‘Sarah, get them off the train!’ Cobb shouted.
The words snapped Sarah from her momentary daze. Cobb stared at her, waiting for an acknowledgement. Once she nodded, he started racing back through the cars.
Cobb was in the armory and rushing up to McNutt before the gunman even knew he was there. Cobb spoke the language he knew McNutt would hear, would understand: he picked up an M1 that was lying beside him as a weapon of last resort, brought it to his shoulder, and fired a round at an ATV. It was barely within range but, expertly leading the target, he managed to nick its left front tire. The vehicle lurched and threw its rider.
McNutt jerked around. ‘Nice!’
‘You keep firing, soldier!’ Cobb barked. ‘Do not take your eye from the target!’
McNutt grinned as he put his eye to his sniper rifle’s scope. A moment later he eliminated the driver of yet another ATV who was trying to swing around to the northern side of the train.
‘We can take them, Jack,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘They keep rolling into range, we can take them all out.’
Cobb knelt and spoke quietly but directly into McNutt’s ear. ‘Priorities, McNutt, priorities. You should know by now that I have a bigger map up here.’
Cobb touched his own head for emphasis.
‘I’m a marksman,’ McNutt replied. ‘I only see what’s in front of me.’
‘That’s why I’m the boss,’ Cobb said. ‘Thing is, if you die here, you’re taking me with you. End of mission. Waste of both of us.’
McNutt fired again, then threw the bolt of the rifle back and forth. The hot shell of the cartridge flew back and hit Cobb’s cheek. McNutt heard the sizzle of it burning his skin, but Cobb didn’t react.
McNutt fired again, then immediately threw the rifle down, slammed the slot closed, swung a Steyr Aug assault rifle onto his back, and grabbed a duffel bag full of high-caliber goodies.
‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ he teased. ‘Let’s go!’
51
Anna Rusinko was as tense as the rest of the villagers as she monitored the action from afar, although she couldn’t be sure it was for the same reason.
They had all stood motionless — save for an occasional flinch after a volley of gunfire — as they watched the battle from the cover of the northern tree line. Anna felt both solace and concern when she saw Borovsky hop from the train cab onto the back of a horse ridden by village elder Alexandru Decebal — the latest in a long line of Decebals who led the militia of the village honor guard.
Alexandru meant ‘defender of mankind’ in Romanian, and Decebal meant ‘strong as ten’. Anna was relieved to see that he more than lived up to his name, especially as the Black Robes tightened the circle around the mounted men for every meter the honor guard retreated.
Anna shifted her gaze to the train, which was still creeping up the hill toward them at a snail’s pace. She looked from the train to the riders to the villagers, her eyes settling on a pocket of young girls. Images of her daughter flashed through her mind.
Anna was sure that Borovsky would have a Russian proverb to match that sentiment, but she could think of none. For her, only one thing came to her mind. She directed her question to one of the Romanian elders, using hand gestures to make her point.
‘Where are your pitchforks?’
The man, who had been conversing urgently with a small group of older men and women, was pointing left, then right. He turned and shook his head.
‘No,’ he said, then he started off with the others.
Frustrated and confused, Anna followed.
Before leaving the train, Cobb thought Garcia and McNutt would give him the most trouble, with Dobrev a close third. Now that he had McNutt under control, he was pleased to see that Garcia was downright eager to leave the train.
Jasmine had followed Borovsky out of the cabin, and Sarah had gone next to take the hand-off of Garcia’s gear. His rider had just pulled alongside the crawling train when Cobb and McNutt entered the cabin.
‘Protect your jewels,’ Cobb advised.
‘How?’ Garcia asked, genuinely concerned.
McNutt stared at him. ‘If you have to ask, you don’t deserve to have nuts.’
Cobb rolled his eyes. ‘Hector, just go! Now!’
Garcia flung himself forward like he was jumping into a pool. He planted his hands on the rider’s broad shoulders, threw open his legs, and landed perfectly on the back of the horse as if he had been doing it all his life. At least until his computer-filled shoulder bag nearly pulled him over the back of the horse’s bobbing rump. Taking Sarah’s earlier advice, he quickly wrapped his arms around the rider’s waist in a bear hug.
McNutt watched in awe as the double-mounted riders galloped out of the way of the single riders. It took a while, but eventually his steed arrived next to the train. McNutt carried the heaviest load by far, and Borovsky had reserved the biggest, hardiest horse for him. McNutt made a perfect jump, but there was still a moment when everyone worried that the horse, the riders, and the duffel bag would all topple down the slight incline that led to the trackbed.
But the horse and his rider proved deserving of Borovsky’s faith. The big, beige Lippizaner with the black ‘freckles’ bent his legs as he absorbed the impact, shifted a step, then returned to full balance. McNutt immediately twisted around so he could call to Jasmine.
‘Tell them, no,
Jasmine relayed McNutt’s request, which was granted.
Before he would relent to Cobb’s insistence, Dobrev took a moment to say goodbye to his old friend, Ludmilla. He knew he had to go, but he wished to God he could stay with her. It was a profound emotional parting, a psychological wrench. Dobrev was saying goodbye to more than just a beloved, vintage engine; he was abandoning an old friend. He laid a weathered hand on the cold iron of the engine’s inner wall — a final ‘thank you’ for all she meant to him.
He did so with tears in his eyes.
Then, without hesitation, Dobrev jumped heavily and nearly slid off the back of his horse. But the rider threw his arms back to prevent it, spreading them like the wings of an eagle and turning his palms out and back to grab Dobrev’s reaching arms.
The old man beamed gratefully.
Cobb saw Sarah gesturing forcefully toward the back of the train. He heard the
‘There are too many!’ she yelled. ‘They’re getting onboard!’
Cobb wasn’t surprised. Even though Dobrev had locked the throttle in place, the incline had increased and the engine was slowing. Cobb’s rider moved into position, and he jumped. He hadn’t even shifted properly on the horse’s croup when Decebal, Borovsky, and Jasmine trotted up beside him. The Russian cop was already speaking.
‘They said we should not make a stand,’ Jasmine translated.
‘What do they recommend?’
Borovsky was already explaining.
‘He says that we should concentrate on getting away,’ Jasmine said.
‘He wants us to run?’ Sarah snarled from the far side of the group.
‘The word he used was “
‘The word I use is
