"I was reasonably cool in high school," I said and winked.
The Handie-Talkie crackled again.
"Hi there, law-enforcement stars. The real fun's about to start. Remember, if we see any choppers or planes near the train, a hostage will be shot," the familiar male voice instructed. Was it the Mastermind?
"How do we know the hostages are still alive?" Betsey asked. "Why should we trust you to tell the truth? You've murdered innocent people before."
"You don't. You shouldn't. We have. The bus hostages are alive, though. All right open the train door now! Get ready for my next signal. Get the duffel bags up to the door! Now, now, now! Move it! Don't make us kill somebody."
Chapter Sixty-One
The four of us rushed to get the heavy bags of money to the nearest train door. I was already starting to sweat. My face and scalp felt flushed.
"Get ready! Get ready!" The voice on the Handie-Talkie yelled out frantic commands. "This is it."
Betsey was already on another two-way alerting her people. The countryside was flashing by in bright greens and muddy browns. We were somewhere near Aberdeen, Maryland, having passed through the last station about seven minutes earlier.
"Get ready! Are you ready? Don't disappoint me!" the voice squawked loudly.
So far, the only trick we had come up with was to try to spread out the area where the money bags would fall. We had even considered keeping one bag on board, which might force them to search for a while. But we agreed that was too dangerous for the hostages.
The Handie-Talkie went dead again.
"Fuck!" Doud exclaimed.
"Do we throw the money bags out? "Walsh yelled over the rumble of the train and the rushing wind.
"No! Wait!" I yelled at him and Doud, who was leaning precariously over the train's edge. "Wait for their instructions! He would have told us to throw the money off. Don't throw the bags!"
"Son of a bitch!' Betsey shouted as she swung her arm around in a fast, hard arc," They're messing with us. They're laughing at us right now."
"Yes, they probably are,” I said," Let's keep our cool. We have to keep it together."
The FBI was going crazy `›/:,' trying to track the channel the kidnappers were using for the two-way radios. It wasn't working. The two-ways were state-of-the-art, the kind the military used. The scrambler chips in them were encoded to change the frequency each time they were used. It was even possible that the kidnappers had several two-ways and were discarding them after each call.
Betsey was still incensed. Her brown eyes flashed. "He's thought of everything, including not giving us time to plan. Who is this bastard?"
The Handie-Talkie crackled again.
"Open the door! Get ready to heave the bags out," the radio voice suddenly commanded again.
I grabbed two bags full of twenty- and fifty-dollar bills. My heart was in my throat as I rushed to the open door a second time. The wind outside roared.
The train was hurtling through deep woods now, elms and pines and thick brush. I saw no houses or anyone lurking in the woods. It seemed like a good spot for the drop-off.
The Handie-Talkie went dead again!
Assholes! "Agent Doud yelled at the top of his voice. The rest of us groaned and dropped to the floor.
The voice repeated the drill eleven times in the next hour and a quarter. Three times we were made to move all the money to different cars on the train.
We were sent all the way to the last car then we were immediately ordered back to the front again.
"You guys are good. Very obedient, "said the radio voice.
Then the two-way was silent again.
Chapter Sixty-Two
"I can't stand this! "Betsey yelled. "Goddamn him to hell I want to kill that bastard," The money bags were oversized and heavy; we were exhausted from lugging them through the train. We were covered with perspiration and dirt and soot. Jumpy and on edge. The constant rattle of the train was noisier than ever.
The Amtrak train was rushing through deep woods again. Its horn blared loudly. Agent Walsh was keeping track of the stations we'd passed.
Then the Handie-Talkie came to life again. "Get those bags of money and diamonds ready. Open the door now! And when you toss them throw them out close together. If you don't, a hostage will be shot! We're watching every move you make. You're very pretty, Agent Cavalierre."
"Yeah, and you're a geek," Betsey muttered to herself. Her pale blue T-shirt was stained a shade darker with sweat. Her black hair stuck closely to her scalp. If she'd had an ounce of fat on her before, she'd lost it during the jarring train ride.
"False alarm," the voice on the radio said with obvious glee. "As you were. That's all for the moment."
The two-way went dead again.
"Shit!"
Everyone collapsed on to the duffel bags and lay there breathing heavily. I was trying to keep my brain working in straight lines, but it was getting harder after each false alarm. I really wasn't sure if I could make another run to the other end of the train.
"Maybe we should get off the train with the money bags." Walsh spoke from his perch on the bags. "Screw up their timing at least. Do something they don't expect."
"It's an idea, but too dangerous for the hostages, "Betsey told him.
Walsh and Doud cursed loudly when the two-way came on again. We had almost reached our limit. What was our limit?
"No rest for the wicked," the voice said. We could hear the pop of a soft-drink or beer can being opened. Then a sigh of refreshment. "Or maybe the line should be, rest for the wicked?"
The radio voice screamed at us. "Throw out the bags now! Do it! We're watching the train. We see you! Throw the bags or we kill all of them!"
We had no choice; no options had been left open to us. It was all we could do to try to throw the bags off close to one another. We were too tired to move as fast as we might have. I felt as if I were moving in a dream. My clothes were soaking wet; my arms and legs sore.
"Throw the bags faster!" the voice commanded. "Let's see those muscles, Agent Cavalierre."