“He’ll derail us. We must stop!” Xenia showed some panic in her usually calm and cool manner.
“No!” from Trevelyan.
“What do we do?” The question came from up front in the train’s cabin, and it was obvious that the driver and his engineer were already slowing slightly. The brakes had started to pump.
“Stop that.” Trevelyan had snatched at a small microphone attached to the wall. “Go for him. Full speed. Ram him.”
“But…” came the driver’s voice.
“Ram him, damn you. You have that damned great battering ram up front. Now’s the time to use it The words and confidence were easy, but the situation had certain very dangerous drawbacks. Trevelyan was experienced enough to know what was going on. He too was a gambler.
Whatever happened now, he thought, the train would be wrecked. Well, that was OK for he would have no difficulty finding an alternative method of transport. It was an irritation, a minor setback, but they would still get to their destination.
He looked up at the monitor and braced himself in his seat.
Opposite him, Xenia was also straining backwards in her seat, the Uzi held across her lap and her legs straight. Above them the monitor showed that they were rushing towards the tank at high speed. About six hundred yards to go and closing very fast
At around two hundred yards Trevelyan began to feel the first nip of fear in the back of his mind. Then there was a flash, followed by a great heaving as though the carriage were being shaken by an earthquake.
Bond had banged down on the firing button. The turret bucked under the recoil and the shell penetrated the front of the engine, exploding with a great sheet of flame which seemed to reach out as though trying to devour the tank.
He pulled himself up through the hatch, leaped to the left and rolled away towards the bank, almost at the moment the train’s engine hit the tank, the long telescopic buffer buckling under the impact.
Bond dug himself into the earth as the forward momentum of the engine pushed the tank, now on fire, back into the tunnel.
Then came the second explosion: a thunderous clap of noise and a searing heat which even Bond felt, lying on the ground a good distance away. He raised his head and saw the wide plume of flame and smoke coming from inside the tunnel, the mixture of fuel and explosives rising into the air, as though drawing a deadly question mark.
By the time that happened, Bond was on his feet, the machine pistol in his hand, running full tilt towards the carriages, looking for the easiest way in.
He saw the steps at the door linking the last and middle carriages and threw himself towards them, his hand touching hot metal, his heart set on finishing the business with Trevelyan once and for all.
In the Communications Carriage, both Xenia and Trevelyan had been thrown to the ground; equipment had detached itself from walls and desk tops. Xenia’s Uzi had skittered back along the aisle and, worst of all, they were plunged into darkness.
“Emergency generator!” Trevelyan shouted, and Xenia stumbled forward, feeling her way to the large wall switch which would give them power now that the engine had exploded taking with it their normal source of electricity.
She pulled down on the switch and, as the lights came back on “Just stay absolutely still.” The voice came from behind them.
Trevelyan, half sprawled across a table, did not even bother to look around. “James, why can’t you just die like any other normal person?’ he asked.
Steel-Plated Coffin Alec Trevelyan’s almost casual manner was meant to either anger Bond, or put him off guard. It did neither.
He remembered the many tricks Trevelyan always had up his sleeve back in the old days, when they were cold warriors together. Bond particularly recalled a seminar~ at which Trevelyan spoke of the need for the man in the field never to show any true emotion, and always to appear utterly uncaring about anything if caught out.
Much had obviously happened to Alec in the years between, but he had almost certainly never lost his old way of working. If he appeared relaxed after what had happened in the last few minutes, then he obviously had some surprises in store, so it was necessary to treat him with considerable care.
Both Trevelyan and Xenia stood with their backs towards Bond and a little too close to various switches and buttons that probably meant they could shut off the light, or open doors to go into the carriage forward of the middle one in which they stood.
The train’s engine had uncoupled itself from the three cars as it plunged into the tunnel, and he was uncertain whether Natalya was being held in the carriage forward of where his prisoners stood, or the one behind. He also needed a new weapon and, as the two prisoners remained facing away from him, Bond’s eyes flicked to and fro, finally alighting on a small hand gun - a Beretta, he thought - lying on one of the computer tables which had not suffered damage in the collision and blast
He stepped to one side, picked it up and cocked the mechanism.
The weight of the gun told him it had a full magazine, so working the slide ensured a round was chambered.
“Turn around, with your hands on your head,’ he ordered. “Both of you. Now!” As they obeyed, he saw Xenia’s eyes move towards her Uzi which lay on the floor about three feet away from her.
Kick that towards me, please, Xenia. We don’t want any accidents.
Now, both of you stand well clear of that door.” The Uzi slid towards him, and while his pistol did not waver, Bond caught the machine gun with the side of his foot, sending it under the seats to his right.
Trevelyan gave a mocking laugh. “James, you’ve always been lucky.
But by the same token you’ve always been foolhardy. You perform well under pressure but you never think ahead. You haven’t a chance here.
You have no backup and no escape route. You’re stuck here with us as your hostages. A poet once wrote, “The glass is falling hour by hour Bond continued the quote, ““The glass will fall for ever.
But if you break the bloody glass, you won’t hold up the weather.”
Yes, I know, Alec, and I’m quite aware that you probably have some earth-shattering plan already running..
“Earth-shattering is good. Very good, James. And, no!
No, you cannot stop it now. Unless you can find the source and remove that bad boy Boris within a couple of days, you’re done for, old son. Buggered and bitched. I am the only person who might possibly change the circumstances, but that’s pretty unlikely now. And I hold the trump card here. I hold the bargaining chip, so to speak.”
“Oh?”
“I have the beautiful Natalya.
“So?”
“What do you mean, James, so?”
“Why should Natalya be a bargaining chip?”
“Come on, James. I know you very well.”
“You do?
Where is she, then? Where is she if she’s such an asset?”
“I can get her for you, only you’ll have to let me use the microphone.” His head gestured to where the mike was hanging, attached to a wall mounting.
“I just need your permission to..
“Don’t do anything stupid, Alec. I really don’t want to kill you.
I want to take you home.”
“Oh, yes. Home. By which I presume you mean England, home and beauty?”
“No, I mean England, home and justice.’ Trevelyan gestured towards the microphone once more and Bond nodded, not moving his eyes, but keeping the pistol halfway between Trevelyan and Xenia.
“Ourumov! Bring her in here.” Trevelyan spoke into the mike and then returned it to the wall bracket. “A lovely girl. Tastes like Well, I think she tastes like strawberries. You always had a yen for strawberry-flavoured girls,
