She hadn't been about to shimmy down this death trap without first knowing there was somebody inside. But once she heard the return shout hailing from below, James reached forward to grab an elevator cable with her hand. Leaning out over the dangerous pit and shouting again. "I'm going to come down!"
Although James pulled back a moment later, barely catching her hand on the side of the partially skewed elevator door. Righting her balance and managing not to tumble into the deep nothingness. The elevator cables were a rough steel, and what she really needed was some rappelling gear. Which she remembered from girl scout camp in seventh grade. But what she settled for, after returning to her apartment once more, was a pair of vinyl opera gloves. They'd do.
Kicking the crowbar into the elevator shaft, she heard it clang noisily onto the roof of the elevator after a silent fall. James wasn't sure if the victim of architecture would be able to open the roof, and it was better to have it down there just in case.
And then, crossing herself twice, she reached for the cable with one gloved hand, and then the other. Swinging out with slim weight and instantly sliding a quick fifteen feet before she was able to dig the heels of her running shoes into the cable, effectively stopping herself from dying.
After that initial mishap, and a long moment to catch her breath, James shimmied down the rest of the way. It was actually easier than she imagined, although it was no pole dance. There was very little grace in it, up until the moment she hopped the last couple of feet and landed on the ceiling of the elevator.
"Do you see a panel to open the ceiling?" It worked in the movies, but she wasn't really sure how real life elevators worked. But there was a crowbar if she had to get gangster on it.