CHAPTER V
Flight
It was not strange that in this moment of peril, when the chips were down, Ramey Winters should be the one to seize the reins of command. He was a soldier, a trained fighting man. It was sheer instinct that spurred him into action. Once, several hours before, he had studied this room with the wondering eyes of one baffled by mystery. Now he studied it again, this time with the sharp, critical gaze of a fighter appraising a salient.
The hall in which they stood was a closed square, roughly, fifty by fifty, on the lowest level of the temple. Its walls were two feet thick, and it had no windows, but it was still precariously vulnerable because at the center of each of three walls gaped wide, arched doorways, and the fourth wall was fed by a smaller entrance.
Ramey asked swiftly, "These doorways—where do they lead?"
Syd O'Brien pointed to each in turn. "North wall—outer staircases from the moat. West wall—terrace. The south entrance is the way we came in. The little door leads to the inner court. They'll come from the west and south."
"Okay. That's where we'll concentrate our defense. Red—you and Lake and Dr. Aiken guard the west entrance. Syd and Grinnell and I will hold the south."
"How about me?" demanded Sheila Aiken angrily. "I'm as good a shot as—"
"You have the most important job of all," Ramey told her grimly. "Keeping the guns loaded for us. Put all the guns and ammunition on the table between us. Here—" With a heave he cleared the surface of a massive laboratory desk. Dr. Aiken winced as piles of carefully sorted ceramics, heaps of precious notes, spilled helter-skelter to the floor. "Sirabhar will help you. I suppose we can't count on Sheng-ti. No? Then you and Sirabhar will have to keep an eye on the north and east entrances. Not much chance of their getting in that way, but—"
Red said, "Lot of furniture in this room, Ramey. Chairs and tables and stuff. Make good barricades."