Crosby Snatch Block Novels & Stories

Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, Jack rubbed his hands together and dashed into the elevator. Cyrus remained calm on the sofa and hummed a little tune as he reached under the coffee table. He pulled out a compact hunting crossbow, the kind designed for wild boar or beasts weighing 600 pounds. An 8-inch bolt from this thing could pierce a thick hide and embed itself in the flesh. He whistled softly while sliding a bolt into place. After weeks of practice, he was already proficient. Within 50 feet, he might not hit a bullseye every time, but a melon-sized head? He wouldn't miss it.

"Why?" "Because this isn't really the job it was designed for. It's a line-thrower but it's intended to be fired horizontally; for sea rescue and similar. I have to get it up and over one of those brackets so the line will catch. Then we can follow on with a rope to take real weight. This stuff's good to one-twenty pounds. Not enough to take me and certainly not enough for you." "Why just one of the brackets? Why not aim to straddle two or more if you can, then there's more than a single support if one of them fails?"

[Alice's POV] The snap I had been waiting for didn't come. Instead, there was a different sound; not the shriek of a snapping cable, but a clank. Metallic. Mechanical. Coming from above me. I opened my eyes. Someone was at the anchor point. A figure in dark clothing, helmet, tactical harness — one of the security team. He had attached a secondary cable to the winch mechanism, a thick braided steel rope that ran back to a vehicle at the edge of the bridge. A winch truck. They had brought a winch truck, and they were running a stabilization line to my anchor point, trying to arrest the drop before the original cable failed entirely.

Securing the ends with a heavy-duty carabiner. At the centre of the room sits a custom-forged metal block. I clip the carabiner to the 150-kilogram weight, letting it dangle from my waist. The pull-up bar overhead gleams like a challenge, and I reach for it, my fingers wrapping around the cold metal until it groans in protest.