He stamped both feet down as hard as he could – and launched himself into the air as the ground fell away.
Branches lashed at him. A thicker bough hit his chest; winded, he clutched his arms tightly around it. A moment’s dizziness as he was whiplashed back and forth, then he came to rest, entangled in the foliage with broken twigs digging painfully into his flesh. The railway line was directly below his precarious position.
He clung on, catching his breath – then looked up in alarm at the sound of gunfire.
The shriek of brakes had drawn the attention of everyone in the lead carriage. ‘What was that?’ Kroll demanded, looking back up the hillside.
‘There,’ snapped Rasche, pointing. The train had just negotiated the second hairpin – but the Nazis saw the loose wagon coming down the first long leg of track above them.
‘It’ll crash into us!’ said Schneider as the brake van picked up speed.
‘No,’ said Kroll. ‘Someone’s aboard it.’ He turned to Banna, who was seated between his guards at the front of the compartment. ‘Your friends are trying to rescue you,’ he said in English. The Egyptian’s momentary relief vanished as he added: ‘They won’t reach us. Walther!’
‘Sir!’ said the huge man.
‘Tell the men to shoot at that wagon as it goes past. I want everyone aboard it dead!’
‘Jared, they know we’re here,’ Nina warned. The train had exited the loop and was now coming back down the leg of track below – and she saw Walther lean from the first coach to bellow orders at those in the wagons behind him. Men with sub-machine guns appeared in the open doors. ‘Shit, they’re going to shoot at us!’
‘Get behind the brake wheel and stay low,’ ordered Zane, hurrying to the front. ‘They’re aiming up at us – the floor should give you some protection.’
She took his advice. ‘So what are you doing?’
‘Shooting first!’ He lined up his weapon on the approaching train – and opened fire, sending a sweeping spray of bullets along its side.
Windows in the carriage shattered, splinters flying from the flanks of the wooden wagons behind it. One Nazi was hit in the chest and fell backwards amongst his fellows, another toppling out with a scream. The steep slope threw him back under the wheels, spraying the two rearmost trucks with blood.
Zane kept firing as the train passed below, a third man falling as a wound burst open in his abdomen – but then a hollow clack came from his MP5 as the magazine ran dry. ‘Down!’
Nina dropped flat, the Israeli hunching beside her as automatic weapons opened up. Bullets ripped through the old wooden walls, flinders stabbing at the pair. The heavy steel chassis clanged as rounds struck it hammer blows from below. Then the gunfire tapered off, a few final shots hitting the rear of the van before it rolled beyond the Nazis’ firing angle.
Nina’s relief was short-lived as Zane saw the turn coming up ahead. ‘Harah!’ he gasped. ‘The brake!’
They both leapt up and grabbed the wheel, forcing it around. Another hideous shriek assaulted their ears. The van slowed as it reached the tight bend, but barely enough. Even braced, Zane still struggled to stay standing, while Nina would have been thrown against the wall if not for her white-knuckled grip on the brake as the wagon hurtled around the hairpin.
A harsh clatter over the metallic squeal – then a loud bang as something hit the van’s underside before bouncing away down the hillside. ‘That was one of the brakes,’ said Zane, still holding the wheel in place.
Nina tried to push it back. ‘Let go – we’ve got to catch up!’ They had come around on to the second leg of the descent, the train pulling away from them farther down the track.
A disbelieving look. ‘We might not be able to stop.’
‘The brakes are still working!’ That she had to shout over the shrill was proof enough. ‘Come on, speed us up!’
Zane reluctantly released the wheel. The noise stopped, and the brake van ran freely once more. The Israeli swapped his empty MP5 for Nina’s, while she went to the front, watching as the distance to the train began to shrink.
Eddie finally extricated himself from the tangle of branches. He checked that he still had his gun, then prepared to drop. The shooting had stopped; all he could hear now was the clank and huff of the train.
Which was getting louder, and louder—
He looked up the track – and saw the locomotive coming right at him.
If he stayed in the tree, he would be blasted by superheated steam. But if he fell to the track, he wouldn’t have time to scramble clear before the train mowed him down . . .
He kept hold for a couple more seconds, then dropped—
He landed with a heavy clang on the front footplate, just above the cowcatcher. He grabbed the boiler for support, immediately regretting it as the hot metal scalded his hands. Yelping, he let go and twisted to grip the footplate’s edge.
The heat radiating from the smokebox was almost unbearable. He leaned over until he could peer around the blocky water tank on the boiler’s side. The line’s gentle curve revealed the single passenger carriage and six wagons trailing the engine.
Some distance behind, he saw the brake van rolling in pursuit. But the Nazis had also spotted it. Walther shouted orders from the carriage, the commands relayed back along each wagon until they reached the second-to-last car. A man in its open door waved to signal understanding, then he and another Nazi started to clamber back along the side of the truck.
Eddie realised what they were doing. The last wagon contained heavy equipment – and heavy weapons.
He tugged a sleeve over his palm before taking hold of the edge of the smokebox and reaching with his other hand for the water tank. Grimacing at the heat, he manoeuvred himself around the front of the boiler.
The footplate above the wheels was only narrow, the overhanging tank making it all the harder for him to maintain a toehold as he shuffled sideways. Machinery pounded beneath him, jets of steam hissing from the cylinder and the valve gear slicing back and forth just below his feet. The poor condition of the track amplified the locomotive’s rocking motion – a particularly severe jolt made him slip, the toe of one boot skipping off a wheel before he jerked it away. One second later, and the connecting rod would have sliced his foot off.
Heart pounding, he continued onwards. Movement through the grubby round window in the cab’s face – the fireman’s head swinging repeatedly in and out of view as he shovelled coal into the furnace.
The two Nazis reached the ammo wagon, one hanging from a railing as he fumbled to release the door’s catch. The brake van was still steadily closing. Eddie glimpsed a pale face inside it: Nina.
The threat to her life spurred him on. He changed tack, pressing both hands flat on the top of the tank and taking all his weight on his arms as he swung himself along the footplate. Walther leaned from the first carriage again, barely twenty feet away, but he was looking rearwards. The ammo truck’s door finally opened. The first Nazi ducked inside, his companion clambering along the wagon’s flank to follow him.
Open an RPG-7’s crate, prep the launcher, load the round, take aim, fire; Eddie knew from experience that it was neither a complicated nor time-consuming process. He moved even faster, at last reaching the cab. Grabbing a handrail, he hauled himself into its open side.
The fireman’s back was to him – but the driver reacted to the intruder with alarm. He reached for an overhanging chain to sound the whistle in warning—
Eddie didn’t have time to get his gun. Instead, he shoulder-barged the fireman. The man squawked, dropping his shovel as he collided with the driver. They caught the throttle lever, pulling it open. More steam rushed into the cylinders, and the locomotive lurched and gained speed.
The Englishman drew his weapon – but the driver pushed the fireman back at him. The impact knocked the pistol f
rom Eddie’s hand. It landed amongst the spilled coals at their feet.
Eddie drove the fireman back across the cab in a third volley of human ping-pong. This time, the Nazi staggered in front of the firebox – and a tongue of flame from the open hatch caught his leg.
Even with fireproof clothing, the heat made the man scream. He jumped away – only to be hammered into unconsciousness as Eddie snatched up the shovel and smacked the blade against the back of his head. The fireman crumpled, his head landing in the mouth of the furnace and instantly being swallowed by a ball of greasy flames.
The driver recoiled in horror – then made another lunge for the chain. Eddie whipped the shovel at him, catching the other man a solid blow, but too late. The whistle shrilled.
He hit the Nazi again, sending him spinning against the firebox, then threw the shovel down to grapple him. ‘Woo-woo, fuckface!’ he growled, repeatedly pounding the man’s head against the unyielding metal of the controls. Blood spouted on the third strike; he let go, and the driver collapsed beside the burning fireman.
The engine shuddered. Eddie glanced through a porthole to see the hairpin approaching with alarming speed. He was tempted to leave the throttle wide open and send the whole train flying off the track with all the Nazis aboard, but then remembered that Banna was still a prisoner. With a muttered curse, he pushed the lever back to roughly its original position; stopping the train would be suicide, as he would be swarmed by soldiers.
It was still moving too fast for the turn, though. The wheels screamed as the engine entered the hairpin, coal skittering across the footplate. Eddie grabbed his gun before it followed the black chunks out of the cab’s open side. Behind, the carriage shimmied on its twin bogies, throwing its occupants around in their seats. The four-wheeled wagons were affected even more as the vibrations snaked along the length of the train. One man was flung from an open door, cartwheeling down the hill before a boulder brought him to a skull-cracking stop.
The locomotive slowed, the sheer weight of iron and steel holding it on the track. Eddie looked across the hairpin at the rest of the train. The soldiers who had entered the ammo car came back into view at its open door. One held an RPG-7 launcher, hoisting the metal tube on to his shoulder and leaning out, his companion holding on to him as he prepared to fire.
He took aim, forefinger finding the trigger . . .
Eddie’s own finger was faster.
Most of his shots from the rocking loco hit only wood – but one found its target, sending a spurt of red over the launcher as the Nazi’s cheek blew apart.
The man fell back into the wagon – reflexively pulling the trigger.
The RPG-7 round burst from its tube, propelled by its initial booster charge. It hit the stacked crates in the ammo truck, bouncing off – then the main rocket fired. The wagon’s interior filled with flames as the warhead ricocheted in the confined space.
The second man dropped and shielded his face as the grenade whirled past and wedged between two crates, fire spewing from its tail. The warhead was impact-detonated, but it had hit the boxes before arming itself.
The Nazi realised what had happened. He scrambled over and grabbed the squirming projectile by its conical warhead, struggling against the rocket’s force to hurl it through the open door—
The motor burned out – and its self-destruct activated.
The warhead exploded in his hand, ripping the wagon open. Planks and panels scattered along the track. Part of a wall fell outwards, only a buckled metal support keeping it attached as it dragged along the ground.
Wind fanned the flames. Cracks and thumps came from burning boxes as the ammunition inside cooked off and exploded. A flaming case fell from the open side, rolling to a stop inside the hairpin. Bullets ripped through the wood and thudded against the train. One man was hit in the stomach and collapsed with a scream.
Walther, however, was only concerned about the rounds from a much closer source. He looked towards the locomotive. ‘Es ist die Englander!’
Eddie fired again, but the huge Nazi jerked back into the carriage, the bullet blasting a chunk from the window frame. ‘Shit!’
‘Scheiße!’ gasped Walther, staring at the broken wood where his head had just been. ‘He’s in the engine – he must have killed the drivers!’
Kroll glared at him. ‘So kill him!’
‘What about the others behind us?’ Rasche demanded. The brake van came back into view on the leg of track above them as the train exited the hairpin.
‘Tell the men to keep shooting – no, wait!’ The obese Nazi twisted in his seat, glimpsing the wrecked and burning ammo truck before it was blocked from his view by the rest of the train. ‘Detach the rear car! It’s dragging on the ground; they’ll crash into it!’
Rasche shouted the order to the men behind, while Walther brought up his gun.
‘Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!’ Nina cried as Zane prepared to strafe the train again. ‘You might hit Eddie!’
‘Where is he?’
‘Where do you think?’ She pointed at the locomotive. A familiar stocky, balding figure stood in the cab.
The Israeli made a tsk! sound, then redirected his aim at the Nazis in the wagons. ‘Is it okay if I shoot them?’
‘Go right ahead – wait, what’re they doing?’ A command had been passed down the train, and now a man was being hoisted from the door of the second-to-last truck by the others inside. He clambered on to the roof, then hurried along it to climb down into the gap in front of the ammo car. ‘Shit! They’re going to uncouple it!’ A moment later, the burning wagon separated from the train, rapidly falling behind as the smashed bodywork scraped along the track bed like an anchor.
Zane fired, the climber falling and being run over by the ammo truck, then darted to the brake wheel. ‘We’ve got to stop! If we hit it—’
‘I’m not leaving Eddie!’ said Nina.
Her determined, anguished face told the Mossad agent that the only way she would abandon her husband would be if she were unconscious, or dead. Unwilling to put her into either state, he nevertheless took hold of the brake control. ‘If we don’t, we’ll never make it around the next bend.’
Nina took in the track below. ‘Slow us down – but don’t stop,’ she told Zane as she moved to the compartment’s left side to act as a counterweight. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
He turned the wheel. The remaining brake shoes closed, sparks flying again. ‘What?’ he shouted over the noise.
‘If we’re still moving fast enough when we catch up with that truck, we’ll ram it right off the track!’
‘Or we might go right off the track – or it could blow up and take us with it!’
‘Just do it,’ she ordered. Zane gave her a somewhat sarcastic yes, ma’am look.
The van entered the tight left hairpin – faster than before. Both its passengers had to strain to stay upright. Stray rounds from the burning ammo box struck wood, Zane flinching as one seared past his head.
The wheels on the inside of the bend skipped along the rail as the van tipped. The Israeli turned beseechingly towards Nina, wanting to brake harder, but she shook her head. ‘Keep going! We’re almost—’
The vehicle lurched as the rusted track buckled under the stress. Nina shrieked and lost her footing. Both inside wheels left the ground, the wagon starting to overturn—
Zane let go of the brake and threw himself at the inside wall. The impact and shift in weight arrested the van’s roll . . . then it fell back down, kicking up a huge burst of sparks as the wheels hit the rail, and flew out of the curve like a slingshot stone. Nina and Zane exchanged relieved glances – which vanished as they remembered what was waiting for them.
He jumped up to look ahead – and immediately dived back to the floor. Nina took his hint and did the same—
The brake van rammed the t
rundling ammo truck, the latter’s dragging bodywork tearing away as the collision propelled it forward. The two couplers locked together – and the wagons raced down the hill after the train with ever-increasing speed.
Nina raised her head to see the less-than-ideal result of her plan. ‘Buggeration and fuckery!’
Eddie saw the brake van almost overturn on the loop, but then his view was blocked by the passenger carriage. A glance from the cab reassured him that Nina and Zane had made it around – but his brief appearance drew fire from Walther. The German bellowed more orders.
The Englishman could guess what they were: Walther was telling his men to climb out and move along the train to retake the engine. He couldn’t cover both sides at once; sooner or later they would overpower him.
He would have to take the fight to them first.
The next right-hand hairpin was approaching. Eddie thought for a moment, then pulled the throttle lever open. The loco’s huffing exertion increased. He scrambled on top of the coal bunker behind the cab, then jumped on to the first carriage’s roof – and ran.
Its occupants heard him. ‘Tötet ihn! Tötet die Engländer!’ Kroll yelled. Bullets punched up through the metal behind Eddie’s feet. He yelled, jumping over the gap behind the passenger coach to land on the first of the goods wagons.
The loot truck. The Nazis’ most precious possessions were under guard inside.
Not for long.
Handrails ran above the doors on each side. Eddie shoved the gun into his jacket as he angled right – and jumped, twisting in mid air to grab the railing as he fell.
The train swept into the turn at dangerous speed. Eddie swung through the open door at the two Nazi guards—
The nearest took the Englishman’s feet to his stomach. He flew backwards and disappeared with a shriek through the other doorway.
Eddie landed and drew his gun – but the second guard dived at him. Both men fell against the pithos, tearing loose one of the ropes holding it. The Nazi pinned Eddie down, driving a knee into his stomach before swiping the pistol from his hand.