“Standard ops, Mr. Chance. Pull back inside and we’ll work the door. We’ll mow them down as they come in, just as before. Lady Brooke and Sergeant Coulter can take the high ground and shoot down on them.”

“One problem, sir. I don’t think we have enough bullets to take all these on.”

“What? Preposterous. Let me see what we’re up against.”

Bixby waved Chance aside and cracked open the door. He stuck his head out and quickly pulled back in as shots fired, bouncing off the curving corridor’s walls.

“I daresay you’re right, Mr. Chance. There’s far too many coming our way. Since Level 13 is our objective, where all sources indicate the boffin is being held, of course they would mass the most defenses here. Bah. Bother.”

The tromping noises increased in intensity.

“How many are we looking at? I mean, four machine guns is pretty significant," Rip said.

“I couldn’t see the end of the line, Sergeant. I fear we’ll run out of bullets before they run out of troopers. It’s a right sorry dilemma, sad to say.”

“Lord Bixby, might I have a match, please?”

“Of course, Mr. Chance. Of course.”

Bixby touched the many pockets on his vest and trousers, finally producing a lone match before turning back to face Rip.

“As I was saying, Sergeant, our best bet might be to go back and grab all the ammunition we can find from that last spot of bother upstairs. Even then, it will be passing close. But if we each brought down half a dozen or so of those broomhandle guns . . .”

Chance lit the match while the Colonel spoke. He stopped speaking when he heard a hissing sound.

The smaller man held up a huge bundle of dynamite, the fuse merrily sparking away.

“Good heavens, man!”

“It’s every stick I’ve got, sir. Let’s give it a go and see how many we can blast away.”

Chance approached the door again. The sound of boots marching on metal sounded much closer now.

He yanked open the door and tossed the bundle of dynamite underhanded down the corridor, ignoring a hail of bullets.

He slammed the door shut again and backed away.

“Duck!”

He turned around and covered his ears. The others followed suit.

An enormous explosion roared in the corridor, pressing in on the metal walls to the side of the door.

Chance turned and laughed in delight.

Blair narrowed her eyes and said, “I hope we don’t need anymore dynamite on this mission, now that you’ve tossed our last sticks.”

But Chance waved her off.

“It was worth it, Lady Brooke, believe me. We’ll shoot our way out of whatever trouble comes knockin’.”

He walked over to the door and pulled it open. Thick clouds of gray smoke billowed through.

Coughing, he shut the door again.

“We should probably give the ventilation system a bit of time, yeah?”

Blair turned to Bixby and said, “Which way do we need to go, when we head out there? They came from the right.”

“We’re headed left, actually. Back in the direction we came from upstairs. According to the map our sources gave me, Dr. Oggolopoli is being held about where we were, only on this level instead of the one above.”

“Getting out is going to be a pain,” Chance grumbled. “It’s a long walk.”

“Once we get back top side, Mr. Powell will be waiting to pick us up in the airship. We’ll cross that river when the time comes. The door again, if you please, Mr. Chance.”

The infiltrator approached the metal door once more and pulled it open. This time, only a bit of smoke wafted in.

He popped his head out and looked up and down the corridor.

“It’s clear, sir.”

“Right. Let us be on with it.”

He followed Chance out into the hall. Blair and Rip brought up the rear as before.

When he stepped outside the room, Rip winced at the number of bodies. The walls looked scorched, and bloody. Corpse after burned corpse lined the hall floor for several yards.

“Should we check the bodies, Lord Bixby? There might something worth scavenging there.”

“I think not, Lady Brooke. These are not elite troops, and our objective is hopefully nearby. Let us make haste.”

Bixby and Chance again headed down the hall, guns at the ready. Blair and Rip followed.

Rip could not put his finger on it, but the atmosphere on this level felt different somehow.

He shrugged it off, chalking it up to the recently exploded dynamite.

After an uneventful trek, with no more sewer troopers or corrupt workers in sight, Bixby at last called a halt next to a door.

“This is the one,” he said. “There’s a ‘do not enter’ symbol.”

The colonel pointed to a red circle with a slash through it painted on the door.

“Yeah, let’s get this open,” Chance said, pulling out the keychain. But none of the keys seemed to fit. He cycled through them all before giving up.

“I guess it’s back to the lock picks, yeah?”

“This worked for me upstairs,” Rip said, pulling out the enhanced wrench.

He motioned for Chance to give him some room and he gave the handle a good thwack.

The door popped open.

“Enhanced items are marvelous things,” Bixby said in an approving tone.

Chance elbowed Rip out of the way and poked his gun barrel through.

Behind the door, a mechanical voice called out.

“Danger! Intruders! Stand back!”

Rip’s eyes narrowed to slits. The voice sounded electronic and tinny.

“Is that an old robot?”

“It’s a guardian statue,” Blair grumbled. “And Mr. Let’s-Kill-Them-All At Once used up all our dynamite.”

“I solved a problem!” Chance replied in an annoyed tone.

A huge boom sounded inside the room, and a hole appeared in the wall to the side of the door.