Then he paused to think.
One glance told him his instinctive action had been correct. The man in the center had been Pietro Musto, carrying a carving knife. The other two ... yes, they had been in the group that had arrived this afternoon.
But what was wrong? He had watched these men being conditioned....
A burst from a submachine gun echoed through the open door.
First thought: They've got the armory!
Second thought: This is no place for me!
He picked up his desk chair and smashed the picture window looking out over the moat on the west side. Then he smashed with the chair again to remove the fragments that stuck up like jagged knives.
A quick leap over the sill into the darkness, a twenty-foot sprint, and he was able to throw himself down on the steep slope that five feet farther on became the moat.
Just in time, he discovered. When he peered through the sparse grass, he could see two men in his office. One had a shotgun, the other a rifle. The man with the rifle lifted it to his shoulder and fired into the ceiling.
Most of the staff, all but six of the guards up there, Bennington thought.