The bridge was repaired in a few weeks, but services were not as full. Some of the engines began to conduct sweeps along the line in their spare time. Some of the public did so too, but only for the reward money.

"Nothing," growled 98462. "Seems the saboteur has…vanished! But how?"

The same thing occurred for the next two months: no amount of searching brought anything up. Even an increase in the reward brought nothing: only leads that would turn out to be false. It wouldn't be until October that information would be obtained, half of it by Petunia, half by Noah.

Noah's part of the information was obtained when he visited a bar one evening. Ever since he returned from war, he began drinking Gin, and now seemed like a pretty good time to drown out his issues.

"Back for more I see," chuckled the Bartender.

"Got anything new, Reggie?" asked Noah.

"Well, there's this one called the Brandy Alexander, just got the recipe two months ago," said Reggie.

"Alright Reggie, Alex me."

Reggie obliged and poured the Veteran a drink. Noah took one sip of it and…

"LENNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

Everyone turned to Noah to see what the screaming was.

"What…what're you all looking at?" Noah asked, slightly slurred.

"Who's Lenny?" asked a patron.

"Why do you care? Lenny ever do anything to you? Huh? Did he?"

It was clear Noah couldn't handle the Brandy Alexander.

"Odd: never seen you loaded so fast," remarked Reggie.

"These past two months…" Noah took another drink. "Awful. Saboteur vanished into thin fucking air. I SEE YOU STARING, YOU WANNA START A FIGHT?!"

Someone laughed softly.

"You can't fight me. I have killed many people without firing a single shot."

The man walked out, not even flinching when a chair was thrown at him: instead, it broke into many pieces. This made Noah sober up at once.

"Wait a minute, he should've felt that!" he pointed out. "There's something odd about that man." Noah began following him, or at least he tried to: the man wasn't anywhere to be seen when he stepped out of the pub. "Strange," muttered Noah. "Not even footprints."

He didn't think about it for the rest of the night, however. It wasn't until he met up with Conan, Jewelie, and Thomas, that he found importance to the one thing the man had said.

The trio had been out all night scouting the line with binoculars and a flashlight, with Thomas hauling a brake van.

"How did it go?"

Jewelie's stare said everything.

Later on, at their house, Jewelie was drinking Gin Fizz when, out of nowhere, Conan spanked her.

"Eek! Connie, what the bloody hell are you doing?!"

"Sorry… It's just…"

"Look, I know we're all stressed here, but come on! Control yourself!"

"Sorry Jewels…"

Jewelie sighed and passed the bottle.

"It's frustrating, I tell you," she said. "There's no way those tools wouldn't have fingerprints!"

"The bastard could have used gloves," replied Conan, while taking a drink. "Should we go to bed? We didn't sleep all night, after all."

"Quite the perv, aren't you? In any case, you're right"

Neither could sleep, however: the sabotage was on their mind. Both ended up obtaining solace in the only place they could: each other.

"Ah…I love you, Connie."

"I love you too, Jewels."

Even in their darkest hours, the bond of body and soul both shared proved unbreakable

On the railway, Petunia had been working hard in the days since her arrival: she proved to be an adequate replacement for Lily, even if she actively avoided everyone else like the plague. It was during a stop at Killdane that she overheard something.

"I'm tellin' ya, that guy paid too much for me to rat 'im out," said an unfamiliar voice.

"But you knew what he was gonna do? What if the coppers find out?"

"They'll never find out, not without any direct evidence."

"What is direct for you? You did what you wanted, let's get outta here."

"We can't leave: I've not even started."

"Pete, you're going too far. If you don't stop, the authorities will connect the dots. Then you and I will both be in trouble."

"No, just you."

The last thing Petunia heard was a gunshot, screams of terror, and someone screaming, "Murderer! Get him!" After that, silence.

"Did you hear that?" she asked her driver.

"Indeed I did," the driver confirmed. "Come on, we should leave."

"Can we do that without the guard's whistle?" asked Petunia.

Said whistle came at that moment: it seemed the gunshot was enough to rush the passengers into boarding. Petunia departed, deciding to tell the other engines what she heard.

That night, she did so.

"That is suspicious, I will admit," said Edward. "All the same, did the other man clarify what he wanted this Pete to stop?"

"Well, he said, "you did what you wanted", that's enough to connect him to the sabotage," Petunia answered.

"But what is it that he wanted?" Edward insisted. "As far as I can tell, there wasn't any mention of sabotage in that conversation."

"We need more proof," added Luci. "Maybe someone else has any?"

"I do," that was Noah who spoke up.

"Feel free to share it, then," said Emily.

"It happened in the bar a few days ago. I was…you know, drinking…this new drink called Brandy Alexander. I got…err, let's cut to the important part: one of the other patrons had a chair thrown at him, but he didn't flinch, all that happened was the chair broke into pieces upon impacting his head. There was no sign when I went to follow, not even footprints. I think this may be your Pete, and he may also be the saboteur."

"We still need confirmation we're not after the wrong man," Edward pointed out.

"Well, Edward…" intervened Conan, "We have one more thing to add. It may help clear things out. Before this even started, we were warned about someone: A man called PT Boomer."

"PT…Petey…" Emily's eyes went wide with horror. "That's him! That's our saboteur!"

"Let's get that bastard," growled Edward. "He won't get away with this, I swear it!"

"But how?" asked Timmy

"I have an idea: Let's set a trap for him." intervened Dante.

"Err…why are you here?" asked Thomas. "You're shedded at Crovan's Gate."

"I followed Timmy here. Anyways! We have the one responsible. But no ideas on how to get him, right? Means we need a plan."

"And I suppose you have one?" Edward asked.

"Indeed I do."

The other engines listened as Dante explained what he had in mind.

Immediately, the plan was set into motion. Jewelie ran to alert the police of the identity of the saboteur, leaving him no other choice but to escape. The harbours were all closed and under guard, with Royal Navy gunships preventing any escape by sea.

As part of the plan, some trucks were derailed to block the Vicarstown bridge, while gunpowder vans were placed in a siding, labelled with a large red X on their doors.

Policemen at Barrow were alerted, so that, even if Boomer passed the blockade, he'd be gunned down.

Noah and Jewelie were located in a signal box, with searchlights and two hunting rifles. Jewelie was given a crash course on how to operate said gun, but time wasn't something they had.

After a whole day of preparations, night came over the 20th of October.

"It's make or break." muttered Edward repeatedly, while everyone waited.

Minutes went by. Then an hour, then two. And then, it finally happened.

"ALERT! ALERT!" screamed a van.

Boomer cursed, and forced the door of the van to find…nothing.

"What the fu…?"

A swift punch to the neck interrupted him. Before he could recover, Boomer was on the ground, being strangled.

"What's he doing?! That wasn't the plan!" Noah screamed, horrified.

Boomer was stronger than he looked like, and eventually managed to overpower the attacker. Before long, both began rolling along the floor punching each other. They soon rolled out of the van into the moonlight, where they got a good look at each other's face.

"I've seen your face now, Boomer," said Conan.

"Who the fuck…wait a minute…that smell…you're bonded to a locomotive…then you must DIE!""

He was shot in the head before he could stab Conan. Undeterred, Boomer began healing himself. As he did so, Conan let him go, and launched a flare, then a bunch of police surrounded him.

"Put your hands up and come with us," said Chief Murphy. Unexpectedly, Boomer began chuckling.

"You can't command me! You can't kill me! Bring it on, I'll fight all of you with my two fucking fists!"

"Don't play confidence with us," said Chief Murphy. "Just put your hands up and do as you're told."

"No, you put YOUR hands up."

Boomer snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the guns levitated out of the hands of the policemen! They struggled to hold on, but couldn't. The guns then turned around and aimed at the policemen.

"Yes, that's right, I am in control," said Boomer. "Now hands up before I make them kill you." He snapped his fingers again, one gun went off and hit an officer in the shoulder! "That was just a warning, disobey and things will be worse."

Faced with no other choice, the policemen held up their hands. Boomer began to smirk. Conan couldn't do anything: one of the guns was also aiming at him.

"Now, where is the gunpowder?" Boomer asked. "One of you knows, and I ain't leaving here until I learn who."

"There is no gunpowder on this island, hasn't been since the Great War," Chief Murphy answered.

"You lie!" Boomer shouted.

"And what would I have to gain from lying to you?" Chief Murphy asked. "You'll kill me whether I lie or tell the truth. But you need something from us, otherwise, we'd be dead already."

"Very insightful, I'll give you that," said Boomer. "I mean to blow up London and everyone in there. And I need lots of gunpowder to do it."

"Blow up London? Why would you want to blow London up?" asked Conan.

"Because I'm insane. Next question?"

As the standoff continued, Thomas decided to leave his hiding spot. Boomer was standing on a rail, and this guy needed to be stopped. The E2 stared at Boomer, trying to judge the perfect moment to strike.

"Don't you think about it, Thomas," warned Edward.

"I'll do what I must," said Thomas. "Driver, full steam!"

His driver did so and Thomas began charging.

Boomer didn't notice until the E2 ploughed into him! He was sent flying some 15 metres, before hitting his head hard on a flatbed.

Boomer lost his control over the guns which all fell onto the ground. The police wasted no time and quickly picked them up, then ran over to the flatbed.

"Shoot him!"

"Not on my life," said Boomer.

Everyone who could fired. Noah, Jewelie, the officers… But Boomer didn't go down. In fact, it seemed any shots fired didn't do anything.

"Hahaha… HAHAHA HAHA!"

"Stop laughing!" screamed a cop. "STOP FUCKING LAUGHING! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Cool yourself, Jack," said Chief Murphy.

Boomer stood up, bleeding from a thousand wounds, but unfazed.

"I'm afraid it's not over," said Boomer. "It will never be over. Páre me makriá!"

Suddenly, he began to throw grenades, as some sort of golden dust formed around him. Once the dust and grenade smoke cleared, Boomer was gone!

"Search the area, he can't have gone too far!" Chief Murphy shouted. Everyone searched all around. But no trace was found of Boomer.

"Fuck this. Let's just say he jumped off the Vicarstown Bridge and bloody drowned," said Sergeant William.

"Officially tortured by you, right?" another officer asked innocently. Will gave a low growl.

Everybody went home after that, Thomas returning to the sheds. Edward was the only one awake.

"I will admit, Thomas, I thought you were done with helping others after Henry refused to come out," the K2 remarked.

"Well…I couldn't leave Conan in danger," said Thomas.

The case was declared closed, and next morning, newspapers proudly pronounced Boomer's death. All services resumed and passengers began boarding again.

News arrived from Horwich some days later. Lily was still under repair, but she wouldn't die. All the same, the Fat Director knew he would need more engines, particularly one to help with the construction of the Peel Godred Line, something Petunia was too heavy to do. Timmy couldn't be spared either: he was too busy building the Lasgair Line. Greeny couldn't be trusted: he'd spend more time trying to attack Thomas. The day after Boomer was declared dead, he rang the Great Northern. Sir Herbert Nigel Gresley, the GNR's CME, answered the phone.

"Hello, this is Sir Topham Hatt of the North Western Railway."

"Oh, Sir Topham! Are you doing alright?!" asked Gresley. "I heard your railway had been sabotaged!"

"It had," answered the Fat Diretor. "Fortunately, the saboteur, a man going by Boomer, ended up falling off Vicarstown Bridge and dying. In any case, I'm in need of an engine to help with building a new branch line. Would you happen to have any you can spare?"

"Well," said Gresley, "that depends: how big is your branch line?"

"This branch line runs from Killdane to Peel Godred," answered the Fat Director. "It will use both steam and electric locomotives. But I'll mainly need a steam locomotive for the construction of it, as putting up overhead wires will take time. Can you spare any mixed-traffic engines that can help with building the line?"

"I'll look through my roster and come back to you," said Gresley. "Pleasure doing business, my good man!"

With that, both said goodbye and hung up.

"At least he had a better response than the LSWR," sighed the Fat Director. "I've got to do something about Greeny though: that Green Metropolitan tank is proving to be too much trouble."

A week passed without any more incidents, until Gresley called the Fat Director again.

"Sorry it took so long, Sir Topham," said Gresley, "but I finally managed to find an engine I can send over to help."

The Fat Director was quick to notice Gresley didn't seem happy.

"Sir Gresley, is everything ok? You don't sound too happy."

"That's because I'm not: the engine I can spare isn't one you want."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I'll be blunt: the number of this engine is 1638, or as you may better know, 87546."

The Fat Director's eyes widened and his skin went pale.

"87546?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!"

"Afraid not: he's the only engine we can actually spare, I'm sorry Sir Topham, I really wish he wasn't." Gresley then began to become cheerful again. "However, I do have a way to make it up to you."

"What would that be?" asked the Fat Director.

"As you may have heard, my A1 Pacifics have entered service this year, starting with 1470 Great Northern in April. Prior to this, in 1920, I had built a prototype A0 that came out with flaws and thus never got used in regular service, only test runs and experimentation. Now that all the defects have been cured and my A1s are entering service, he's no longer needed. Therefore, I'm offering to give the A0 to you, so you have an express engine. Do you accept my offer?"

"You know what? I do," said the Fat Director. "Alright, you have a deal. I'll call you back to arrange a purchase price later. Right now, I need to inform my engines of the news."

The Fat Director had a forlorn look when he came down to the sheds.

"Engines, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I've managed to borrow an engine from the Great Northern to help with building the Peel Godred branch line."

"Before you tell us the bad news," asked Olive, "how'd you convince Lord Harwick to agree to the electrification?"

"Part of the reason was to have steam work on the line as well, but the main draw for him was having a station built at Abbey for his family, tenants, and students of the Cronk Abbey School. He agreed and allowed us to use the land. And now… The bad news: the engine Gresley loaned me was the only one that could be spared, and you won't like it: 87546. Yes, I know: he and I are upset too. He even told me so himself."

Everyone protested except for Petunia, John, and Timmy.

"Like I said, I'm upset too," said the Fat Director. "However, Gresley also agreed to give me his prototype A0 Pacific for express trains. As for 87546, he'll leave once the Peel Godred Line is finished. Also, he'll mostly be staying at Killdane, so you shouldn't have too much interaction with him. If he causes any more serious trouble, I'll be sure to send him packing."

Later on, Conan and Jewelie went to visit Aila and William. The idea was Noah's.

"Are you sure about this?" Jewelie asked. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"All the same, Noah's right: we can't keep them out forever," Conan replied. "And it's best we do this before their time comes."

Once Alia opened the door, she asked a simple question, one made terrifying by her steely Scottish accent.

"Whit dae ye want?"

"We've come to make up," said Conan. "But don't think this means we forgive you: Jewelie and I are allowed to choose what we want to do and don't need you to decide for us."

"Come in. Tea is almost ready."