The Yorkshireman pounded a retaliatory fist into the Nazi’s side. The other man yelled. Eddie twisted, trying to throw him off – but the soldier’s hands clamped around his throat and squeezed with vice-like force.
31
Flames from the ammo truck whipped back at the brake van, more bullets cooking off like deadly firecrackers. ‘This thing could blow any second,’ Zane warned. ‘Great plan!’
‘I’m an archaeologist, not Casey Jones!’ Nina shouted back. ‘We’ve got to disconnect it!’
‘By “we”, you mean . . .’ the Israeli muttered as he went to the front veranda, arms raised to protect his face from the heat. Nina took the brake as he leaned over the barrier and groped for the coupler’s release handle.
It was just out of reach. He pushed himself further, toes leaving the floor as his fingertips rubbed the rust-scabbed metal—
A grenade explosion shook both wagons. The lurch sent the Mossad agent over the wooden wall. He kicked his legs back to counterbalance himself, but too late.
He dropped—
His right hand clamped around the coupler handle – and he forced his arm straight, taking all his weight on his wrist and locked elbow. But he couldn’t hold himself upright. He slowly slid sideways, about to fall under the brake van’s whirling wheels . . .
Nina grabbed his legs. ‘I’ve got you!’ Zane gasped in breathless relief, then tugged the lever.
It didn’t move.
He tried again, harder. It shifted, but the couplers remained locked. The collision had buckled the metal.
More ordnance detonated, flinging out shrapnel. Nina ducked, then strained to haul the Israeli back into the caboose. Her plan had failed, and now they faced a choice between being blown up or flung off the track—
‘Wait, wait!’ he yelled. ‘It’s moving, I’ve got—’
A harsh clank – and Nina fell backwards, dragging Zane with her. The coupler opened, separating the two wagons . . . but they were still rolling downhill at matching speeds, racing towards the next hairpin. ‘Get the brake!’ he yelled.
She scrambled to the pillar and twisted the wheel. The brake van shuddered, slowing – and the other wagon suddenly raced away as if propelled by a rocket. Zane joined her, tightening the brakes’ grip.
Trailing smoke, the ammunition truck reached the bend and whipped around it. For one impossible moment, it seemed as if the runaway wagon would make it through the turn . . . then its front wheels jolted off the track. It bounded over the sleepers and careered down the hillside, crashing into a clump of scrawny trees and coming to a precarious halt not far above a lower leg of the track.
The brake van followed it around the hairpin, again on the verge of overturning . . . before steadying and coming out of the turn. ‘How many more of these goddamn reverses are there?’ Nina complained rhetorically. The train was drawing away from them. ‘Take off the brakes, we need to catch up.’
Zane complied. Gravity took hold again, the van regaining speed. They had lost ground on the Nazis, but she calculated that they would be able to keep pace, and she felt a small surge of hope as she saw that there was no sign of Eddie on the ground beside the line. He was still aboard the train . . .
He was – and fighting for his life.
Eddie struggled to break the Nazi’s grip on his neck, but the young man’s tendons felt like coiled steel. He switched tactics, driving punches at the soldier’s face with as much force as he could muster from his awkward position. The man recoiled from the first blow, and the second, spitting blood, but if anything the attacks only made him squeeze harder. Another punch, but the Englishman was weakening . . .
Something moved through the edge of his vision. The loose rope from the earthenware jar, swinging back and forth as the train rocked—
He grabbed it – and whipped it into a loop around the Nazi’s neck.
The man’s triumphant snarl abruptly changed to a rictus of alarm as Eddie yanked the rope tight. He released one hand to pull at it—
Eddie took full advantage, again driving his fist at the other man’s jaw – this time without the Nazi’s arm obstructing the strike.
There was a sharp crack as the soldier’s front teeth snapped. The man screamed as exposed nerves were rasped by broken enamel. He jerked back – allowing Eddie to slam a knee into his side. The soldier hit the floor.
Eddie gripped the rope with both hands and pulled as hard as he could, at the same time twisting on his side to deliver a two-footed kick. The Nazi rolled away – and out of the door. He was dragged along by the train for a moment before his neck broke with a horrible crack.
Eddie released the line. The end snapped away, then fluttered limply in the wind as the body fell beside the track.
Wheezing, he got up. He needed to find the Andreas relic – but found himself facing the pithos. ‘Pith off,’ he said, managing a smile.
Kroll stared back at the burning ammunition truck, before remembering that there were much closer dangers. ‘Walther! Is the Englander dead?’
‘The men are climbing along both sides of the train,’ Walther replied. ‘They’ll get him.’
The Nazi leader leaned over to look down the train’s length. ‘They’d bet—’
Sudden horror choked off his words as he saw something emerge from the wagon behind. Something as tall as a man, engraved with ancient Greek text and topped with silver . . . ‘The jar!’ he managed to cry. ‘The water jar!’
The other Nazi leaders rushed to see – as the pithos was kicked out of the truck. It barrelled away down the slope, rolling faster and faster . . . until it hit a rock. The great jar exploded into a billion fragments, its precious contents splashing over the bleak hillside.
Rasche shook with anger. ‘The water . . .’ He rounded on Kroll. ‘That was all the fucking water! What the hell are we supposed to do now?’
Kroll struggled to control his own fury. ‘We carry on with the plan,’ he told the others, before adding to Rasche alone: ‘I think we’re committed to it now.’
Rasche glared at him, then went to a window to scream at the men clambering along the train’s side. ‘He’s in the treasure wagon! Kill that bastard! Come on, move!’
Eddie heard the enraged yelling even over the locomotive’s huff. He was about to have visitors.
Where was the relic? He had seen it being loaded, but one wooden box looked much like another. It had been amongst the last of the treasures put aboard, though, so it would be near the doors. Considering its importance, it would also have been put somewhere safe – or at least, he realised as he glanced at the ropes that had held the pithos, secure.
Only one crate was tied down. He was about to yank at the knots when more shouts prompted him to check outside. He peered out of the left-hand door – to see soldiers clambering along the train, holding the railings and guttering at the edge of the roof. A man reached across from the wagon behind to get a grip on the loot truck—
Eddie shot him in the stomach. The Nazi hit the ground with a crunch of bones. Another round took out the man behind him. The others following tried desperately to find cover, but by now the Yorkshireman had darted to the other side of the wagon to take out a third man less than two feet from the open door. The corpse flailed away down the hillside.
He darted back to the crate and released the ties. The lid had been nailed shut, but dashing the box apart on the floor took care of that. Crumpled paper spilled out – and amongst it, the dull gleam of bronze.
Eddie picked up the relic. It was too large to fit into any of his pockets. He still needed both hands, so he hoisted up the back of his leather jacket and shoved the artefact head first inside the waistband of his jeans, flat against his buttocks. ‘Can’t believe putting a fish in my pants is the least insane thing I’ve done today,’ he muttered. It was far from comfortable, and risked
limiting his movements, but he shrugged the jacket back down over its protruding tail and went to the left-hand door.
Their comrades’ deaths had dissuaded the other soldiers from advancing along the train’s side. They could still come from above, though. If he was going to rescue Banna, he had to get on the roof before them.
He looked ahead – to see the driverless locomotive lurching into the next hairpin. ‘Oh, shite!’
The snaking effect was more violent as it rippled back along the train. Eddie grabbed the door frame to save himself from being thrown out. A truncated scream came from behind; he twisted to see a soldier – or rather, half a soldier – being spat out by the grinding wheels. The Nazi had taken cover between two of the trucks, only to be shaken loose on to the track.
Eddie clung on. If the train derailed here, the terrain was steep enough to kill everyone aboard when the wagons rolled over. He braced himself, ready to dive out and take his chances if the engine came off the tracks . . .
Somehow, all its wheels stayed on the rails. The rocking subsided as the locomotive clanked on to the next leg of the descent.
Eddie recognised what lay at its end – the extremely tight spiral loop that he had passed with Julieta on his way into the Enklave. There was no way the train would make it around at its current speed.
He pulled himself on to the roof. Smoke rose ahead where the burning ammo truck was wedged amongst the trees. Cracks and bangs warned him that bullets were still cooking off.
The brake van was freewheeling down the line above. He glimpsed Nina inside the bullet-pocked wagon. A wave to assure her that he was okay, then he narrowed his eyes against the hot smoke from the loco’s chimney and moved forward, wondering how the hell he was going to get Banna out of a carriage full of armed and angry Nazis.
‘He’s alive, Eddie’s alive!’ Nina cried, seeing her husband on the roof.
Zane pointed behind the Englishman. ‘So are they!’ The soldiers climbing along the train resumed their pursuit. ‘Get the brake!’
He brought up his sub-machine gun as Nina took the wheel. Zane aimed, waiting until he was sure that Eddie was beyond the MP5’s spread of fire – then pulled the trigger.
Bullets sprayed the train. A man on top of one wagon was hit in the leg and fell over the edge, another Nazi clambering along the side taking an explosion of splinters to his eyes from a near miss and losing his grip in shock. He was dragged under the wheels and vanished in a wet burst of red.
The other men on the roof dropped flat – but Zane’s magazine was now empty, and he had no replacement. The silence told the Nazis all they needed to know. Guns came up—
‘Down!’ Zane yelled. Nina dropped as more bullets ripped into the brake van. Planks cracked and split, showering them with broken wood. There was a sharp bang as a supporting beam gave way – and a whole section of the curved metal roof crashed down into the rear of the compartment, pieces of the van’s side scattering on to the hillside behind it.
The front half of the wagon remained intact, but was far from undamaged, more rounds striking home. Nina buried her head in her arms as a bullet hit the brake wheel’s column with a shrieking clang. Zane crawled across the floor as another plank blew apart behind him. Then the onslaught died down as the caboose and train passed each other, heading in opposite directions.
The Mossad agent risked a look through the ragged hole. ‘Harah.’ His attack had delayed the Nazis but not deterred them; the men on the roof were already getting back up. ‘They’re still going after him.’
Nina rose to see – but her own life took priority as the battered brake van rumbled towards the next hairpin. ‘Oh, crap!’ she gasped, grabbing the wheel.
Zane sprang up to help her. The brakes shrieked in protest again. This time, something was wrong: there was a new noise, a grating rasp accompanied by a harsh judder. ‘That doesn’t sound good!’
‘Let’s hope it works better than it sounds!’ Nina maintained her hold. The wagon slowed, but the noise and vibration only grew worse.
Another lurch as the van swept into the hairpin. This time, they had shed enough speed to get around without teetering on the very edge of disaster – but as they eased the wheel back open, a clamour of disintegrating metal gave notice that another set of brake shoes had failed. Catastrophe was still waiting in the wings.
Schneider peered nervously at the track ahead. ‘We’re going too fast! We’ll never make it around the loop.’
‘Somebody has to climb into the engine and slow us down,’ said Kroll, his gaze fixed upon Rasche.
His second-in-command was not pleased. ‘What the hell do I know about driving a train?’ He addressed the men guarding Banna. ‘You two! Do either of you know how it works?’
‘I once rode in the cab when I was a boy . . .’ one offered hesitantly.
‘That’s good enough. Get out there and stop this thing!’
The soldier gave his companion a worried look, then saluted and went to the door. He was about to open it when a thump came from the roof at the rear of the carriage.
Walther’s face crunched into a snarl. ‘It’s the Englander!’
Kroll glowered at the huge man. ‘What are you waiting for? Kill him!’
Eddie hunched down, feet wide apart for stability on the rocking coach. The smoke was thicker this close to the locomotive, cinders searing his exposed skin. He shielded his face, trying to come up with a plan to save Banna that didn’t involve simply swinging through a window and hoping for the best—
He flinched at a gunshot, fearing that the men in the carriage were firing through the roof again. But the crack had come from one side. The train was passing the ammunition truck. The trees around it were ablaze, the wooden wagon an inferno. Forget bullets; the risk now was from explosives. He turned his head to watch it go by, trying to judge when he would be out of danger . . .
A different threat came into sight – soldiers on the roof, coming after him.
He crouched as low as he could as he drew the gun. But he didn’t have enough bullets left to kill them all.
That didn’t stop him from trying.
The leading Nazi was hit in the shoulder, losing his balance. The crack of bone as he landed head first was audible even over the engine’s din. The other soldiers dropped to their bellies, bringing up their MP5s to shoot along the roof—
A huge explosion came from the hillside.
The ammo wagon blew apart in a massive fireball – disintegrating the trees. Unsupported, the truck’s blazing remains jolted loose and hurtled onwards down the hillside, the mangled front end of the chassis biting hard into the ground and sending the entire wreck flipping end over end at the train—
It hit the two rear wagons. Both were bowled off the line, almost dragging the truck ahead after them before the coupler snapped. The jolt threw Eddie’s pursuers from the roof and into the carnage below. Nazis were flung shrieking from the open doors and crushed under the wrecks as they rolled down the slope. The fiery remnants of the ammunition wagon bounded through the chaos, flames swallowing soldiers and exploding grenades ripping bodies into bloody pieces.
Eddie clung to the roof as the remainder of the train shuddered. The two destroyed wagons had contained half the Nazi troops – and all the other deaths meant that Kroll’s forces were now seriously depleted. But even with those losses, he still had another two truckloads of soldiers, plus however many were in the passenger carriage—
A slam from below. Eddie twisted, catching sight of a man’s head; someone had come out of a door and was climbing along the side of the coach towards the engine.
One fewer to deal with inside, then. He looked back to check that there were no Nazis coming after him, then rose and moved to get a clear shot at the man heading for the locomotive—
A hand clamped around his ankle like a bear trap.
>
Walther had leaned out of the coach to grab the Englishman, pulling hard on his leg from behind. Eddie tried to bring his gun to bear, but the hulking Nazi had already thrown him off balance. He fell, landing mere inches from the edge of the roof. The choice was between keeping hold of the gun and stopping himself from going over – he took the latter, the pistol skittering along the weather-scoured metal before clunking to a stop in the gutter.
The German tugged harder, trying to drag him over the side. Eddie kicked, catching Walther’s fingers. A satisfying roar of pain came from below. The hand withdrew. The Yorkshireman rolled away from the edge, the bronze fish’s tail digging into his back, and scrambled for his gun.
A hefty thud came from behind as Walther clambered on to the roof. Eddie lunged for the weapon – but the Nazi hurled himself on to him, his sheer weight pounding the breath from the Englishman. Before Eddie could recover, the SS man hauled him up and turned to sling him off the back of the coach on to the track below—
The train lurched violently as it clattered over the little bridge at the top of the loop.
Alarmed, Walther dropped his opponent and fell to his knees, gripping a protruding ventilator cover to steady himself. Then tension turned to triumph as he saw something an arm’s length away.
Eddie searched for the gun – only to see the Nazi snatch it up with his free hand. Murderous glee flashed in Walther’s eyes as he took aim—
The soldier reached the cab and pulled the brake lever.
The train staggered as the remaining wagons concertinaed against each other. It skidded along the track, wheels locked – then swung into the loop. Everyone inside was hurled sideways as it screeched around the tight descending turn.
Those above were no better off. Eddie slid helplessly across the roof—
His back scraped over another ventilator, the squat metal cone ripping through his leather jacket – and snagging on it. He jerked to a stop, both legs flailing over the side of the train.
Walther was forced to release the gun to hold the vent with both hands. It banged back into the gutter. He swore, then saw Eddie’s plight and dropped flat, gripping the roof’s edge to pull himself closer to the Yorkshireman as the train continued its squealing turn. ‘Pig!’ the huge Nazi spat. ‘You have spilled our water – so now I will spill your blood!’