Through the pitch black of the corridor the beams of light and rushing feet descended on Bosak like the Furies. Before he knew it, a blinding flash hit him in the face and he shrunk backwards, shielding his eyes.

“That’s him!” a muffled voice barked through a SWAT mask. “Mister President, I’m Lieutenant Kevin Hale with RoboGuard SSI. I need you to accompany us.” An armored hand gripped his shoulder. “We must get to safety and contain the situation. Your office is five stories up and the most defensive position in the building. Do you think you make the climb?”

Bosak blinked warily, still half-blind from the flashlights and then nodded. Suddenly, a subdued singing could be heard at the opposite wing of the hall, accompanied by grunting and heavy footfalls. “What the hell is that?” He waved yonder.

“Don’t know. Martins! End of the hall—check it out!” Hale commanded. The point man scurried down the hall, just as the exit door swung open, emergency lighting casting a three-headed silhouette onto the hallway floor.

“Oh, shit!” cried a gruff voice as the silhouette disappeared behind the slamming door. The point man crashed helmet first into the door and bounced back onto the carpet.

“Martins! Who were they?”

Martins shook his head, regaining his equanimity. “Definitely not ours, Lieutenant. Three men, one out of commission. They’ve locked the door!”

“Damn! Could be anything, but we’ll play this one safe. Radio McCulloch up top and Zimbardo below. Tell them to keep a look out for our mystery guests. May be wounded.”

“Yes, sir!” Martins tapped his temple and spoke rapidly into his communicator.

“Alright. We aren’t safe here, Mister President. Stay in the middle and follow me. Martins, bring up the rear!”

As one man, the squad moved down the hallway to the other stairwell. Hale’s new point man kicked in the door and together they zipped methodically up to the safety of Bosak’s sanctuary.