Free Lair of Killers by Will Molinar

side, near where the light from the door was.
    “So,” Becket said, “what does everyone remember? Be as detailed as you can.”
    “What’s the point of this inquiry?” Crocker said. “Hmm? We’ve been taken prisoner. What more is there to discuss?”
    ‘Damn you, Crocker,’ Becket thought. ‘Always so antagonistic. Why? Does it give you some kind of twisted pleasure?’
    “I believe what Master Becket is implying,” Haller said, “is that it behooves us to learn as much as possible from each other so as to better our situation.”
    Crocker scoffed. “Talk, talk. Phew! How do we free ourselves from this place?”
    “We do not even know where we are yet,” Haller said. “Where do you think they would take us, Master Becket?”
    “I don’t think it could be far from where they grabbed us. It would be time consuming to drag so many people like that. Maybe we’re in a warehouse near the shipping yards, though it doesn’t smell like it. There’d be some brine in the air if we were.” He turned his head and raised his voice. “Has anyone tried the doors?”
    They glanced towards the sliver of light at the floor of what must’ve been the door, and the closest person to it yanked at the handle. They heard nothing but the grunt of man’s exertion.
    “Locked tight,” he said. “Won’t move at all.”
    “Must be bolted from the other side.”
    “Oh really, Master Becket?” Crocker said. “Brilliant deduction.”
    “Shut up, Crocker. Let’s feel around for something else. Spread out but be careful. We don’t want to trip over each other, and who knows what might be on the floor. Haller, Miller, take a wall, gentlemen, and use some of the others to help you.”
    They went to it, stumbling in the darkness. Becket went to the door; ignoring Crocker’s sigh of annoyance, and dropped down to the edge of the light on the floor. He put his face close to the crack and tried to see out, but the angle was too narrow, and all he saw was more floor.
    Easing back to the center of the room, trying not to bash into anyone, Becket attempted to glean more information from his three colleagues.
    “It is a rectangular room,” Haller said. “I think it is fair to say this locked door is our only means of egress.”
    “There are crates,” Miller said, as if that explained everything. Becket pressed him for more. “You said it was a warehouse. Crates equals this is a warehouse.” Miller sounded as if he were explaining something to a child.
    Trying not to bristle, Becket nodded. “Fine, I was right then.”
    Crocker harrumphed. “Ha! Wonderful. And this incredible piece of information assists us in our plight how? Hmm, Master Miller? Do any of you realize how many warehouses there are in this city?”
    Becket could sense Miller’s frown in his reply. He sounded annoyed as if the question were either stupid or that he was upset the answer alluded him. “No. I have not had the chance to count them all.”
    Crocker clicked his teeth and started to say something, but Becket cut him off. “Hold on. I still want to know how each of us got here. Maybe we can piece together some common thread.”
    “All the good it will do you,” Crocker said.
    Becket bit back a snide remark. Arguing with the old fool would have only escalated a tense situation.
    Haller cleared his throat. “For my part, Master Becket, none of what happened is very clear. My memory is fuzzy, but I seem to recall reaching the outskirts of my compound, and then there was the flurry of activity behind me. I did not understand and then… someone must have struck me on the skull because my head is aching there.” He chuckled and Becket nodded, feeling how sore his own head was.
    There were similar stories from the rest of them, and they all matched his descriptions of the sketchy looking security men.
    “Yes,” Becket said. “They must have infiltrated our security system, including getting some of their uniforms.”
    Crocker heaved a sigh. The