Kurt made it past the two bogies on which the Pullman-type car’s wheels rested, continued forward under the next car, and caught up to Joe and Hayley. She was struggling.
“Not exactly enjoying this part of the trip,” she said.
“At least you fit under here,” Kurt said. “This is a little tight for me. And considering the size of Joe’s head, I’m not sure how he’s avoided knocking himself out yet.”
Joe chuckled. They kept going and quickly reached the aft of the two diesel engines.
“Afraid we’ve run into a roadblock,” Joe said.
Kurt looked past them. There was much less clearance under the engine than under the passenger cars.
“These modern engines have the electric motors down on the wheels,” Joe explained, pointing. “The gearing too. Not to mention the fuel tank in the middle, and probably a cowcatcher up front.”
“You sure we can’t squeeze by?”
“Not a chance.”
Kurt frowned. If they couldn’t go under, they would have to go over or around. “If you were a hijacker in a locomotive, what would you be watching?”
“The engineer,” Joe said.
Kurt’s eyebrows went up. “My thoughts exactly.”
“What are you going to do?” Hayley asked.
Kurt glanced out behind them. The guards on foot still had their attention on the passenger car, but not for long. Due to the way the train had stopped on the curve, there was more space on one side than the other.
“We’re going to break in and surprise whosever in the lead engine. Hopefully, without having to do any shooting.”
Kurt eyed the foot patrol once more. As they turned toward the tail end of the train, he climbed out from under the passenger car and sprinted forward in the dark. He reached the lead engine and went up the ladder onto the catwalk, or sill, that ran the length of the engine like a running board on an old car.
Joe came up behind him, and Hayley followed quickly as well.
They eased their way toward the cab of the diesel. The throbbing of twin sixteen-cylinder diesels masked their approach.
Kurt reached the door, managed a quick peek inside, and saw exactly what he’d hoped to see: a single gunman with his back to the door and his pistol leveled at a burly man in the driver’s seat.
He put his hand on the door, testing the resistance in the handle. He felt pretty certain it wasn’t locked. He opened it with a start and stepped inside.
The hijacker didn’t react quickly. He turned as if expecting to see one of his kind. His eyes widened only when he saw the gun pointed at his head.
“G’day, mate,” Kurt said.
The hijacker hesitated and then handed the pistol over.
TWENTY
Victor Kirov woke to darkness and a pounding, migrainelike pain in his head. It took a moment, but he soon remembered where he was and what his mission required. The lights came on in the passenger car, and, seconds later, a group of his men dashed into the compartment.
“Where are they?” one asked.
“How should I know?” Kirov replied. “I was unconscious when they left.”
One of the locals who’d taken a beating pointed forward. “They went to the front.”
“We just came from there,” another guy said. “We never saw them.”
Kirov stood, angry and wobbly. He steadied himself. “They’re hiding. Check everywhere. Check the roof. Check the baggage compartments. Double-check every space.”
The men fanned out, looking nervous.
Kirov’s partner sidled up to him. “We’ve been on this train too long as it is.”
Kirov looked at his watch, having trouble focusing. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but it didn’t matter. “I’m not going back without the woman.”
“This isn’t some third world country,” his partner reminded him. “The authorities will be coming here soon.”
Kirov considered this. It wouldn’t do to get caught out in the open with the lights on. It might require cyanide, a thought he wanted nothing to do with.
Suddenly, the train lurched forward. The sound and vibration of the diesels straining to pull the load could be felt.
“They’re in the engine,” Kirov said, heading forward.
“We’ll never get to them in time,” his partner pointed out.
“You forget: the truck is still across the road. This train isn’t going very far.”
In the cab of the forward diesel, Kurt was watching the door with one eye and the hijacker they’d surprised and subdued with the other. He could sense Hayley and Joe staring at the big truck in their path about five hundred feet away.
At first, the train was only inching toward it, but it slowly began to pick up speed. The thundering roar of eight thousand horsepower in the two locomotives beginning to win the battle over inertia. When they were four hundred feet out, the truck driver began flicking his lights on and off and blowing his horn. As if everyone didn’t know he was there.
“He’ll move,” Kurt said confidently.
“What if he doesn’t?” Joe asked.
“Would you stay there?”
“But trains derail,” Hayley cried. “Two hundred and fifty-three worldwide in the last six months alone. And not all of them hit trucks!”
Kurt looked at her sideways. “How would you even know such a thing?”
“I keep abreast of all travel-related accidents,” she said, “to remind myself why I stay at home.”
At three hundred feet, the train’s blazing headlights began to light up the broadside of the big truck. The driver could be seen blocking the light from his eyes.
Kurt flipped the radio back on, switching channels until he heard someone speaking.
“… do not allow the train to pass,” another Russian-sounding voice was saying.
Kurt broke in as soon as the frequency cleared. “Whoever you are in the truck, I’d move if I were you.”
Kirov’s voice came next. “Driver, if you move that truck, I will personally cut your heart out.”
Two hundred feet from impact, with the train beginning to gain momentum, the truck driver made a decision that split the difference. He threw open the door, jumped from the rig, and ran for the hills.
“Didn’t see that coming,” Joe muttered.
“Oh no,” Hayley gasped.
“You have to stop now,” Kirov threatened.
“Don’t stop,” Kurt told the burly Australian engineer.
“No worries,” the big man said.
“I really don’t want to be in a train wreck,” Hayley cried.
The engineer looked at Hayley. “Don’t worry, love,” he said. “At this speed, we’re not really a train anyway.”
The truck was only a hundred feet ahead.
“What are we, then?” Hayley asked.
The engineer grinned manically and held the shuddering engine’s throttle wide open. “The world’s largest, most powerful bulldozer!”
There was something both inspiring and borderline crazy about the engineer. Either way, he wasn’t slowing down. And Kurt was glad for that.
“Brace yourselves!” the engineer shouted.
The last hundred feet vanished in ten seconds. The rumbling train thundered into the broadside of the truck, shoving it forward. The diesels alone weighed six hundred thousand pounds. The sheer power they were generating, and the weight of the entire train, made quick work of the truck, lifting it and then discarding it to the right as if it were made of tin.
The impact was incredibly loud, a thundering boom followed by the wrenching sound of shredding aluminum. The feeling was like that of a ship breaking a large wave. The train shouldered through the blow with great power. The headlights blew out, and the windshield cracked, but the safety glass stayed in place. And when the last bits of the truck were finally tossed aside and sent tumbling down the embankment, the train itself was still on the tracks.