Free 02 Avalanche Pass by John Flanagan

at pistol-whipping. Understand?”
    His eyes moved around the lobby and, following their direction, Markus became aware of the other men who had arrived in the minivans with Kormann. There must have been twenty of them, spaced around the walls, standing back from the central area where the crowd was still gathering.
    There was a sameness to the look of them. A hard look. And each of them carried a shoulder bag. Markus had no doubt what would be in those bags. As his gaze passed over them, he caught sight of Tina Bowden entering the lobby. She saw him and started to thread her way through the crowd. But he made eye contact with her and gave a brief shake of his head. She stopped, frowning, then seemed to understand. Tina was listed on the staff roster as a relief receptionist. Her role as security officer was kept secret. There was no sense in letting these people know she was anything but a junior employee. He felt the pressure of Kormann’s hand on his arm moving him forward. He obeyed the implicit order and moved to face the crowd.
    “Please,” he began, then repeated the word a little louder so that it carried over their voices. “Please! Just bear with us. Mr. Kormann here is helping us with the situation. As he told you, there is no danger and we’ll just wait until everyone’s assembled. Just be patient and stay calm, all right?”
    “Is the mountain coming down?” It was a nervous female voice from near the back of the crowd. Markus forced himself to smile, trying to look reassuring. He was sure the effect must be ghastly.
    “No. The mountain is not coming down,” he replied, forcing his voice to be calm. “I’ll say it again. There is no danger. We do have a situation here and we’re asking for your cooperation. That’s all.”
    The buzz of conversation subsided a little. They weren’t convinced, he realized, but they knew this was all they were going to get for the moment. Markus noticed that Kormann was sweeping his gaze over the crowd, his lips moving fractionally as he counted heads. Seeming to be satisfied, he nodded to the men standing around the walls of the lobby. Without drawing any attention to themselves, half of the men moved away from the walls and headed down the corridor. Markus watched them going. There was nothing in that direction but the main room of the conference center.
    Kormann waited another minute, then nodded to the young manager.
    “Okay, I think we’re about all here. Let’s move them to the conference hall, Ben.”
    Markus frowned at him, uncomprehending. “The conference hall—” he began, then stopped as he saw the cold anger flash in the other man’s eyes. He hesitated, then tried again.
    “But there’s nothing there. We’re not set up for a conference,” he said. Again, Kormann leaned forward and said in that same forceful undertone: “Just get them in there, Ben.”
    Their gazes locked for a few seconds. Then the manager dropped his eyes, defeated. He moved a pace away from the other man, as if the physical separation could somehow lessen the threat he felt.
    “Okay, people!” he called, and again the buzz of conversation died away. “Let’s move out of here. Could you all please move to the conference center, main room.”
    They complained among themselves, as crowds do. They muttered. They questioned the direction. But they obeyed. Once the first few people drifted from the back of the crowd in the direction of the conference center, the trend was set. The movement became more definite, less haphazard, as those at the front of the room, realizingthey were now at a disadvantage, tried to push through to secure better positions in the new location.
    “Let’s go with ’em, Ben,” Kormann said with mock politeness, drawing aside and gesturing for Markus to precede him.
    They followed the milling crowd through the double doors that led to the conference center. As Markus had already pointed out, the large room was virtually unfurnished. There was a