Abigail kept looking at her watch, wondering when Pastor Campbell would show up. Rocky Bridger grabbed the tourist book off a coffee table and flipped to the page that had some pictures of Grand Central Station. He was already trying to figure out why the kidnapper had picked that spot.
Joshua called Pack McHenry back and then rushed to tell him everything that had transpired. He also told him that he’d called FBI Agent Gallagher but hadn’t received any commitments about what he would do to help.
“Don’t worry about that,” McHenry said. “Gallagher’s a good man in a tough spot.”
“You know him?”
“Not directly. Gotta go. I’ve got a lot of homework to do for you.”
Just as Joshua was ending the call, the doorbell rang.
“Maybe that’s my pastor,” Abigail said and started for the door. But Joshua stopped her and signaled that he would answer it.
“Federal marshals are on their way over here,” Joshua whispered. “We need to check this out carefully…”
He looked through the peep-hole and saw a delivery man in a brown uniform holding a box the size of a small microwave.
Joshua swung open the door.
“Airmail delivery for Mr. Jordan,” the delivery guy said and handed him the box. Then he quickly added, “You’ve got to hurry, Mr. Jordan.” Then he turned and sprinted down the hallway.
After locking the door, and with Abigail and Rocky looking on, Joshua ripped open the box.
“What in the world…?” Abigail started to say as she looked inside. Joshua pulled out of the box what looked like a huge spool of cable encased within a black plastic cover with two handles on each side. At the bottom of the box there was a nylon vest for a grown man with heavy metal hooks attached.
A note in the box read:
Attach the end of the cable to something secure. One handle of the reel is to hold onto—the other is an emergency brake. Put on the vest, attach it to the cable, then lower yourself out the window and hit the release button. Enjoy the ride. The Patriot.
“So this is how he thinks I’m getting out of here?” Joshua said.
“When was the last time you did a rappelling exercise down a sheer cliff?” Rocky asked.
Joshua said, “Not since survival camp in the Air Force Academy.”
The doorbell rang again. This time, after two seconds, they heard someone pounding on the door. “Open up. Federal marshals!”
“I think you’re about to get a refresher course,” Rocky blurted out.
In the background they heard more pounding and warnings of “Open up! Federal marshals! We have a warrant! Open the door…”
“You’ve got to be there for Cal,” Abigail shouted. “Rescue him. Contact us.”
Rocky stuffed his own Allfone into Joshua’s pants pocket.
Joshua pulled the end of the cable out of the reel and looped it around a doorknob. Then he ran over to a window in the far bedroom. But the window swung outward only a few inches. It was locked from opening all the way by a safety bracket. Joshua grabbed the window and rammed it furiously back and forth.
“Stand back from the door!” one of the marshals yelled from his position in the hallway.
“Better hustle,” Rocky shouted. “They’re going to break down the door—”
With one final push Joshua busted the bracket and the narrow French window swung all of the way open. Joshua strapped himself into the vest, clipped it to the bottom of the reel, and then lowered himself out the window slowly, his feet steadying him on the window sill.
He looked down and saw miniature traffic and tiny pedestrians twenty-five stories below.
“Oh man. This looked like a good idea when it was in the box,” Joshua muttered.
Then he hit the release button and the big reel of cable started slowly letting out cable in a steady roll. Suspended by the unrolling cable and holding on to the handles, Joshua rappelled himself downward with his feet on the side of the hotel building about five feet at a time. From his position high in the air he could see Grand Central Station off in the distance, six blocks away.
Hold on Cal, he said in the air. I’m coming.
Floor by floor, he was descending along the side of the Palace Hotel that faced Park Avenue.
When he was about twenty feet from the ground, he could tell a crowd had gathered below him on the sidewalk. Someone was yelling at him.
When his feet were on the pavement, a few of the pedestrians started applauding.
A twenty-something guy in the crowd, with a backward baseball cap and carrying a duffel bag, kept shouting and pointing at Joshua. “I’m telling you, this is Magic Marvin! I seen the ad in the subway. The guy doing the escape stuff and all those magic tricks over at the Garden tonight. Way to go, dude!”
Joshua hit the “retract” button and the reel flew out of his hands, trailing the sling along with it, zipping upward twenty-five stories until it stopped outside the window of his hotel suite.
“Now I’ve seen everything…”
Trying to locate the voice, Joshua swung around. It was Pastor Paul Campbell.
“I can’t wait to hear about this one!” Campbell said.
“You have a car?”
“Just parked it down the street. On the way to your hotel—”
“Let’s get out of here,” Joshua shouted. “You’ve got to drive me somewhere.”
“I hope you can fill me in,” Campbell said as the two men started jogging toward the parking structure across the street. “Abigail said you folks are in a crisis.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Amazing coincidence that you came by when you did,” Joshua said as they ran down the parking ramp entrance.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Campbell shouted back, jogging next to him. Then he added, “But I do believe in the providence of God.”
“Okay,” Joshua said back. “I’ll take that.”