A problem I often have, as a reader, is being set a "mystery" information about which seems to be basically around the corner. I cannot help but read faster and faster until I look up and notice I can't picture accurately the described events (which stairwell? what exactly is he doing with the broom?). This is not your fault. You told me which stairwell, and why the broom-thing is cool. However, somehow certain writers do something where the mystery/question and the pace and the prose all mesh together into a perfect cadence. Afterward, I find that not only can I recall every individual step in a plot or subplot, I can picture them, because I pictured them at the time -- all this despite myself, as it were. I'm not sure what to make of this. BAC up.
That's a clunky paragraph with about a dozen declarative sentences and twice as many clauses to say "he tied the cord to the broom and threw it at the thing." Maybe it's good to drag it out a little, but it reads like something from a screenwriter with OCD.
Perhaps more internal monologue, to translate what the narrator-described surroundings into simple terms. I generally think more words are better in situations like those, as long as they hold the reader's interest, because they slow down the sequence and enhance comprehension.