“You think that’s the plan?”
“Well, I don’t think those two guys were with the FBI or the NYPD, do you?”
“Come to think of it, I don’t believe either of those groups ordinarily arms its people with sawed-off shotguns.”
“Well, that’s an astute observation.”
“It’s the best I can do in the dark.”
A light came on. It was a tiny flashlight, and Holly was holding it.
“You always carry a flashlight?”
“It’s on my key ring,” she said, aiming it around the room. All four walls were brick, and the floor concrete, with a large drain in the middle. Along the ceiling was a row of meat hooks.
“Uh-oh,” Stone said.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me ‘nothing’; what?”
“Turn off the light and save the batteries for when we need them.”
“Need them for what?”
“For seeing.”
“We need them now for seeing.”
“There’s nothing to see.”
“There’s those hooks. I don’t like the look of them.”
“Me, either. That’s why I said, ‘uh-oh.’ ”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got to get out of here,” she said.
“I’d appreciate your thoughts on just how to do that.”
There was a long silence.
“Well?”
“I’m thinking about it,” she said.
Stone put his hand against the door and pushed. “Solid oak,” he said. “Firmly bolted.”
“Maybe if we both put our shoulders against it?”
“We’d bruise our shoulders quite badly.”
“What would you suggest?”