The man stood, illuminated by a flash of lightning which made his ill-fitted lab coat glow. He had a nylon stocking stretched over his face, a wig of long, dark hair perched askew on his head, and a long metal tube in his right hand, which ended in two little points. It was a zoo keeper’s shock prod.
Wedging it under his arm, he climbed the grassy knoll to a steel shed marked: RUN/PADDOCK. The shed’s door had a small touchpad next to it. He entered the code and swiped his keycard through the slit. A green LED flashed on; the door buzzed. He turned the handle and pushed it open.
Twenty minutes, he thought, descending the chilly concrete stairwell. He had 20 minutes until security showed up. Unless he planned on repeating last night’s close call, he would have to hustle.
Reaching the bott
