The Edinburgh Network – Betrayal, Love and Ancient Power
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 7: Morning Maneuvers
Part 1: The Escape
Saturday, 06:37, The Thistle and Crown Hostel
“The chimney stack,” Jenny whispered urgently, her librarian’s knowledge of Edinburgh’s architecture surfacing. “These old buildings share a central ventilation system from the Victorian era.”
Callum was already moving to the ancient fireplace, his tactical assessment quick and precise. “Connected to the neighboring buildings?”
“All the way down the Royal Mile,” she confirmed, quickly gathering their essential gear. “The Victorians modified the medieval smoke channels into a complete network.”
The footsteps grew closer, accompanied by the soft clicking of dog claws on wooden floors. A voice carried through the thin walls: “Third floor, west side. The dog’s certain.”
“Right then,” Callum pulled aside the decorative fireplace cover, revealing the larger Victorian shaft behind it. “Ladies first?”
“How romantic,” Jenny smiled tightly, already calculating their route. “Though I prefer our earlier activities.”
“Aye, well,” he helped her into the narrow opening, “next time I’ll book us something with a proper escape route.”
“Next time?” She paused, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.
“Focus on the climbing, lass,” but his grin was visible even in the dim light. “Unless you fancy explaining our ‘tactical planning’ to our Eastern European friends.”
06:38, The Thistle and Crown Hostel
The Victorian chimney shaft was surprisingly wide, its sooty walls offering decent handholds. Jenny led the way upward, Callum close behind as boots thundered in the corridor outside their room.
“Left at the next junction,” she whispered down. “The main stack runs parallel to the Mile.”
“Quite the architectural knowledge you’ve got,” Callum murmured, his voice echoing softly in the shaft. “Useful set of skills for a librarian.”
“Says the detective who knows Edinburgh’s underground cat population,” Jenny smiled despite their situation, reaching for another handhold.
A crash echoed from below – their room door being breached. Dogs began barking immediately.
“Move faster, lass,” Callum urged, his Scottish burr tightening with urgency. “They’ll figure out our route soon enough.”
“Almost to the junction,” Jenny reached the branching point. “Though I should mention…”
“What’s that?”
“The next part might be a bit… horizontal.”
“Horizontal?” His voice carried a mix of amusement and concern.
“Hope you’re not claustrophobic,” she started shimming sideways into the connecting shaft. “Victorian ventilation systems weren’t designed for escaping Eastern European pursuit teams.”
“Just another morning in Edinburgh,” he followed her lead. “Though next time, perhaps we could just get breakfast?”
06:40, Edinburgh’s Victorian Ventilation System
As they shimmied through the horizontal shaft, Jenny’s hand brushed against something damp on the sooty wall. Even in the dim light filtering through ancient vents, she could make out a dark smear.
“Callum,” she whispered, pausing her forward movement. “Your shoulder’s bleeding.”
“Ach,” he touched his right shoulder, wincing. “Must’ve caught it on that bloody pipe when the cat attacked. Didn’t even notice in all the… excitement after.”
The implications hit them both at the same time. The dogs weren’t tracking their escape route – they were following a blood trail.
“That’s why they found us so quickly,” Jenny’s voice was tight. “You’ve been marking our path since the underground.”
“Explains their confidence,” he grimaced, the Scottish burr in his voice deepening with frustration. “They didn’t need to guess – just follow the scent.”
“And now we’re leaving a nice trail through Edinburgh’s ventilation system,” Jenny’s mind raced ahead. “We need to…”
“Change tactics,” Callum finished. “Any chance these shafts lead somewhere with medical supplies?”
“Actually…” Jenny smiled in the darkness. “The old Royal Infirmary used this same system. There’s an abandoned wing just two junctions ahead.”
“Lead on then, lass. Before we paint a bloody map for our friends to follow.”
Part 2: Healing Hands
Saturday, 06:45, Abandoned Royal Infirmary Wing
“Hold still,” Jenny whispered, her fingers working with practiced precision as she cleaned Callum’s shoulder wound. The abandoned hospital supply room had yielded surprising treasures – including still-sealed medical supplies left during the hasty relocation.
“Quite good at this for a librarian,” Callum murmured, watching her work in the grey morning light filtering through dusty windows.
“Library science includes preservation techniques,” she dabbed antiseptic on the cut, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. “Though usually I’m handling damaged manuscripts, not stubborn Scottish detectives.”
“Ach, I’ve had worse,” but his attempt at nonchalance was undermined by another wince as she applied pressure.
“From other demon cats, was it?” Jenny’s smile was gentle as she began wrapping the bandage. “Or is this a regular hazard of Edinburgh police work?”
“The cats are new,” he admitted, his grey eyes watching her face as she worked. “Though the company’s never been this pleasant during patch-ups.”
“Flirting while bleeding out?” She secured the bandage with medical tape. “Very Scottish of you.”
“Not bleeding out anymore, thanks to you,” his hand caught hers as she finished. “Though we should move soon. They’ll figure out this route eventually.”
“Five more minutes,” Jenny insisted, checking her handiwork. “Unless you fancy leaving another trail for those dogs.”
Saturday, 06:48, Abandoned Royal Infirmary Wing
While Jenny finished securing the bandage, Callum’s tactical awareness caught something interesting in the shadowed corner of the supply room.
“Well now, what do we have here?” He moved carefully to investigate, mindful of his freshly bandaged shoulder.
Behind a toppled filing cabinet, they discovered a maintenance worker’s locker, its door hanging loose on rusted hinges. Inside hung a pair of faded blue coveralls with the Royal Infirmary logo.
“Emergency staff uniforms,” Jenny realized, pulling them out. “And look – old security passes.”
“Expired, but the basic design hasn’t changed much,” Callum examined one of the badges. “Might get us past casual observation, at least.”
“There’s more,” Jenny reached deeper into the locker. “Maintenance keys, building plans…” She paused, pulling out a dusty clipboard. “And a complete layout of the hospital’s connection to the old banking sector.”
“The banks used hospital access tunnels?”
“Edinburgh’s elite needed discrete medical care,” Jenny’s librarian knowledge surfaced. “These tunnels let them visit doctors without public knowledge. Especially during the Victorian banking crashes.”
“Discrete tunnels built for bankers having financial crises,” Callum’s eyes lit up. “That could be rather useful for our current situation.”
Saturday, 06:50, Abandoned Royal Infirmary Wing
“These might be a bit large,” Jenny held up one of the coveralls against herself, the faded blue fabric hanging loose.
“Better too large than too small,” Callum was already stepping into his pair, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his shoulder. “Roll up the legs, and it’ll pass casual inspection.”
Jenny quickly changed, trying not to think about their intimate moments just an hour ago as she watched him button up the uniform. The coveralls transformed them from fugitives to maintenance staff in moments.
“Your turn,” he handed her a security badge. “Margaret Wilson, Maintenance Division. Think you can pull off being a Maggie?”
“Better than you managing a James Campbell,” she nodded at his badge, adjusting her hair into a more practical style. “Though that Scottish accent of yours might help.”
“Aye, that it might,” he grinned, then turned serious. “Keys?”
“Full set,” she handed them over, the metal warm from her palm. “And I’ve memorized the tunnel layout. We’ll want the service route that connects to the old Union Bank building.”
“Lead the way then, ‘Maggie’,” Callum clipped his badge to his chest. “Just remember – maintenance workers don’t run. They walk with purpose, like they’ve got a blocked drain to deal with.”
“Speaking from experience?” She raised an eyebrow, gathering their essential gear into a maintenance tool bag.
“You’d be surprised what makes for good cover in detective work,” he checked the corridor through the dusty window. “Ready?”
Part 3: Walking the Walk
Saturday, 06:55, Royal Infirmary Corridors
Their first test came sooner than expected. As they rounded the corner into the main corridor, a security guard was making his morning rounds, coffee cup in hand.
“Bit early for maintenance,” he called out, his Edinburgh accent thick with early morning grumpiness.
“Aye, tell that to the blocked drain in Cardiology,” Callum replied without missing a beat, his Scottish burr perfectly matching the guard’s local tone. “Some bright spark flushed their latex gloves again.”
Jenny kept her eyes on the clipboard she’d grabbed, playing the role of junior maintenance worker learning the ropes.
“Third time this month,” the guard shook his head sympathetically. “You’d think doctors would know better.”
“That’s why they pay us the big bucks, eh?” Callum patted his tool bag. “Though between you and me, mate, I’d rather deal with blocked drains than entitled surgeons.”
The guard’s laugh echoed down the corridor. “Ain’t that the truth. Well, don’t let me keep you. That drain won’t unblock itself.”
“Right enough,” Callum nodded, then turned to Jenny. “Come on, lass- er, Maggie. Show me where you spotted that overflow.”
They maintained their steady, purposeful pace until the guard’s footsteps faded around the corner.
“Entitled surgeons?” Jenny whispered, fighting a smile.
“Always go for specific complaints,” Callum murmured back. “Makes the cover more believable.”
Saturday, 06:58, Royal Infirmary Corridors
Their brief moment of relief was shattered by the sound of multiple footsteps entering the hospital’s main entrance. Through the frosted glass panels, they could make out the silhouettes of men moving with military precision.
“Four-man team,” Callum assessed quietly, pulling Jenny behind a supply trolley. “Standard search formation.”
“And dogs,” Jenny added, hearing the soft click of claws on linoleum. “But the blood trail should be cold now.”
They watched as one of the men approached the security guard they’d just spoken with, producing what looked like official identification.
“Private security,” the accented voice carried clearly. “We’re tracking potential intruders. Have you seen any maintenance workers this morning?”
The guard’s response made Jenny’s heart skip. “Aye, just passed a pair heading to Cardiology. Something about blocked drains.”
“Bloody hell,” Callum breathed, his Scottish burr barely audible. “Time for plan B.”
“We have a plan B?”
“Aye,” he grabbed her hand, already moving toward a service door. “Run like hell and look professional doing it.”
Behind them, they heard the guard’s confused voice: “Hang on – why’s private security got police dogs?”
Saturday, 06:59, Royal Infirmary Service Tunnels
The silenced shot made a sound like a heavy book dropping onto carpet – a muffled thump that shouldn’t have existed in a civilian hospital. The security guard’s surprised grunt echoed through the corridor behind them.
“Bloody hell,” Callum’s grip on Jenny’s hand tightened as they ran. “They’re not even pretending anymore.”
Their footsteps thundered through the service tunnel, the maintenance coveralls swishing with each stride. Emergency lights cast alternating patterns of shadow and sickly green illumination.
“They shot him,” Jenny’s breath came in gasps. “They actually shot a hospital security guard.”
“Aye, and they’ll do worse to us,” Callum’s voice was grim. “These aren’t Mark’s usual contractors. This is something else entirely.”
Another muffled shot pinged off metal somewhere behind them, followed by rapid footsteps and the clicking of dog claws on concrete.
“Left here,” Jenny pulled him down a narrower passage. “The banking tunnel access is three junctions ahead.”
“They’re not just trying to catch us anymore,” Callum’s professional assessment was cut short by another silenced round striking sparks off the wall beside them. “They’re here to clean up loose ends.”
Saturday, 07:01, Royal Infirmary Service Tunnels
The service tunnel ended in a solid wall of Victorian brickwork, ancient mortar mocking their desperate flight.
“No,” Jenny’s hands pressed against the cold stones. “This can’t be right. The plans showed a connection here.”
Callum spun to face the way they’d come, his body instinctively positioning itself between Jenny and the approaching danger. The sound of pursuit echoed through the tunnels – measured, professional footsteps drawing closer.
“Think, lass,” his Scottish burr was tight with urgency. “You’re the expert on Edinburgh’s underground. There has to be something…”
“The dogs are almost here.”
