“Tell that to my back,” Lavette said.“I can’t drive with a busted back, and if I can’t drive, I can’t pay off my rig.”
T.R.opened his briefcase, found his cellular phone and snapped it open.“If you can’t drive, you’ll get an insurance settlement.”
“And sit around doing nothing?No thanks.”
T.R.dialed 911, gave their location and problem and hit the disconnect button.“They’re sending a team to get us out,” he said.As the news penetrated his numb brain, an adrenaline rush hit his system and he almost dropped the phone.He clenched his fist around it and fought the trembling just as the elevator rumbled and lurched to the right.
“Damn!”Lavette cried out.“Aren’t we all the way down yet?”
“We’re all the way down,” the cop said.“The blasted thing’s still settling, that’s all.Move your fingers and toes, see if you still have all your motor coordination.”
Paralysis.The thought sickened T.R..
Lavette rustled around a little.“I can move everything,” he said at last, and T.R.sagged with a sudden release of tension.
“Good,” said the cop.“What’s your name?”
“Lavette.Chase Lavette.”
“T.R.McGuinnes,” T.R.said, taking his cue.
“Joe Gilardini,” the cop supplied.“I wish I could say it was nice to meet you guys, but under the circumstances, I wish I’d been denied the pleasure.”
“Same here,” Lavette said.
Sweat dripped down T.R.’s chin and he wiped it with the sleeve of his suit jacket.What they all needed was a distraction, he decided.He scrambled for ideas and came up with the last topic that had occupied his mind before the elevator had crashed.“Either one of you ever been out West?”
“Why do you want to know?”Lavette asked.
“I don’t, really.I just think talking is better than sitting here waiting for the elevator to shift again.”
“Guess you’re right,” Lavette said.“No, I’ve never been out West.Eastern seaboard’s my route.Always wanted to go out there, though.”
The cops sighed.“God, so have I.The wide-open spaces.Peace and quiet.”
“No elevators,” Lavette put in.
“Yeah,” Gilardini said.“If I didn’t have my kid living in New York, I’d turn in my badge, collect my pension and go.”
T.R.thought he should probably be locked up for the way his mind was working all of a sudden.Only a crazy person would start putting together a business deal at the bottom of an elevator shaft with his fellow crash victims.Or maybe not so crazy.He’d just been reminded that life is short, and you’d better grab what you can, when you can.A pension and an insurance settlement.It might be enough, with what he could raise.Of course, these guys probably didn’t know the first thing about investing, but maybe that was what he needed.His usual contacts knew so much, they turned gun-shy on him.
“I just heard about this guest ranch in Arizona that’s up for sale,” he said.“One of those working guest ranches with a small herd of cattle.I’m going out there next week to look it over.”
“No kidding?”Lavette said.“Think you might buy it?”
“If it checks out.”
“Running a guest ranch,” Gilardini mused aloud.“You know, that wouldn’t be half bad.”
“And after I’ve had some fun with it, I’ll sell it for a nice profit,” T.R.said, sweetening the deal.“Tucson’s growing in that direction, and in a couple of years, developers will be crying out to get their hands on that land, all one hundred and sixty acres of it.I can’t lose.”
“A hundred and sixty acres,” Lavette said with reverence.
“I’m looking for partners.”
The cop laughed.“Now I’ve heard everything.Only in New York would a guy use an accident as a chance to set up a deal.”
The elevator settled with another metallic groan.
