“Go!” He stripped off the safety band and pulled the pin.
Alex scampered up the tiers to the top. There was nothing to hide behind, but she flattened herself on the floor and covered her head.
Dane rolled Hancock on his side and placed the grenade into the space between the body and the corner of the car. He let the spoon fly, dropped the grenade, rolled Hancock back, and then scrambled away, all in the space a single second.
The car continued to jolt and rattle along the track for what seemed like an eternity. The grenade had a five second fuse — Hancock had probably cooked his off for a couple seconds before throwing it to ensure that Ray wouldn’t have time to kick it back at him — and five seconds seemed like an eternity.
How far away was the passing loop? Would they hit it before the explosion? Would they—
The second blast felt nothing like the first. The earlier damage to the car allowed much of the pressure wave to radiate harmlessly away. Hancock’s body caught most of the shrapnel and what little got past was directed straight up; none of it came anywhere near Dane and Alex. The explosion however, did exactly what Dane hoped it would. The front end of the car burst open like a balloon, throwing pieces of metal and plastic debris out onto the tracks ahead of the car. None of the pieces was large enough to derail it, but the debris quickly piled up in front of the wheels, supplying just enough friction to slow the downward plunge.
But not enough to stop it.
Dane lifted his head and looked out behind them. The railroad ties were still flashing past, though not too fast for him to distinguish each one. How fast then? Twenty miles an hour? Less?
It would have to be enough.
He pointed to the platform still dangling behind the car, skipping along the tops of the tracks. “We’re going to climb down onto that!”
She nodded to signal her comprehension.
He made the first move, reaching his foot out cautiously, as if attempting to cross a stream on stepping stones. Too slow, he told himself. Too cautious.
His foot came down, his weight pushing the platform onto the rails. The damaged bracket holding it fast shrieked in protest and for an instant, he thought the added friction would cause the whole thing to tear away. He eased back, and instead threw his body forward, diving onto it, arms and legs spread out so that he wouldn’t fall off.
The platform shuddered beneath him as it was driven down onto the rails, but he rolled over and shouted, “Jump!”
Alex made the leap into his open arms just as the bracket tore free. He caught her, hugged her close, even as the platform skittered chaotically across the tops of the rails.
The runaway car pulled away from them, and then abruptly veered to the right. It had reached the passing loop. There was a screech of metal as the car’s momentum forced the wheel flanges up against the sides of the rails…and then over them. The rail car shot out into space, and a moment later slammed into the mountainside with a hollow-sounding crash. A second impact followed as the car tumbled, splintering trees, and then another and another.
Dane, still holding Alex tight, kicked away from the sliding platform before it could follow the car. The ties juddered painfully beneath them for a moment, but then the hammering stopped, or more precisely, they stopped.
Dane lay there for several seconds, listening to the rail car plow a furrow of destruction down the mountainside. His entire body felt like it had gone ten rounds with an industrial-sized meat tenderizer, his head was pounding and his ears were ringing…and he was grateful for the pain because it meant he was alive. When he felt like he could open his mouth without throwing up, he asked Alex if she was all right.
“Not really,” was her weak reply, but the trace of laughter in her voice told him otherwise.
They lay there together a couple minutes longer, staring up at the darkening sky and the startling visible swath of the Milky Way over head, until the will to move again returned.
EPILOGUE — Hell to Pay
The door opened and Dane stood up stiffly. His body was still black and blue from the pummeling he’d taken during the escape from the Templar vault, but scrapes and bruises were the extent of his injuries, and those would heal and fade in time. The damage to his career, on the other hand, remained to be seen, but he didn’t have a good feeling about it.
Bones had caught up to Dane and Alex as they hobbled back up the sloping track toward the summit. The tumult had not gone unnoticed at the lodge and it seemed likely that the authorities had already been contacted. The good news was that an emergency response would take time; it might be days before anyone began to grasp the scope of what had happened, more than enough time for them to limp their way off the mountain and make their way back home.
Home, however, had its own perils. When Dane again made contact with Maxie, the conversation was brief and pointed: Proceed immediately to the nearest U.S. military facility and await transport. Maxie did not ask for a report, and made it clear that they were not to talk with anyone.
A military plane returned them to Washington where Alex left them. Maxie was waiting there, stonily silent. He’d brought along their dress whites and told them only that they had an appointment at the Pentagon the following day, a meeting with the Secretary of the Navy.
And now that meeting was about to begin.
“BOHICA time,” muttered Bones. Bend over, here it comes again.
Maxie shot him a venomous look, but said nothing. Dane followed his CO through the door, with Bones bringing up the rear. The female officer who had opened the door stepped aside as they passed, but Dane didn’t look at her. Instead, he marched — as formally as his aches would allow — to stand in front of a table beside Maxie. They were in a conference room, not the Secretary’s office, and that struck Dane as odd, but it was a minor concern.
Maxie snapped to attention and saluted. “Commander Maxwell, reporting as ordered, sir.”
The man in civilian attire seated behind the large table — Dane recognized from the framed photo that hung in every office of the United States Navy — looked up with a slightly irritated expression and returned the salute with a half-hearted wave. Maxie dropped his hand but remained at attention. Dane and Bones just stared forward, waiting for the axe to fall.
“I’ve got a nine-thirty, so let’s keep this short and informal.” The SECNAV rose and picked up a thick manila envelope, then strode around the table to stand in front of Dane. He took a sheet of paper with the distinctive letterhead of the Department of the Navy from the envelope and held it up as if to read.
“Lieutenant Dane Maddock, United States Navy. For exceptionally meritorious service in the discovery of the Japanese Imperial Navy prisoner transport ship Nagata Maru, and assisting the repatriation of the remains of our honored dead…”
He took a slim blue case from the envelope and opened it. Inside was a red and blue ribbon from which hung a small gold colored pendant. He removed it and clipped it to Dane’s breast pocket, right below his SEAL trident.
“…is hereby awarded the Bronze Star Medal.” He passed the paper and the case to Dane and offered a stiff handshake.
What the hell?
Dane was only peripherally aware of the presentation of Bones’ medal. His task complete, the Secretary turned to leave, but paused at the door. “I believe this concludes the affair. Lieutenant Commander Vaccaro will finish your debriefing, after which this matter will remain classified. You are not to discuss it among yourselves or with anyone else. Good day, gentlemen.”
Because he was still trying to process what had just happened, Dane barely heard the parting shot, and didn’t make sense of it until he turned to face the female officer who was closing the door behind the departing official.