A Bridge to Love (29 page)

He
put his hand on the horn and yanked the car right.

Mass
pandemonium among the cars in the right hand merge was the immediate result.
But then the Jaguar's brakes were squealing and they slammed to a halt at the
pullover. Kate unclipped her seat belt, jumped out of the car and ran between
the rails of the fence.

The
noise of the wind and traffic assaulted her ears as she raced along the
concrete sidewalk. Despite her exertions, she was freezing in a few seconds and
her feet were throbbing from the pounding and the cold. She drew comfort from
the dark shape that almost immediately came up running beside her.

As
they raced past the fence protecting the two massive cables that carried half
the load of the bridge, Kate prayed that the sidewalk access gate was open. It
was easy to get around, but it would cost them precious seconds to do so.
Luckily the barred metal gates stood wide open. From there the sidewalk ran
straight to the tower. Randall reached for her hand and picked up his pace,
sharing his strength with her. The evenly spaced sets of vertical support
cables on either side of the walkway seemed to mark their progress as they
sprinted past.

They
were almost at the tower when a sudden squeal of brakes and honking of horns
made them both redouble their efforts. Their pursuers had stopped. “Stay low,”
Randall yelled as a tractor-trailer roared past.

As
they approached the soaring steel structure, what looked airy and graceful from
a distance became a complex puzzle of giant girders, trusses and plates. The
sidewalk turned to the right and Kate led Randall past the caged passageway
through the tower to the corner where guardrail and security fence met. Just as
they reached it, two men ran out of the pedestrian throughway to their left.
Randall pushed Kate against the fence and flattened himself over her. Kate
literally held her breath and thanked her lucky stars that the Port Authority's
budget didn't allow for illuminating the tower except on holidays.

She
couldn't see or hear the men because Randall's coat was covering her face. She
was grateful for the warmth of his body counteracting the achingly cold metal
bars of the fence she was crushed against. Suddenly the warmth was gone.

“They're
headed toward our car. Let's go,” Randall said.

Kate
closed her eyes for a split second and uttered a brief prayer. Randall helped
her over the railing. She resolutely kept her eyes up but she could practically
feel the thinness of the two hundred feet of air beneath her. She gulped and
released her right hand to grasp the fence extension. She slotted her right
foot between two of the fence's vertical bars and found the horizontal
crossbar. Then she shifted her left foot and left hand onto the fence. Now she
had to maneuver around the end of the fence so that she could reach for the
girder slanting up on the other side.

Without
thinking, she looked down to see where to place her feet. Panic struck,
freezing her in place. Suddenly the gusts of wind and the vibration of the
traffic seemed to conspire to shake her loose from the fence and she locked her
fingers around the bars in a death grip.

“Kate,
are you all right?” Randall's voice cut through the fog of terror.

“N-n-no,”
Kate quavered.

“Hang
on. I'll be right there.”

Kate
felt rather than saw him come over the guardrail and onto the fence. Then he
caught her wrist in a grip that was reassuringly firm. “Let go now and turn
your hand to hold my wrist,” he instructed.

Unhesitatingly,
Kate obeyed.

“Good
girl. I'll hold you while you move your feet to the end of the fence. That's
it. Now wait a minute while I catch up to you.”

Kate
felt his suit jacket flapping against her side. The panic subsided as quickly
as it had flared. With Randall holding her, she would never fall. She swung
gracefully around the end of the fence and moved far enough down for Randall to
join her. She saw his eyes narrow as he gauged the gap between their perch and
the girder.

“I
make it about four feet,” he shouted over the wind. “I'll keep hold of your
wrist while you swing across. Then I'll follow.”

Kate
freed her right foot. “I'm going on three,” she yelled back to Randall. He
nodded.

“One.
Two. Three,” Kate counted and released her grip. Randall's hand was clamped on
her wrist like a steel vise, and Kate had a brief sensation of soaring across
the space. Then both her right hand and foot hit solid metal cross-trusses and
held. For a moment she hung spread-eagled in the gap. “I've got it,” she
yelled.

Randall
released his grip, and Kate swung her left limbs onto the girder. “I'm going on
to the stair platform now,” she called to Randall, as she climbed down
perfectly spaced cross-braces.

“I'm
right behind you.”

By
the time Kate had climbed over the railing around the landing for the
maintenance stairs, Randall was climbing down the girder. He swung onto the
platform and yanked her into his arms. “Don't ever do that again,” he whispered
in her ear. “Where to now?” he asked, as he released her.

She
scooted down the steps to the lower roadway of the bridge. As she jogged along
a catwalk, she thought she heard a gunshot and flinched.

“I
think they just shot the lock on the gate to the stairs,” Randall said. “Let's
move.”

She
cut left and then they were in the underbelly of the upper level. She stepped
off the catwalk and onto a girder leading out over traffic. She had walked
girders before on construction sites, but it was a different experience in a
skirt and bare feet. She wished heartily for her rubber-soled running shoes.
Her pantyhose were in shreds across the bottoms of her feet, and it took all
her willpower to keep stepping onto the frigid, filthy beams.

“Don't
move,” Randall's voice hissed behind her. “They're coming down the steps.”

Kate
froze as dark shapes pounded down the steps behind them. As they kept going
down to the lower roadway, she dropped to a crouch and headed for the center of
the bridge where it would be hard for their pursuers to follow.

Suddenly,
Randall grabbed her wrist. She stopped and looked back at him questioningly.
Silently, he pointed toward the middle of the span. Kate squinted to see what
he was gesturing toward. Just beyond the tower, a corrugated sheet metal
ceiling had been hung below the girders for some construction project. If they
could get to it, they would be invisible to anyone below.

Kate
turned onto a perpendicular girder and threaded her way through the system of
support beams. Fortunately, the lights hung below the superstructure and pointed
downward so their progress was largely in shadow. The vibration of the speeding
cars made the steel seem almost alive under her feet and suddenly a wave of
exhilaration swept over her. She knew why Randall had been smiling as he
piloted his car at high speed with an unknown enemy in pursuit. It had been his
turn then, but now she was pitting her skill against that same enemy and
winning. She almost laughed aloud.

A
few more careful steps, and they would be in the protection of the construction
ceiling. A loud bang made her teeter. “They've found us,” Randall said,
steadying her with his hands on her waist. “Go!”

Kate
no longer cared what she was stepping on as she raced for their hiding place.
Another shot rang out. And then the ceiling was between them and their
attackers. It was much darker and Kate had to slow down to give her eyes time
to become accustomed to the change in light. The traffic noise was deafening as
it echoed off the sheet metal below their feet.

“Head
for the eastbound lanes,” Randall yelled. “And take a few detours.”

Kate
simply nodded and took off on a diagonal beam, then another, then picked up a
straight one for a few yards, zigging and zagging, but always working them over
to the other side of the bridge.

“Damn
it!” she heard Randall yell behind her. He pulled her close to say in her ear,
“They've come up a ladder. We need to get behind something bulletproof.”

They
both scanned the dim, thunderous interior. He found what they were looking for
and tapped her shoulder, signaling her to follow him. Kate gave him full marks
for nerve and balance: he jogged along the girders as though they were
sidewalks. She glanced back to see if they were being followed.

The
two men had split up, and with guns held ready, were systematically working their
way across the westbound lanes, checking every shadowy niche as they went. Kate
almost collided with Randall when he stopped abruptly.

He
had tensed in a crouching position for a moment and then suddenly leapt up and
slightly forward to swing onto an overhead beam. He straddled it and reached a
hand down to her. With his steely grip on her wrist, she leapt as hard as she
could, catching the beam with her hand and leg, and coming up in front of him.

He
gestured toward a heavy steel plate that was bolted flat where two beams came
together. Kate crawled over and rolled onto its welcome protection. Randall
joined her and then inched forward to try to see their followers. “I can't spot
them,” he said, sliding back. “Check over on the other side.”

Kate
pulled herself to the other edge, scraping along grit which she had a horrible
feeling was pigeon droppings and cautiously peered into the confusion of steel
below. “I see one west of us about five cross-beams. I can't find the other
one.”

“Neither
can I,” Randall murmured back, his voice a low rumble in her ear. “I'm going to
look behind us. Don't move.”

Kate
lay still as he used his elbows to pull himself around. She tensed and held her
breath when she felt his hand grip her ankle in a warning. After what seemed an
eternity, his grip relaxed. Then he moved back to her side again.

“Where'd
he go?”

“I
don't know but I'm not worried.”

“Why
not?” Kate demanded. “We're crawling around the underside of the GWB with two
gun-toting maniacs after us!”

“Listen.”

She
closed her eyes to concentrate. Very faintly at first but gaining in volume,
she heard a siren and then another one and then a third. “Oh, thank heavens!”

Their
pursuers heard the sirens too. They exchanged shouts in a language Kate
couldn't quite understand. Feeling safe, they looked over the edge of their
plate to see the two men converge on the ladder and disappear from sight.

“Were
they speaking Spanish?” Kate asked.

“With
a Mexican accent.”

“Could
you understand them?”

“Leaving
out the expletives, the gist of it was that the cops were coming, and they
should leave.”

“Should
we try to stop them?” Kate offered tentatively.

“Hell,
no. I don't want to get shot,” Randall said.

Muscles
that Kate didn't even know she possessed relaxed as the knowledge that they were
safe surged through her. The filthy, rusty metal plate on which they lay
suddenly felt like a feather bed. Randall's arm slid under her and then he
rolled her on top of him. “It's time to celebrate,” he said, pulling her mouth
down to his.

When
their lips touched, all the terror, all the tension, and all the exhilaration
of the last hour poured forth in a kiss so mind-bending that Kate couldn't stop
even when she heard the police calling Randall's name on the bullhorn.

“Mr.
Johnson, we're the police! Are you here? Randall Johnson, it's the N.Y.P.D.
You're safe! Are you here?”

Randall
muttered a curse against Kate's lips so she lifted her head.

“Damned
police,” he complained as he helped her to her feet. “They take forever to get
here and then they have to talk to you immediately.”

He
took a firm grip on her hand before he raised his voice. “We're here and we're
fine. We're in the girders under the upper roadway and we're coming over to the
steps.”

Randall
helped Kate down from their elevated roost. She was surprised to find that it
seemed like the merest stroll back to the nearest catwalk.

Men
in uniforms were pouring down the tower stairs. “Did you see anyone?” one
yelled.

“Yeah,
but they ran when they heard your sirens. I don't know which way they went,” Randall
shouted back. Policemen ran east and west on the narrow walkway by the lower
roadway. Several officers greeted them as they approached the stairway.

“Are
you all right, ma'am? Sir?” voices asked.

Randall
tucked Kate securely in at his side and answered all inquiries about their
well-being in the affirmative. Someone handed him a blanket that he shook open
and wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

As
they climbed slowly up the steps with their police escort, another voice
sounded. “We have their car. Bring Mr. Johnson over to take a look.”

The
strobe lights of the police cruisers temporarily blinded Kate as they stepped
onto the walkway. Then she gaped in wonder at the four empty lanes of the
George Washington Bridge's westbound upper level. Police cruisers were parked
at all angles and a line of stationary headlights stretched away behind them to
the east. The New York-bound lanes were practically at a standstill as drivers
tried to catch a glimpse of whatever disaster had brought forth such a collection
of official vehicles. She couldn't help pitying the poor souls caught in the
traffic jam.