He leaned into the car, dragged Zoe out, and hoisted her over his shoulder. She struggled feebly, but he took no notice, handling her with the impersonal indifference of a slaughterman preparing cattle for the hammer.
‘Give it to me,’ he went on to Rico, and snatched the light from him. ‘Come on.’
‘Where’re we going?’ Rico mut ered, staring up at the building.
‘A place I know,’ Baird said. ‘Come on and stop yapping.’
Rico followed him through an archway into a long, dark passage. The uneven floor was strewn with refuse; an evil smell came out of the passage and sickened Rico. As they moved slowly forward, he could hear the rustle of rats ahead of them. Huge spiders scuttled into the shadows as Baird flashed his light up to the ceiling.
At the end of the passage they came to a flight of stone steps that eventually brought them into a vast barn of a room full of packing-cases, barrels, litter and the smell of damp and decay.
Baird lowered Zoe to the floor, and as he straightened up he swung the beam of his flashlight around.
‘Safe enough,’ he said under his breath. ‘No one is likely to hear her.’
Rico didn’t say anything. He leaned against one of the rot ing packing-cases and stared at Baird in horror.
No one is likely to hear her.