Balenger peered around the corner. They'd left the door open. From this angle, he could see their receding lights. As soon as he estimated that the three were far enough away, he would take a position on the stairs, aiming upward, providing cover while Vinnie, Rick, and Cora got the professor down the rest of the stairway, into the tunnel, and out of the building. We're almost finished, he told himself. Close. It was awfully close. But in a half hour, this'll be over.
Now, not even the slightest reflection from the lights was visible. Time to get going. He raised his hand to turn on the headlamp, then stiffened. The heat in his stomach was replaced by a surge of ice shooting along his veins, almost paralyzing him. A floorboard made a noise in the darkness. Not from behind him. Not from the group or from his own movement. The sound came from the floor in front of him.
He realized that they hadn't all gone up the stairs. Someone was standing in the darkness before him.
Alarms jangled in his mind. He remembered that he hadn't seen lights when he'd peered over the balustrade and shouted down to the whistler. At home in the dark. We like it here, the voice had said. What did that mean?
Again weight shifted on the floor. Balenger aimed at the sound.
Abruptly, a hard object crashed down on his gun hand. The unexpected impact shocked him, the pain making him groan. The gun was twisted from his hand. Something drove into his stomach, doubling him over, breath rushing from his lungs. His feet were kicked from under him. As he landed hard on the side of his head, a shoe rammed into his side. He rolled in the darkness, crashing against a wall.
"I got him!" a voice yelled.
"Who said that?" Cora called.
"And I got something else! A gun!"
Balenger heard the slide being racked, someone making sure a round was in the firing chamber. Damn it, they know how to handle firearms.
"Frank," the professor managed to say. "What happened?" He sounded helpless in the gloom. "Are you hurt?"
Footsteps rumbled down the stairs. Two people charged onto the balcony. But as Balenger peered up through pain-blurred eyes, he didn't see any lights. Have I gone blind? he wondered.
"Friggin' smart," a voice said.
"I told you it would work."
"You're ahead of me," a third voice said. "Let me give him a kick to catch up."
"As soon as we know who's who and what's what."
Why can't I see their lights? Balenger thought frantically. What happened to my head? At home in the dark. We like it here.
"What do you want?" Rick shouted.
"For you to shut up," the first voice said.
Balenger heard a groan. Someone struck the floor hard. Was it Rick?
"You won't let me hit anybody," the third voice said. "But you go ahead and whack the shit out of them."
"Okay, okay, the next one who doesn't listen, you get to play catch-up."
Balenger's head ached. He had the confused sense he was spinning in the darkness.
"Uh!" Cora shouted. "Somebody touched me!"
"Only us ghosts."
"I want all of you on the floor," a voice said.
"You heard him! On the floor!"
Vinnie groaned and fell. Then the professor, wailing in pain as he landed, no one there to hold him up.
"Take off your knapsacks," the first voice ordered.
"Stop touching me!" Cora yelled.
"Do what you're told!"
Balenger heard the rustle of knapsacks being removed.
"You, too, hero," the first voice said.
A metal object tapped Balenger's shoulder. Moving as quickly as his injured stomach and side would allow, he slipped off his knapsack.
"Let's see what we got," a voice said.
Balenger heard zippers being opened, objects dumped on the floor.
"Rope, duct tape, a crowbar, a Leatherman tool, equipment belts, a hammer, walkie-talkies, hard hats, headlamps, flashlights, tons of batteries. I have no idea what these meters are for. Hell, a person could open a hardware store with all this stuff," the third voice said.
"A first-aid kit. Candles. Matches. Look, candy bars." The second voice sounded excited.
Look? He said look. Balenger began to understand. He heard a wrapper being torn open, a bar being chewed noisily.
"Water bottles. But what's in these other bottles?"
Balenger heard a lid being unscrewed.
"Smells like… piss. These dummies are carrying piss around in bottles in their knapsacks!"
"Found another gun!" the third voice said. "What kind of… This thing's not real. It's a damned water pistol."
Balenger heard someone sniffing.
"Vinegar?" the third voice asked. "Is that what you've got in here? That's as stupid as carrying around piss."
"Piss and vinegar," the first voice said.
"Knives. Got plenty of knives."
Balenger felt a hand at his jeans. Before he could resist, his knife was unclipped from his pants pocket. His spare pistol magazine was yanked from a pouch on his belt.
"Yeah, a hardware store," the first voice said. "Or a knife-and-gun store."
Hands pawed and poked him, searching. "Found a cell phone."
"Me, too. They've all got one."
"Stop touching me!" Cora said.
"Hey, we gotta make sure you don't have weapons."
"In my underwear?"
"Leave her alone." Rick suddenly groaned. "Oh, Jesus, my nose. I think you broke my nose."
"That was the idea," the third voice said. "Anybody else got something to complain about?"
Except for the shriek of the wind far above them, the landing became silent.
"Finally, a little cooperation," the first voice said. "Okay, everybody, put your arms out in front of you."
Balenger heard a few hesitant movements.
"Hey, don't make me say it again!"
The movements became rapid. Balenger put his hands out. His right one hurt where it had been struck, but at least nothing seemed broken.
"Now press your wrists together," the first voice said.
Balenger knew what was coming. He'd suffered through an ordeal like this before, except that the darkness had come from a sack tied around his head. He still had nightmares about it. He wanted to scream, to fight. But he was powerless. Sweat soaking his clothes, he struggled not to hyperventilate.
Footsteps approached. He strained not to wince, anticipating a blow to his head. Instead, he felt duct tape on his wrists, heard the sticky sound of a strip being pulled off a coll. The tape got tighter and tighter.
"That'll hold you for a while," the second voice said.
The footsteps went away.
"What are you doing?" Cora said in alarm.
"Shut up and keep still, or I'll shove my hand in your pants again."
The only sounds became Cora's harsh breathing and the unpeeling of duct tape.
"Who's next? How about buddy boy with the broken nose?"
The tape made a repeated tearing sound.
"Now you, pal."
Balenger didn't know whether that referred to Vinnie or the professor.
"Hey, this old guy passed out," the second voice said.
From the pain when he fell and his leg hit the floor, Balenger thought. His fury helped distract him from his increasing fear, the terrible suffocating impression that he again had a sack tied around his head.
"Banged up as he is, he can't hurt us," the third voice said.
"Tape his wrists together anyway."
The professor moaned.
"Good," the first voice said. "Now let's have some light."