Cooper took one final check to make sure that everyone was around the corner, then closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. The carbine bucked, and the world lit up behind his closed eyelids, and he heard nothing but a thunderous roar.
Hoping that did the job, he gave his eyes an extra couple seconds before he opened them. He felt no pain, so he assumed that no ricochets had clipped him. “Hey, bring that light up here,” Cooper called over his shoulder. He wasn’t worried about being too loud now. Anyone back there still chasing them would know exactly where they were from all the noise.
Angus shuffled around the corner, his footsteps and a muffled voice reached Cooper’s still-ringing ears. Cooper peered at the damaged boards. He took careful aim and launched another kick, this time succeeding in knocking loose two of the boards. They didn’t break or fall, but they moved—it was good enough for Cooper.
He had Angus slip around the corner again, taking the light with him, then pulled the trigger until his magazine emptied, another six or seven shots. This time, when Angus appeared around the corner and shone his light on the barrier, Cooper threw his shoulder at it and crashed through with a curse.
He picked himself up off the stone floor, brushing dust, splinters, and chunks of jagged wood off his clothes. Coughing, he called the others through. When Angus arrived with his light, they saw the new room was a continuation of the tunnel, ending with a set of roughhewn stone steps climbing up to the ceiling. Cooper motioned the others to stay quiet, then crept up the steps.
“You really think it matters?” Angus asked. “After all that?” he asked, shining the light on the ruined barrier and bits of wood and rocks strewn across the floor.
“Couldn’t hurt,” Cooper muttered. He reached the top step and placed a hand on the wood. It was cool to the touch and much smoother. It felt like it had a layer of dirt embedded in the surface, despite the fact that it was on the ceiling. “This wood is older…much older.” He pushed with his hand and the trapdoor covering the stairs raised up a quarter inch before meeting resistance.
Cooper saw a flash of light a split second before thunder rumbled. He let the door close again just as quietly as he’d opened it. “There’s a storm going on outside, and at least one window up there. It’s some kind of room.” He turned to Angus. “Any idea where we’re at?”
The cop stared at his phone. “I can’t get any GPS signal down here…no idea, mate.”
Cooper tried the door again. “Well, something’s sitting on top of this door. Something heavy enough that I can’t budge it just by pushing…”
“Can you see anything?” asked Tecumseh.
Cooper shook his head. “No sir, the edges of the door want to open, but something’s holding it down in the middle.”
“Maybe a piece of furniture?” suggested Tecumseh.
Cooper looked up at the door again, illuminated in the dim light of Angus’ cellphone. “Could be.”
“Help!” Tecumseh’s chief of staff suddenly hollered, surprising everyone. “We’re stuck down here! Can anyone hear me?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Cooper whispered.
“What does it matter if anyone hears us?” Eli shouted. “I’m bleeding out down here—we’ve got to get someone to help!”
“He has a point, Mr. Braaten. It’s not like shooting your way through that barrier back there did us any favors in the stealth department…” the senator said.
They all started shouting for help. After a few minutes, Cooper’s patience evaporated like their chances of being saved. “Fuck this,” he said. He threw his shoulder into the door and for a brief moment, it opened about two inches, then something heavy slammed back against it and drove him straight into the stone steps below.
Surprised at the force of the weight above him, Cooper lost his footing, twisted his right knee at an awkward angle, and crashed to the ground, knocking Tecumseh over with a yelp of surprise.
“Goddammit!” Cooper snarled, grabbing his right knee. Rage bubbled up in his chest. Shrugging off the pain from his recently healed and now re-injured knee, Cooper surged up the steps at full speed and threw all his weight against the door.
Whatever had been holding the door down tipped over and crashed to the sound of something delicate shattering into a million pieces. Cooper was beyond caring. The door came down one more time, but he was ready for it and launched himself up with all the power he could muster in his legs. The sudden change in motion was just what he needed, and a heavy dresser crashed to the ground on top of what was left of several vases. The door flung all the way open, clattering to the floor. Cooper found himself launched out of the hole and fell against the side of the heavy armoire.
“Got it open,” he called. Cooper dragged himself over the lip, then reached a hand down to help Tecumseh up, who dragged Eli up behind him. Angus was the last up out of the hole. Cooper dropped the empty rifle and drew his sidearm, shuffling over to the door on the far side of the small, stone-walled room. Next to the door was a small bed, neatly made with an old quilt. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a brown nightstand made of wood that looked as old as Edinburgh itself. A layer of dust covered everything and their footprints were the only evidence that anyone had been in the room for a long time.
Tecumseh froze, looking around. “This is a plague house.”
Eli, his chief of staff quailed in terror and backed up against the wall, pulling his shirt up over his mouth. “You’re going to get us all killed!” he said, glaring at Cooper.
Cooper smirked. “Feel free to go back down there if you want,” he said, gesturing at the hole in the floor. He turned back to the door, peering out the single small window next to Tecumseh. “I don’t see any movement out there—looks like we’re still on the Royal Mile somewhere.”
“Aye, so what’s next?” asked Angus as thunder crashed once more.
Cooper gripped the door knob. “Let’s see what the hell is going on.”