Adriana started when a crow perched on the high rafters suddenly called out. She looked up and saw the stark black bird take off against a sky of billowing gray clouds. The beast flew up through one of the many openings in the roof and disappeared.
The building that housed the old trains was in just as bad a state of repair as the trains themselves. More ceiling panels were missing than were still in place. Vines grew around the steel support beams and covered the brick walls. Swaths of bright green moss grew in the moisture just outside the tracks next to the engines and cars.
Strange, she thought, that places would be built to house these old machines and then allow them to rot. It would be better to sell them or perhaps melt them all down to be repurposed into something else. The whole idea seemed shortsighted and wasteful.
Adriana walked through the cavernous hangar, stepping in and out of pale sunlight as the spotty roof allowed. A long cardboard tube was tucked under her right arm. Her fingers gripped a section of it to make sure it didn’t fall. After strolling through the hangar for several minutes, she came to an old locomotive, one that looked like it could have been one of the first in Europe. The cabin’s metal walls were dark orange from a century or more of oxidation. It was surprising that it hadn’t completely disintegrated from rust. That, too, was a tribute to the way things were made back then.
She continued walking, her eyes ever watchful of the surroundings. She knew someone had an eye on her. Actually, it was a guarantee that two sets of eyes were watching her. Two at a minimum. Allyson was just outside the building’s perimeter, keeping watch on the exterior. If something or someone moved, she would see it. And the goal was to follow so they could pinpoint a location for the guy both women knew only as the Belgian.
Adriana wondered where his eyes might be. Surely, he was keeping tabs on her every move. Changing the drop-off location from Marseille to Düsseldorf was a smart move on his part, for a number of reasons. It would keep her guessing as to where his base of operations might be, and the railroad graveyard was quiet — much quieter than the shipping yard where she’d dropped off the first painting. Fewer people involved, no witnesses, and no police. She recalled the drop-off for the first painting and how her interaction with one of the dock workers had resulted in police rushing to the scene. Adriana had made it out before being caught, but only by a matter of seconds.
Getting out of Switzerland had proved to be a non-issue.
After leaving Immelman’s body in his basement, Adriana and Allyson went upstairs to the room where he kept the Rubens. Adriana had stared at the painting in silent admiration, taking a brief moment to pay respect to a work by one of the great masters. As it turned out, getting the painting off the wall was simple enough. Immelman’s security system was nothing Adriana hadn’t seen before — odd, considering the man’s vast wealth. He could have afforded much better. In his arrogance, Immelman believed that no one would rob him of his most prized possession, and that became his undoing.
Adriana walked around the front of another locomotive, one that looked more like it came from the early Communist era in Russia. A flat plate on both sides, which protruded out beyond the boiler and the smoke box, protected its long body. She stopped and twisted her body left and right, looking in both directions. The maneuver caused the bandaged cut on her abdomen to stretch a little and send new pain through her body. She winced and involuntarily placed her hand over the wound.
There was no one to be seen, but she knew someone was there, lurking in the shadows.
The locomotive to her left had a number on the front, just above a faded red star. She shifted around in front of it, stepping over the aged rails, and saw more clearly the number 375. This was it. The directions from the Belgian had been to put the tube with the painting in it on the front of the train, just in front of the smoke box door.
She stole another quick look around, a habit she figured would never go away. Understanding her surroundings and what she was facing was something she’d learned to do long ago, which was why she felt so uncomfortable. Aside from being called a train graveyard, the place had the strangely combined feeling of a tomb and a kill box.
After one more scan of the immediate surroundings, she placed the package on the flat surface in front of the smoke box door on locomotive 375. Adriana drew in a deep breath and stared at the tube for a moment. Another crow cawed somewhere in the cavernous building, the sound echoed off the concrete and brick like it would have in a canyon. Adriana stepped back and away from the locomotive.
“Leave it. You may go.” The voice was firm and commanding. The accent was distinct, northern German if she didn’t miss her guess. His second sentence wasn’t a suggestion; it was clearly an order.
Adriana’s head swiveled around, her eyes peering through the area to see if she could spot anyone. As far as she could tell, however, the hangar was empty. No one revealed himself. Her mind played tricks on her more than once, causing her to think she saw something or someone in the shadows, but it was a mirage, ghosts of her imagination haunting her, teasing her.
The voice didn’t say anything else. He knew better. To do so would give away his position, or at least a close proximity of it. Whoever he was, he waited patiently for Adriana to move away from the locomotive and head back the way she came.
As she walked hesitantly down the aisle, Adriana heard Allyson’s voice come over the wireless, flesh-colored earpiece in her right ear.
“Who was that?”
Adriana looked left and then right. She wasn’t about to answer. But the question told her enough to know that Allyson didn’t see the speaker either. That meant the man was probably already on the premises when the two women had arrived.
Of course, he would be. He wouldn’t show up in a limousine with a full entourage to make the pickup. It would be covert. Whoever he was, he probably wouldn’t make his move until he was certain both women were gone. Adriana hoped Allyson had stayed in position just outside the main entrance to the grounds, in an old brick warehouse office across the street. From there, she could safely monitor who entered and who left. It made more sense than being within the confines of the rail yard, where the Belgian probably had constant surveillance.
The two women had arrived separately, thus eliminating the possibility that their plan could be compromised. When Allyson found a suitable lookout perch, she let Adriana know exactly where she would be. Hours later, just before the deadline, Adriana arrived with the package.
There wasn’t much traffic in the decrepit industrial section of town, so they had to be extra careful when it came to their arrival. Allyson entered the back of the warehouse on foot, leaving her car almost half a mile away just to be safe. The only item she carried was Adriana’s rucksack, sans the pistol the Spaniard kept on hand at nearly all times.
Adriana reached the end of a line of passenger cars and turned left, heading for the entrance, a set of tin doors barely hanging on by a rusty hinge.
Allyson answered the unspoken question. “No sign of anyone coming or going out here. It’s like a ghost town, this place.”
Adriana remained silent as she twisted her body sideways and shuffled through the door. She’d parked only a few dozen feet away, making a show of the fact that she’d arrived alone. Surely, the Belgian had eyes on the gravel lot outside the hangar. Adriana just hoped he wasn’t watching outside the perimeter.