At first he thought the air hose wouldn’t be long enough. But then he got it uncoiled and all the way up into the lantern, and he found that it was long enough, by at least a couple of feet. He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and to listen to the shouting and banging below the trap. It seemed to be just one voice now-Seth Bonner’s. Were the others still down there with him? Or were they up to something else?
I’m going to have to go through with it, he thought.
He moved sideways to the glass wall, looked out. Two-thirds of the garage was burning now, but so far the wind hadn’t spread it any farther. He scanned the area for some sign of the other men; but his headache was worsening and now his vision had started to kick in and out of focus, especially when he tried to look at anything in the distance. If they were out there, where were they? Up to something, damn it. The thought freshened his sense of urgency, drove him away from the glass and down the stairs again to the lightroom.
He had anchored the diaphone in the doorway, using the barrel of fire sand to wedge it against the jamb with its flanged mouth pointing downward. He’d loosely connected the air line; now he tightened the connection. Straightening again, he stepped over the diaphone and lifted the heavy bulk of the compressor. Struggled with it up the stairs into the lantern.
When he set the compressor down he found himself looking at the Fresnel lens. And he felt twinges of both pain and reluctance. The vibration, even using the smallest possible volume of air, would be tremendous-enough to shatter every prism and bull’s-eye in the lens. Shatter all the glass in the lantern walls, too. And the noise, trapped in the confines of the tower… it might burst his eardrums as well as those of the men below. He had the cotton and the pillows and bedclothes for protection, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be deafened, or hurt by flying glass or in some other way. And what if all four weren’t inside the lighthouse when he was ready?
Too dangerous, he thought grimly. Too problematical. Keep waiting
… do it only if the situation becomes critical.
But suppose I don’t know it’s critical until too late?
Goddamn them, what are they up to?
And he thought again: Sooner or later I’m going to have to go through with it.