For a moment Ross stood brooding. Then, quickly, he disconnected the lines that served the warehouse lights, leaving only the set that supplied the office area.
Moving into the lighted room, next, he looked about.
A case stood on the central table ... a neat black plastic cube perhaps six inches high.
Ross suddenly had trouble with his breathing. Not too steadily, he crossed to the table and opened the black cube.
A bracket in the top held a shiny aeroderm injector. Beyond that, the contents resembled a honeycomb—a honeycomb whose each cell was a glistening, hermetically-sealed plastic ampule.
Stiff-fingered, Ross closed and sealed the cube again and, gripping it tightly beneath his arm, hurried back to the office next to the street, the one through which he'd entered via the broken window.
In the darkness, something slithered. Ross jumped, then halted, grinning wryly. Going to the outer door, he unbolted and opened it.
Plates rattling, all six feet slithering, the bak scurried out into the night.
Warily, Ross once again surveyed the square outside.