Chapter 10

The old man leaned on the conductor's arm to board the train. Hunched, gray and wizened, he shuffled into the carriage, his cane clicking against the floor of the car. He fumbled with his ticket and asked a young woman for help in identifying his seat. She brushed him off, but the security guard took pity on the man and guided him to a seat at the front of the car. He sat heavily and sighed.

The train pulled away from the station. The old man dozed off, lulled by the rattle and puff of the engine. He snored lightly.

A few stations down the line, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly, a violent cough shook his frame and the man pressed a handkerchief to his mouth.

The passenger behind him laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, are you all right?"

He nodded. "My bad heart." He thumped his chest, sending him into another coughing fit. "It'll be all right in a moment."

The coughing subsided and the man settled in again. A quarter hour later, his cell phone rang. He was startled, and fumbled with it, the high tech phone looking awkward in his hands. "Hallo? Hallo?" he shouted into the phone, then cursed when the line went dead.

Shortly thereafter, he stood and shuffled into the restroom.

Jack removed his plaid felt fedora and pulled out his phone. He uploaded the picture he had just taken: two men in the aisle, one handing a briefcase to the other. A moment later, Irina's voice came over the line. "I've got it. See you in thirty minutes." The connection went silent.

Jack splashed water on his face and replaced his hat, slipping back into his persona. He checked himself in the lavatory mirror before stepping back into the passenger area.

Settling into his seat, he turned to the young woman beside him and struck up a trivial conversation with her. The moment she expressed interest, he pulled out his wallet and showed her a dozen pictures of small children. "My grandchildren," he beamed with pride. For the next twenty minutes, he nattered on about the grandchildren, his late wife, and his weak heart; pulling bystanders into the conversation.

Irina squinted against the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. Luckily, her current outfit-a pale blue skirt and cotton blouse was comfortable, if plain. Thirty minutes until the train arrived. Enough time to take care of a few details.

Irina moved down the dusty sidewalk, pausing every so often to peer casually inside shop windows. Satisfied that she wasn't being watched, Irina continued to the shop she wanted-a mom and pop affair specializing in leather goods.

She stepped inside and was grateful for the light breeze that greeted her. Irina scanned the room, noting the variety of belts, bags, and jackets that lined the walls. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead.

At the sound of the bell, a young woman looked up from behind the counter and gave Irina a warm smile. "May I help you?"

"Just looking, thank you," Irina replied

"Let me know if you need anything." The woman went back to counting inventory.

Irina moved toward the selection of bags, passing by the purses and handbags for the larger, sturdier pieces. After a few minutes, her gaze landed on a plain black briefcase. It wasn't exactly like the one in the pictures Jack had sent her, but it was the closest she was going to get. *Hopefully*, she thought, *with a few touch-ups, no one will know the difference.* It wouldn't pass a close inspection, but Irina didn't intend to let anyone have the chance.

She took the bag off the rack and headed toward the cash register.

"Oh sir, your grandchildren are very lovely. But I am afraid I must sleep." The young woman yawned dramatically. "I am very tired."

"Yes, yes, sleep well, child," Jack encouraged. When her eyes closed and she feigned sleep, Jack rested his head against the back of his seat and pulled his hat low over his eyes.

The train rolled on for a few more minutes, and then pulled into the next station. From the corner of his eye, Jack watched the new passengers board. Among them was a pretty middle-aged woman, her clothing and demeanor suggestive of the rural countryside.

Once inside the train, she pushed away a stray lock of hair from her face and looked around the car. She briefly met his eye, then picked up her satchel and took a seat at the front of the car.

The train rolled on, and the landscape changed from city to town to hills and forest. Jack checked his watch and prepared himself for the next phase. He reached into his pocket for a second handkerchief, identical to the first, but prepared with pale makeup. He coughed again, this time lightly smearing the makeup on his face.

He coughed again, sputtered and leaned forward in his seat. The woman beside him stirred and placed a hand on his back. "Are you all right, sir?"

Jack nodded and reached into his breast pocket for a bottle of medication. He coughed again, then gasped and rubbed his chest. An elderly woman from the seat in front of him looked back, concern on her face. "He needs water," she said.

A college student pushed a glass of water into Jack's hands. He smiled and nodded in thanks and struggled with the cap on his bottle of pills. The young man gently took it from him and dropped two pills into his outstretched palm. Jack swallowed the two pills and relaxed.

Minutes ticked by. Jack resumed coughing, but waved off the concern of his fellow passengers. "I just need a moment for my medicine to work," he said as he loosened his collar.

Feigning infirmity, Jack surreptitiously monitored the activities of the Guild men in the car. He knew the transfer - the one opportunity they had to capture the artifact - was rapidly approaching. A courier he had not previously seen entered the front of the carriage, and the man with the black case stood. They waited a moment, assessing their fellow passengers,looking for threats. Satisfied, they walked towards one another to make the exchange.

Jack moaned and, a split-second before they met, cried out and collapsed onto the floor, clutching his chest.

The train erupted into chaos. People surged to their feet, voices raised in alarm. Passengers pushed their way forward, offering advice, cold cloths, and home-made remedies.

Irina gripped the black briefcase she had bought earlier, and stepped out into the aisle. She was immediately pushed forward by the crowd. Rather than fight against the momentum, she let it carry her right into the courier and the satchel he held.

She cried out at the impact and dropped her bag. "I'm sorry!" She gasped. She edged her way past the courier, grabbing his briefcase as she did so. It took barely a moment, and the man did not notice the switch.

Using the crush of people to her advantage, Irina kept moving, making her way into an adjoining car.

The purser burst into the car and stood over Jack. "What is going on here?" he demanded. He was bombarded with explanations, ranging from epilepsy to a heart attack. The man paled and knelt beside Jack, taking his hand. "Sir, Sir, are you all right?"

Jack moaned. "Help me, please. My heart."

The purser rushed to the emergency phone at the back of the car and spoke furiously to the engineer. When he returned, he brought a first aid kit and told the passengers, "We will stop at the next station. An ambulance will meet us."

The train rattled on through the hilly countryside. The car went dark as it passed through a tunnel. People and furnishings threw only dim shadows in the dark. As they emerged on the other side, the train shuddered as it jolted past a set of rough points. Drinks on trays spilled over, and people grasped their luggage to keep it from falling into the aisle. The leather attache case sitting on the courier's lap fell forward, launching greeting cards and crochet placemats onto the floor. The courier looked at his partner, and both men turned pale.

The two stood up quickly, dumping the rest of the useless trinkets onto the floor. The Guild operative called into his radio sharply, summoning his backup. The two additional operatives in the car also stood. The attention of all four men fixated upon Jack, lying on the floor, his shirt open, surrounded by good samaritans.

The men converged on Jack. Bystanders were roughly pushed aside, and they protested until an operative pulled out a gun and waved it threateningly. The second pair of Guild members grabbed Jack and hauled him to his feet, then slammed him against the wall of the car. Sill feigning infirmity, he cried out and allowed himself to sink to the floor.

The train increased speed, the hum of the engines taking on a higher, insistent tone.

In the next car, Irina felt the train speed up. Frowning, she glanced behind her. Two rows to her left, she identified another operative. He stood abruptly and reached inside his jacket.

Irina's eyes widened and she darted out into the aisle, intending to disarm him. Suddenly, the door to the car slammed open, and people streamed in, babbling in fear.

Irina's gaze snapped to the open door. It wasn't much of a distraction, but it was enough. The guard squeezed off a few shots into the mob. Passengers fell, screaming.

Irina dropped instinctively to the ground. Bullets whizzed by her head as she crawled toward the guard. There were too many people, too many legs and feet and too much movement. She didn't dare try to shoot the man, not in such chaos. *Bring him down first, then get the gun*.

She was three feet from her target. Two. Irina's progress was achingly slow. And then suddenly, she was *there*. She surged up out of the crowd and grabbed the guard's gun hand, shoving him backwards as she did so. Surprised, he let the weapon drop. Irina elbowed him in the face and he sagged against the wall, blood dripping from his nose.

Spinning away from him, Irina frantically searched for the guard's weapon. She saw it a few steps away; partially hidden under a seat. She grabbed it, and turned her attention to the milling passengers.

"Listen to me, everyone!" She called out over the din. "Everything is going to be fine. You must stay calm. Tend to the wounded as best you can, and do not leave this compartment."

Several people backed away from her nervously. Mercifully, the shouting and wailing had given way to uneasy whispers.

Someone cleared her throat, and Irina's gaze flashed to an old woman near the front of the crowd. Irina recognized her instantly as one of the passengers who had been sitting near Jack when he'd collapsed. Irina nodded to her.

"Ma'am...uh..." The woman glanced nervously to the gun in Irina's hand. "I think they're going to kill the old man. One of them said something earlier..."

Irina's stomach clenched. Ignoring the woman, she strode forward and peered out of the doorway.

One of the operatives had hauled Jack to his feet and shoved him against the wall. The man had the muzzle of his pistol pressed against the base of Jack's throat. Three more operatives surrounded him. Irina bit her lip. Sweat beaded on her brow. She had one shot at this, and it wasn't a good one. Yet, she had no choice.

Grimly, Irina raised her gun.

Jack was slammed against the wall of the railcar. "Where is it," the courier demanded. A second man punched Jack in the stomach, and he doubled over, his breath forced out of his lungs.

As he panted against the pain, the third man added harshly, "You're quite a strapping fellow for an old man with a weak heart." Rough hands pulled Jack upright, then slammed his head against the wall again. He blinked as cold gun metal pressed under his chin.

Jack quickly calculated the odds: four assailants, all armed; himself wounded and at a physical disadvantage. He knew that he was one false move from failure. He silently hoped for Irina, or failing that, some kind of opening.

A shot rang out, and the guard furthest from him dropped to the floor. In that split-second of confusion, Jack seized his opportunity and grabbed the hand holding the gun at his throat. He twisted the arm, and the man spun just far enough for Jack to latch onto his head and twist. A sickening crack, and he sagged in Jack's arms.

The confusion didn't last long, and the original courier levelled his gun at Jack. There was nowhere to run, no possible cover. But Jack had retained control of the dead man's hand, and used the gun to squeeze off three neat shots that hit the courier in the chest.

And then Jack was staring down the barrel of another gun, and there was nothing to do, and no time to react.

Four more shots rang out, and the shooter dropped to the floor. Behind him stood Irina, her own gun levelled at Jack, smoke wafting from the barrel. Her hair was wild, her face grim, and she was a welcome sight. He sighed in relief.

"Thanks," he said raggedly.

She nodded sharply.

"That's four. How many more?"

"One more." She replied. "I'd take a guess and say he's in the engine. He must have taken control of the train when the hand off failed. We're going too fast," Irina said grimly, and glanced at Jack's leg. "We can't jump off at this speed."

"No." He bent to retrieve the guns from the couriers; kept two and tossed two to Irina.

Irina stuck the first handgun in the waistband of her skirt and caught the second. She glanced behind her one last time. "Clear."

"I'd offer to go first," Jack said apologetically. "But I'm not particularly mobile."

Irina nodded again, then handed Jack the briefcase and he slung it over his shoulder.

Moving towards the front of the train, Irina edged toward the next car peered through the window. Passengers were huddled in their seats. Some were crying. Others just sat there, stunned. Irina pulled the door open, ignoring the gasps of the people within.

Toward the back of the car, a body lay face down on the floor. Irina strode forward, Jack close behind her. Reaching the man, she knelt and gently turned him over. "Railway police." she said shortly. Rising, she wiped her hands on her skirt.

Jack nodded grimly. The train was careening out of control, and the panic of the passengers was palpable. Terrified faces looked up at him, taking in the blood on his clothes, the gun in his hand. He swallowed and said, "We're going to stop the train. Brace yourselves."

"Lock the door behind us," Irina met Jack's eyes. They both knew that a locked door would be nothing next to an armed assault. But a lie was better than nothing. "And stay down. This will be over soon."

She and Jack made their way to the next car, and the next, telling everyone to stay down; keep quiet. At last they reached the lead car, just behind the engine.

Irina made short work of the lock, and opened the door. The wind and its deafening noise burst into the car. Jack grabbed hold of the doorway. The countryside sped by in a blur, and the train shook in protest. Irina grabbed hold of the railing with one hand, the other gripped her weapon tightly. With a smooth motion, she hauled herself from the lead car to the engine. Jack followed her, with considerably less grace.

It was too loud for words to carry, so they resorted to hand signals. Jack motioned for Irina to move along the other side of the engine. When she was in place, he took a single aimed shot at the corner of the cab. It ricocheted and put a crack in the glass.

The hijacker immediately responded by retuning fire. Bullets struck the side of the engine, and Jack retreated, using the corner of the engine for cover. He kept up a steady pace of firing, keeping the man occupied.

With his right hand, he motioned for Irina to advance.

Irina slid along the opposite side of the engine. She clung to the guardrail as the wind whipped by. She noted with satisfaction that the hijacker had his attention focused solely on Jack. she moved a few more feet forward, and slid her gun out of her waistband.

The train screeched past a switching station, and it jerked dangerously. Irina swore.

*Just a little longer, Jack. Keep him occupied just a little longer.* She reached toward the door of the cab with her free hand. Jerking the door open, Irina fired two shots in rapid succession. The man screamed as she swung up into the engine room.

He was still alive. The hijacker clutched at his side, blood dripping through his fingers. He brought his gun up to fire.

Irina put him down before he had a chance to get off a single shot. He fell back against the opposing door, his eyes glazed in death.

Irina stepped fully into the cab. Pushing the hijacker's body aside, she flashed Jack the `all clear' signal. When he joined her, she said, "We need to change tracks, here. " She tapped the GPS monitor nestled within the controls. "But at this speed, we'll either overshoot it or jump the track entirely."

Jack nodded and said, "We need to stop the train anyway." He took the engineer's position and pulled back the throttle to decelerate the train.

The train did not slow.

Jack exchanged a brief, surprised glance with Irina. "He must have sabotaged it," Jack said as his mind raced, recalling everything he knew about diesel engines. "I'll shut off the fuel pump, you get the emergency brakes."

She nodded and headed back out onto the running boards. Irina circled around behind the engine. There were two metal hand brakes, and both were easily half her height. Mercifully, they hadn't been tampered with. Irina pulled the brakes toward her, and heard them squeal as they fought against the train's momentum.

Jack pulled a multi-tool from his pocket and prised open the main circuitboard. He noted, with considerable chagrin, that the wires had been melded together. The switches were useless.

He heard the squeal of the emergency brakes. The train slowed marginally, but the brakes and the engine were fighting each other.

Looking around the small cab, he found the engineer's safety manual, and rapidly flipped through the pages. It was in Czech, and difficult to work out, but he found what he was looking for: the schematics of the electrical system. The access panel was in the back of the cab, and he knelt to work on the screws.

The door opened suddenly, admitting Irina and a blast of cold air. "What's happening?" she asked. She pulled the door shut behind her and moved up beside him. Irina surveyed the mess of wires critically.

Not missing a beat, Jack slid the access panel aside and configured his tool into wireclippers. "I'm going to cut power to the fuel pump - watch the readout and tell me when I get the right wire." He maneuvered onto his back and slid into the cubbyhole.

Irina kept her eyes glued to the screen as Jack began clipping wires. "Not...no! Not that one."

On his back in the confined space, Jack traced wire after wire the greatest danger was shutting off the power to the brakes. In the compartment, adjacent to the turbines, the vibrations from the straining engines made his teeth rattle. He clipped one more wire, and Irina replied in the negative.

The train charged into a tunnel; darkness fell and the noise reverberated in the enclosed space.

When they emerged again, Jack found another wire and cut it.

"That's it." Irina's tone was sharp with relief. The train began to slow. She glanced over at the GPS monitor.

"Jack, we'd better find something to hold on to. There's a bridge up ahead."

Irina headed toward the back of the cab and sat down on the floor. She braced herself against the wall.

Jack didn't have time to emerge from the access tunnel, he braced his hands against the hot steel stanchions surrounding him. The squeal of the brakes, combined with the now-sputtering engines rang in his ears.

The train was slowing, but not quickly enough. He could hear and feel the train reach the bridge. The vibrations became unbearable, and he was shaken like a rag doll; his wounded leg jammed against a steel strut.

Just when it seemed as if the whole train would fall off the trestle, it finally ground to a halt.

Irina rose shakily from the floor. She heard the hiss of the engine venting steam, beyond that, there was complete silence. She moved to help Jack.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Jack said automatically, ignoring the jolt of pain through his leg and the bump on the back of his head. He emerged from the access tunnel and stood shakily. "You okay?"

She nodded. Irina could feel a new set of bruises starting on her skin already, but they were inconsequential. "We have to get out of here. We don't have much time before someone decides to investigate. Can you walk?" Irina looked him over critically.

"Yeah." Jack ran a hand through his hair. He took a look at the GPS unit, then reached into his pocket for a compass. He compared readings and turned to Irina. "I think we should head for Prague; it's approximately twenty miles from here, but offers the best opportunity to blend in and disappear."

She glanced at his leg again. Jack was favoring it, she could tell. Twenty miles...But they had no choice, and she wouldn't leave him behind.

"All right." Irina moved to the door of the cab and peered outside. Passengers had disembarked and were milling around beside the tracks. Cracking the door open, Irina slipped down onto the running boards. She turned toward Jack, her hand outstretched. "Give me the case."

Jack hesitated only a moment, then handed her the briefcase and allowed her to assist him out of the train and onto the trestle. They walked along a narrow support strut to the other side of the river. He looked anxiously behind him, but no passengers had followed. They ducked into the thickly-wooded area and began their long march.

To Be Continued...