The Hunt For Atlantis

SEVEN

The soldier’s hands clamped around Chase’s throat, squeezing tight and forcing him farther over the edge of the footplate.

Chase fought for breath as the other man’s thumbs dug into his windpipe. It took all his strength just to hold on to the handrail, pain burning through his other arm as it hung stiffly beneath him.

And in the corner of his eye he could see the headlights of the oncoming train growing brighter.

The Iranian loomed closer, his lips pulled back into a snarl. “Die, you American bastard!”

“American?” Chase choked out. A resurgent energy pumped through his body, and his free hand shot up, smashing into the Iranian’s face like a hammer. Blood squirted from the man’s mashed nose as cartilage crackled under the blow. The pressure around his neck vanished immediately as the soldier jerked back, gasping in pain.

He drove one knee into the soldier’s stomach. The man groaned and rolled off him, and Chase hauled himself upright. “I’m British, you twat!”

A horn blared.

Through the windscreen, he saw the other locomotive barreling towards them, sparks spewing from its wheels as the driver slammed on the brakes. It was towing a long train of white tanker trucks, full of fuel or chemicals.

The driver of the oncoming train flung himself from the cab. It rushed at Chase like a cannon shell, lights blazing.

Nina’s train was almost alongside him. The rear car wasn’t quite level, but he was out of time-

The soldier sat up-and screamed.

Chase jumped to the other track, and just caught the guardrail on the back of the open platform. All he could do was cling to the weathered metal with his finger tips as-

The locomotives collided.

Chase’s engine plowed through the other, forced upwards by the impact. The bodywork of the oncoming locomotive shattered in a blizzard of metal.

Then the chassis hit the unyielding metal block of the second loco’s huge diesel engine. Chase’s locomotive weighed almost a hundred tons, but against the momentum of a train weighing several thousand tons moving at almost fifty miles an hour, it was like running into an iron wall.

The locomotive flipped, its back end flying up from the tracks. For one instant, it was airborne, inverted-then it crashed down on to the other loco. Both engines disintegrated under the impact. Hundreds of gallons of diesel spewed free, igniting.

The first tanker truck, filled with highly flammable fuel oil, derailed and impaled itself on mangled metal, its contents gushing out…

“Your time is up,” said Mahjad. He leaned towards Nina, his malevolent smile deepening as he reached for her leg. Repulsed, she tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. “So, what is your-”

Another train rushed past on the other line. Mahjad glanced at it, then looked back at Nina. He opened his mouth to speak-

An explosion shook the carriage.

In his SAS career Chase had been on the ground uncomfortably close to the targets of NATO precision air strikes-but the earthshaking blast of a thousand-pound laser-guided bomb was a mere firework compared to the colossal explosion as the first tanker blew up. The train to which he was now desperately clinging was whisking him away from it at over fifty miles per hour, but the detonation was still deafening, and the heat as the expanding fireball chased after him was enough to singe the hairs on the backs of his hands.

There was another noise, a horrific groaning as the other tankers piled into each other just a few feet from his side. They were derailing, the concertina effect of the collision wrenching them from the track.

Another explosion! The second tanker in the train went up like the first, followed a moment later by the third.

Shit!

The entire tanker train was going to blow in a chain reaction-and the explosions were rippling down the line faster than his train was moving!

If Chase didn’t find cover inside in the next ten seconds, he would be completely vaporized.

Arms straining, tendons tight as steel cables, he pulled himself up with a yell that was completely drowned out by the ear-splitting booms of more tankers exploding. Forget singed hairs, he could feel his skin stinging as he rolled over the top of the railing and thumped onto the wooden platform. He jumped up and tugged at the handle of the door.

Locked!

The chain of explosions raced towards him, a burning wind sweeping ahead of the expanding fireballs. Chase flattened himself against the door, nowhere to go-

Suddenly he fell, landing on his stomach inside the carriage and staring straight up at the soldier who had just opened the door.

Chase rolled away from him. Caught by surprise, the soldier gawped stupidly-then looked up to see a wall of liquid fire rushing towards the back of the train.

He didn’t even have time to scream as the blaze from the last tanker burst through the door, a rectangular jet of flame fanning out and swirling around the interior. Completely engulfed in fire, the soldier let out a terrible shriek of pure agony before stumbling towards Chase, arms flailing.

Chase rolled again as the inferno roiled over him, just in time to dodge the burning fuel showering from the soldier. He jumped to his feet, ignoring the Iranian as he collapsed, writhing pitifully. Now that he was on the train, he had a job to do.

Mahjad was stunned by the first explosion, then positively terrified as the following string of detonations got louder and closer. Nina was forgotten as he jumped up and threw the compartment door open, bellowing orders down the corridor.

She had no idea what was going on, but it sounded almost as if the train was being bombed!

Could it be Chase somehow coming after her? She couldn’t imagine how, but whatever was going on had Mahjad scared.

Maybe this would give her a chance to escape.

Castille and Hafez exchanged another look as one of their startled guards opened the door, Mahjad’s screaming commands reaching them from the other end of the car. This time the look was a signal, a confirmation that both were on the same wavelength.

Get ready!

Chase opened a heavy sliding door and found himself in the corridor of an old-style compartment car, a real Hogwarts Express job. To his relief, the compartments that he passed were empty. If they’d been full of soldiers, he