Chapter Two
One of the figures jerked a bag over his head. The other seized his arm, twisting it behind him and propelling him off the street and onto the grass of the park. “Not a sound,” a harsh voice whispered in his ear—a woman’s voice.
“Are you—” Art began nevertheless, then gasped and fell silent as his arm was given a painful jerk.
They hurried over the grass; stopped. He heard a scraping sound, then a hiss. His arm was released. It ached, and he rubbed it as the voice said. “There’s a ladder. Turn around. On your knees. Find the top rung.”
Breathing hard, he did as he was told. He felt the rung, eased himself backward, climbed down. He could tell there was someone below him; someone else came after. The hiss repeated, then the scrape.
A single fluorescent tube flickered to sic
