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something between a sob and a snarl,
Skoda tried to climb up the mountainside that the inside of the boat had become.
But it was already too steep. The door was almost over his head. He lost his
balance and fell backward, shouting as, one second later, the other man was
thrown on top of him. The two of them rolled into the corner, tangled up in
each other. Plates, cups, knives, forks, and dozens of pieces of scientific
equipment crashed into them. The walls of the barge were grinding with the
pressure. A window shattered. A table turned itself into a battering ram and
buried itself at them. Skoda felt a bone snap in his arm and screamed out loud.
    The barge was completely vertical, standing in the
water at ninety degrees. For a moment it rested where it was. Then it began to
rise...

    Alex stared at the barge in amazement. The crane was
lifting it at half speed--some sort of override had come into action,
slowing the operation down--but it wasn't even straining. Alex could
feel the power under his palms. Sitting in the cabin with both hands on the
joysticks, his feet apart and the jib of the crane jutting out ahead of him, he
felt as if he and the crane had become one. He had only to move an inch and the
five-ton boat would be brought to him. He could see it, dangling on the hook,
spinning slowly. Water was streaming off the bow. It was already clear of the
water, rising up about five yards per second. He wondered what it must be like
inside.
    And then the radio beside his knee hissed into life.
    "Crane operator! This is base. What the hell do
you think you're doing? Over!" A pause, a burst of static. Then the
metallic voice was back. "Who is in the crane? Who's up there? Will
you identify yourself..."
    There was a microphone snaking toward Alex's
chin and he was tempted to say something. But he decided against it. Hearing a
teenager's voice would only panic them more.
    He looked down between his knees. About a dozen
construction workers were closing in on the base of the crane. Others were
pointing at the boat, jabbering amongst themselves. No sounds reached the
cabin. It was as if Alex were cut off from the real world. He felt very secure.
He had no doubt that more workers had already started climbing the ladder and
that it would all be over soon, but for the moment he was untouchable. He
concentrated on what he was doing. Getting the barge out of the water had been
only half his plan. He still had to finish it.
    "Crane operator! Lower the hook! We believe
there are people inside the boat and you are endangering their lives. Repeat.
Lower the hook!"
    The barge was almost two hundred feet above the water,
swinging on the end of the hook. Alex moved his left hand, turning the crane
around so that the boat was dragged in an arc along the river and then over dry
land. There was a sudden buzz. The jib came to a halt. Alex pushed the
joystick. Nothing happened. He glanced at the computer. The screen had gone
blank.
    Someone at ground level had come to his senses and
done the only sensible thing. He had switched off the power. The crane was
dead.
    Alex sat where he was, watching the barge swaying in
the breeze. He hadn't quite succeeded in what he had set out to do. He
had planned to lower the boat--along with its contents--safely into
the parking lot by the police station. It would have made a nice surprise for
the authorities, he had thought. Instead the boat was now hanging over the
conference center that be had seen from Putney Bridge. But at the end of the
day, he supposed it didn't make much difference. The result would be the
same.
    He stretched his arms and relaxed, waiting for the
trapdoor to burst open. This wasn't going to be easy to explain.
    And then he heard the tearing sound.
    The metal stanchion that protruded from the end of the
deck had never been designed to carry the entire weight of the barge. It was a
miracle that it had lasted as long as it had. As Alex watched, openmouthed, the
stanchion tore itself free.