The Hunters

63

Cobb recklessly stuck his head out and stared up, as a wave of dirt and rock swung overhead on either side of the train. Those BB-shots of dirt that he’d wished on the Black Robes hit his own scalp and exposed neck as he turned to watch the mass of debris crest over the flatbed and come crashing down between the tracks and the oncoming Black Robes.

The motorcycles veered off, swerving to avoid being buried, swept, or knocked away. Cobb was sorry there hadn’t been time to warn his own people. The horsemen reined their horses hard and scattered in all directions, and the villagers fell wherever they were.

When Cobb ducked back in, Dobrev had not budged nor had the train deviated. It continued to groan slowly toward the billowing dust cloud where Sarah had once stood.

‘Sarah? You copy?’ Cobb asked.

There was only silence.

‘Look!‘ Dobrev said in Russian.

Cobb knew exactly what he meant. Incredibly, where once there was a cave, there was now an open gap through the hillside — with only powdered residue of the wall coating the tracks.

Jasmine arrived in the engine. Her face was covered with dust.

‘You were watching too?’ Cobb said.

‘Wouldn’t have missed it for anything,’ she replied.

‘How many villagers we got on the ground?’

‘About twenty,’ she said.

‘Garcia?’

‘Yo!’

‘Get them into the freight car. The armored walls will protect them better than the other cars. McNutt?’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Nobody’s gettin’ near them,’ he promised as the crack-crack- crack of the Val rang out.

The train slowed just outside the mouth of the tunnel. As it did, Dobrev turned and shouted something to Jasmine, who quickly relayed the information to Cobb.

‘We have to stop,’ she reported as Dobrev grabbed a heavy iron mallet from the locker.

‘Why? What’s he doing?’ Cobb demanded.

‘He said the cowcatcher has to come off now,’ she told him.

‘Crap. I’m going with him,’ Cobb said as Dobrev hopped from the cab.

Cobb told McNutt what he was doing. He told him to concentrate on not letting anyone get to the front. And most importantly, he told him to keep an eye out for Sarah.

There was a crack and a whirring skid of tires. ‘Copy that,’ McNutt said as a Black Robe went tumbling through the dirt.

Dobrev began swinging in hard, strong arcs at the old bolts that held the iron cowcatcher to the front of Ludmilla while Cobb drew his handgun and protected the train. Not a single Black Robe made it past the combination wall-of-gunfire and sniper-shots McNutt was unleashing. It seemed to Cobb like the man had at least three hands. Occasionally, as he paced the rocky terrain, Cobb looked around to see if he could spot Sarah.

‘Give me a hand,’ Dobrev groaned, in Russian.

Cobb didn’t need a translator. He knew what that meant. As Dobrev handed the mallet back to Jasmine in the cabin, Cobb put his shoulder to the side of the heavy iron grate. Dobrev joined him, and together they pushed it toward the side of the tracks that sloped outward. It tumbled over with a dull clank, then skidded to a rest in a gully.

The men boarded quickly, and Cobb turned back to the other pressing matter.

‘Sarah,’ he called urgently. ‘Where are you? I do not have a visual!’

Jasmine looked at Cobb with concern, but all thought of Sarah left her when she glanced back at Dobrev.

‘Oh Jesus,’ she whispered.

Cobb followed her glance. Dobrev looked ashen — his facial muscles tight, his forehead showing a telltale sheen of cold sweat.

Jasmine touched his cheek. He shrugged her off.

‘I’m all right,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Only I can do this. I must do this.’

‘No, tell me how-’

‘Nyet!‘ he barked, and that was that.

Jasmine choked up as she and Cobb looked through the windshield.

‘Don’t think about it,’ Cobb told her. ‘Let him be.’

‘But he’s … he needs to rest.’

‘You make him stop now, that will kill him,’ Cobb said.

Dobrev was talking. ‘This is the most important moment,’ he said as if the words had to be forced out between his teeth. ‘To couple the trains, I must push with the exact amount of pressure or the wheels will leave the rails …’

The engine covered the distance between the tunnel mouth and the prince’s train in seconds. They were about thirty feet inside. Then the grated nose of the 2TE116 pressed against the coupling joint of the treasure train’s engine. Everyone on board was jolted, but it was not enough to throw off McNutt’s aim. He shot another Black Robe, who had been struggling to pull his motorcycle out of a mound of debris that the train had thrown to one side. Before the sidecar man could get to the Browning automatic rifle that he had stolen from the armory, a horseman planted a Nagant rifle round in his chest.

‘Come on, Ludmilla,’ Dobrev gasped. ‘You can do it, girl …’ He put the big train into reverse.

Cobb steadied himself as the clawing fingers of the tunnel began to crack and shatter from around the royal roofs and side walls. With a pop that sounded like a massive water balloon, the eight blue and gold cars jerked forward, pulled by Ludmilla. The stubborn, clinging walls of the tunnel began to break and pebbles of granite were raining down around them.

Cobb hazarded a look back out the window as he heard other cycles racing toward the entrance to the tunnel. But every time one tried to reach the forward cars, either McNutt, a Russian police officer, or a horseman would gun them down.

‘McNutt,’ he said, pulling his head in, ‘status?’

‘Holding them off,’ McNutt grunted. ‘But not for long. I’m running out of ammo and the horsemen’s weapons take too long between shots.’ The Nagant’s bolt needed to be pulled back and shoved forward for each round. The guns the Black Robes had taken from their armory did not. ‘And I’m worried about that grenade launcher.’

‘Don’t,’ Cobb suggested. ‘They want this train. They won’t risk blowing it up.’

As they spoke, the train reversed out of the tunnel.

‘Sarah,’ Cobb said. ‘Elvis is leaving the building. Care to join us?’

Still no answer.

‘Damn it,’ Cobb spat.

Suddenly light flooded into the cab as they emerged from the tunnel. Cobb could see Jasmine hovering protectively over Dobrev, who was leaning forward with one hand on the control, one palm pressed against the front of the cabin. He was breathing heavily, his clothes soaked with perspiration.

But the train was moving and picking up speed.

As it did, the Black Robes were beginning to regroup.

‘Garcia, make sure everyone stays down,’ Cobb said.

As if on cue, bullets began to splatter on the outside engine walls.

‘Down!’ Cobb ordered, as he and Jasmine went to one knee. Both looked as Dobrev remained rigidly standing.

‘Andrei!’ yelled Jasmine in Russian. ‘Get down!’