But they did
not take the elevator downstairs. Instead, they climbed two or three
flights up the emergency stairs. And to his humiliation Ross found
himself panting and slowing, while the other man, who must have been a
good dozen years his senior, showed no signs of discomfort.
They came out into the snow on the roof, and the major flashed a torch
skyward, guiding in a dark shadow which touched down before them. A
helicopter! For the first time Ross began to doubt the wisdom of his
choice.
"On your way, Murdock!" The voice was impersonal enough, but that very
impersonality got under one's skin.
Bundled into the machine between the silent major and an equally quiet
pilot in uniform, Ross was lifted over the city, whose ways he knew as
well as he knew the lines on his own palm, into the unknown he was
already beginning to regard dubiously. The lighted streets and
buildings, their outlines softened by the soft wet snow, fell out of
sight. Now they could mark the outer highways.
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