Programmed for Peril

flashlight winked on, its lens filtered red. One of the men dragged her into a chair. She glimpsed his shadowy face. Not Carson! Oh, not Carson. Thank heavens!
    The other’s voice was strange, too. “Carson said he wanted you to see what we do to your lab.”
    She groaned into the gag. The shorter man held a long crowbar. He approached her, bar horizontal, heavy point first. He jabbed it lightly at her chest, then nudged it between her thighs. “Maybe we’ll do something to you, too.”
    Trish felt her strength drain. She sagged in the chair. The shorter man was about to use the bar to smash screens and club instrument cases. With despair she understood that they were going to destroy everything they could. This violence would shove PC-Pros still further toward ruin.
    When they finished with the apparatus, would they then turn a different kind of attention to her?
    “Hey, look!” The taller man pointed toward the window.
    Standing square in the window’s center was a man with a flashlight turned on his face. In the reddish glow he looked like a Halloween fiend sent forth to torment her soul.
    It was Carson!
    Her shriek, muffled by rag, left her mouth a hissing wail.
    Closer, closer he was coming to her. Now a mere twenty yards. Maybe tomorrow twenty feet. The next day... She kicked and heaved in fear. Her assailants’ chuckles were dark as a cave.
    All before her, present and future, was bleak and hopeless as a bombed-out city.
    “Hey, clowns!”
    Trish’s head spun toward the familiar voice. Dino Castelli!
    He stood for an instant in the doorway, then charged into the lab. The short man swung the bar at him. Dino dodged it nimbly and sent a kick into the exposed stomach. The short man whooooshed and fell to his knees. Dino turned and found the other man rushing at him. They came together with the whup of football linemen. The two went down, rolling and cursing on the floor. Dino broke free but was pulled down.
    From beneath his jacket a longish object fell free and clattered to the floor, coming to a stop near a fallen flashlight.
    It was a sawed-off shotgun.
    The short man recovered his wind and stood shakily. Trish had worked the gag out of her mouth with her tongue. She shouted, “Dino. Watch out! He’s up!”
    Dino lashed out at the intruder’s throat with stiffened fingers. He choked and clawed at his neck. Dino dived free and scrambled toward the shotgun. The other man got up and kicked it away. A knife appeared in his hand, gleaming even in the weak light. “Gonna cut you!” He advanced, right arm ahead, in a shuffling step. Dino retreated. They moved soundlessly. The only sound in the lab was the short man’s choking noises.
    Though she was staring with all her concentration, Trish didn’t clearly see the knife thrust. The next moment Dino was gripping the knife man’s wrist in his right hand. A shift and twist and the knife wielder screamed. His weapon fell to the floor. Dino sent him sprawling and began to grope in the shadows for the shotgun.
    Trish’s eyes rose to the window. Though his flashlight was off, Carson still stood in the dimness, peering in. “Dino! Carson’s outside. Carson!”
    “What the hell can I do about it now?” he shouted.
    Both men were on their feet. They ran for the exit as Dino rose, shotgun in hands.
    They burst out the door as the shotgun blasted, a violent thump that fell on Trish’s ears like a fist. One of the men screamed, but both kept running. Dino ran out after them.
    “Dino, go after Carson. Get Carson!’’
    He sprinted out of sight. Trish’s eyes spun back to the window. Carson was gone. Get him, Dino. Get him!
    And if he didn’t? What if Carson the cunning somehow overcame him? She would be defenseless. The two men, maybe Carson with them, would return to pay her and the lab their very special attentions!
    She squirmed. The tape was tight as wire. Fear just short of panic flared again in her chest. She eased herself off the chair and began to wriggle across the floor. There were phones in the lab, but she didn’t know where. In the next area there was one on every desk.
    She had to call the police!
    She sat up on the floor, drew up her legs, and shoved. Her sneakers found grip on the carpeting. She heaved and scooted her rear along a foot or so. Anxiety gave her strength. She felt the heat of friction through her jumpsuit. Shortly she was through the door and in the next area. The darkness confused her. She tried to slide into a cubicle