Page 25 of King’s Ransom

‘. . . who in the dropship scene enthusiastically said, “We’re on an express elevator to Hell!”’ he said.

I turned to the building’s superintendent, Lenny, as he arrived at the elevator’s doors, panting.

‘Sir, I need you to open these doors right now so we can check the underside of the express elevator.’

My watch ticked over to 12:04.

Sixty seconds.

Lenny the superintendent prised open the outer elevator doors an inch, reached up inside the rim of the doorframe and flicked a release switch allowing us to pull the doors fully open with ease.

I leaned cautiously through the doorway and peered down: 94 storeys of empty shaft dropped away from me into shadowy infinity.

Then I turned and looked up.

And saw them.

‘Holy shit . . .’ I breathed.

THE EXPRESS ELEVATOR

They were hanging by their feet from the bottom of the express elevator, upside-down above the abyss-like drop.

A six-year-old boy and his bodyguard.

Their hands were bound behind their backs and they were both gagged with silver duct tape.

Their ankles hung from the elevator’s underside thanks to . . .

. . . gravity boots.

The same hooked ankle sheaths that Aristo King used to hang upside-down to allegedly improve his mental acuity.

A little flourish from our villain, I thought.

The fourteen-foot ceilings of the three-level apartment didn’t help the situation: it meant that the boy and the bodyguard hung well out of our reach, high above us.

When they saw me silhouetted in the doorway of the elevator shaft, they both started shouting soundlessly through their gags and struggling against their bonds.

The boy’s face was streaked with tears.

‘Alexei,’ I said. ‘It’s Alexei, right? Stop wriggling, buddy. If you move too much, you might fall.’

The boy stopped struggling and nodded, whimpering behind his gag.

As for the bodyguard, he was a big burly guy. His eyes were locked on mine, wide with terror.

I frowned.

Something was stuck to their gags.

A white sticker of some kind with—I blinked to be sure—a QR code on it.

They both also had something around their necks.

‘Are they dog collars?’ Audrey said.

‘Yes,’ I said slowly. ‘Only what’s that little box on each collar—’