Craig kicked it with all his might.
The door burst open. A guard reeled back, clutching his face where the swinging edge had struck him.
Craig kicked him, too—first in the belly; then, when he doubled over, in the face.
The guard crumpled; lay still.
Craig strode down the hall, trying doors. But the rooms they sealed were empty, unfinished.
Craig went back to the guard.
The man was moaning now. His fingers dug spasmodically at the naked tiles of the floor.
Dragging him erect, Craig shoved him back flat against the wall.
Slowly, the other's sagging head lifted. The glazed eyes cleared a little.
Craig held his voice cold and level: "Where's Zenaor?"