth floor. Wolfgang imagined half a dozen beefy copies of the guards upstairs, all armed to the teeth and ready to avenge their humiliated comrades.

“Charlie One, get out of there,” Edric snapped. “Our mission does not allow for you to be caught!”

Wolfgang’s mind spun as he saw Megan continue to hesitate. He realized that she was as lost as he was, and the thought galvanized his mind into action. He turned to the nearest apartment door and saw a Latina woman wearing a cosmetic face mask poke her head out and glare at them. He visualized the apartment on the other side and assumed it looked a lot like Dr. Pollins’s apartment, at least in layout. There would be a short hallway, then a kitchen on the right, a living room on the left, and the balcony straight ahead, hovering almost two hundred feet off the pavement.

The balcony.

“I’ve got it!” Wolfgang said. He grabbed Megan by the elbow and rushed toward the woman, motioning her aside and dragging Megan behind him.

“Excuse me!” Wolfgang said. “Lovely night, isn’t it?”

The woman shrieked as Wolfgang and Megan plowed through. The apartment on the other side was nothing like Pollins’s—this one was a wreck, with piles of laundry and household knickknacks everywhere. It smelled heavily of sour food, and a cat scurried by as Wolfgang rushed into the living room. Despite the mess and the smell, however, the balcony door was right where it should’ve been, and Wolfgang made a beeline for it.

“What are you doing?” Megan demanded.

“Thinking on my feet!” Wolfgang said. He threw the sliding glass door open and hurried onto the balcony, turning to the left and peering down.

The side of the tower gleamed with polished glass and metal, reflecting the city lights of Cairo. From where Wolfgang stood, he could see the next four balconies jutting out of the round tower in a spiral pattern, overlapping each other by about half their width as they wound toward the ground. The next in line stuck out like a stair step, fourteen feet below.

Close enough.

“Wait . . . What are you thinking?” Megan shook her head and stepped back a pace as Wolfgang hauled himself up onto the railing, tucking his toes onto the edge of the balcony outside the railing before twisting around to face Megan. “I’m not thinking, Meg. I’m getting the hell out of here!”

Wolfgang squatted on the outside of the balcony, transitioning his hands to the bottom of the railing before kicking his feet out and allowing his body to fall. His legs swung freely as his hands tightened around the bottom of the metal spindles, then he looked down. The floor of the balcony below him now rested about eight feet beneath his shoes—a jarring fall, but not a fatal one.

He let go of the railing. His body dropped like a bomb, clearing the eight feet in a split second before his feet slammed into the concrete beneath him. The impact sent pain shooting up his legs and through his knees, but he minimized some of the shock by allowing himself to crumple into a roll, hitting the balcony floor on his hips and shoulder before returning to his feet. Wolfgang panted and dusted himself off. Then he looked up to find Megan. “Come on!”

Megan hesitated, looking down the face of the tower