Sharp picked up the dynamite and tossed it up through the back window.

The last horseman watched, wide-eyed, as the sparkling stick seemed to levitate out of the rear of the truck and hang suspended for a moment.

The explosion killed him instantly, knocking him backward. The force also pushed down on the truck, crumpling the rear end and wedging it deeper into the stairwell.

“Sharp? I say, old chap!”

Bixby immediately climbed back up on the slanted hood and wiggled his way into the cab, then through the compartment window.

Finley turned to glare at the Verez sisters, farther down the stairs.

“Mist up there and check on him. He’s your leader!”

“We must wait, Lady Finley,” Hilda said, with a note of sorrow. “We can only do that so often, and then we must rest.”

Finley snorted in disgust, and climbed back up the stairs to the truck.

By that time, Bixby had crawled inside the crumpled passenger compartment. He found Sharp passed out, lying at an angle along the front wall.

Bixby reached down to put two fingers on Sharp’s neck, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse. He reached into his interspatial satchel and brought out a health potion.

“Bottoms up, old boy.”

He held Sharp’s chin with one hand poured the red liquid down the other man’s throat.

Sharp’s eyes fluttered open and he coughed.

“They could have made that taste better. Boffins have no consideration for palate.”

“Glad to have you back,” Bixby said, with a tiny note of concern creeping into his voice.

“Are you getting sentimental on me, Bixby?”

“Not at all, not at all. Let us make our way out before the peelers find this truck our sergeant has wedged in here, and begin making enquiries.”

Carefully, Sharp stood up. Bixby watched as he climbed through the partition and made his way into the cabin, then out and to the stairwell. Then he followed after.

“If you boys have finished having your fun, we can perhaps finally start on this venture,” Finley said.

Sharp said, “Yes, lets.”

Rip’s implant lit up with a message.

[You are now sharing a team mission: Explore the Ethinium Steam Vault.]

Hm. Easier said than done, Rip thought.

As one, the group headed down the steps. They heard police whistles blowing in the distance, rapidly nearing.

At the bottom of the stairs, once again they noticed the shorted electromagnet dangling from the ceiling, and the bent portcullis.

“Not in a hurry to fix things up around here, are they?” Chance said, gazing up.

Rip led the way into the tunnel to the right, arriving at the Septic Rats’ door first. Intent on raising his [Lock Picking] skill, he pulled out his picks before the others approached and went to work.

It took him a couple tries, but the bolt snicked back by the time the colonels walked up.

[Your skill in lock picking has increased by three points.]

He smiled in satisfaction as the door swung open. Whether he got more points on this door because it was more difficult than Blair’s guest cottage, or because they were on a mission, or because the door was meant to keep people like him out, he did not know.

Either way, he welcomed the boost in points. He held the door open for everybody as they filed in.

After they all went through, he closed the door and locked it behind them, earning another point.

“Heads up!”

Twig, having retrieved his .25 from Finley, shot a man wearing an old suit coat just as he fired a double-barreled shotgun at them.

Everyone ducked and the shot splattered harmlessly overhead.

“It works just fine, Lady Finley.”

“That was a lucky shot. And you weren’t in the back of a speeding truck, either.”

They moved through the cavernous room with tables and workbenches, eyes out for anyone else hiding amidst the clutter.

Twig made his way to the fallen Rat and looked at the shotgun. Shrugging, he put the weapon in his interspatial wallet then rifled through the man’s pockets, pulling out shotgun shells and a few coins.

On the other side of the room, the team members carefully approached the far door. Rip scanned it using [Detect Traps], although that remained his lowest skill. He knew they would rely more on Twig’s and Chance’s abilities.

This was the same door that had been rigged with explosives last time, taking out one of Lady Finley’s Fighters. A new one stood in its place, although scorch marks on either side bore mute testimony of the previous booby trap.

“It’s clear,” Twig said, after staring at the door for a long moment. “But of course, there may still be people behind it with guns. They would have been alerted by the shotgun blast.”

“We should clear it properly instead of letting the sergeant open it as before,” Bixby said, with a meaningful glance at Rip.

Rip said, “Sorry.”

But he really was not sorry for opening and relocking the first one, not after raising [Lock Picking] by four points.

Twig approached and took out his own picks while the others fanned out behind him, Tommy guns aimed at the door. He pulled back the bolt and put his hand on the latch while pulling out his .25.

With a nod, he pulled on the latch and swung the door wide open.

A fusillade of bullets from four guns pattered through the other side, striking Bixby and Finley. The arc of return fire by the team sliced through the opening, taking down three men instantly. The fourth scrambled out of the way when he saw his comrades fall.

Rip ran through the door first, his rifle ready to fire.

His [Detect Traps] skill pinged as he entered the small foyer leading to three different doors.

He slid to a stop and yelled, “Everybody stay back! It’s a—”

In a burst of [Vampiric Speed], Liza and Hilda darted into the room before he finished.

Rip looked up in time to see a huge silver net suspended from the ceiling. It dropped down on top of them as the door slammed shut.