Juggernaut

Jabril shot from deep within the cavern. Voss returned fire. Gunshots echoed through the tunnel. Bullet strikes punched deep into the brittle limestone roof, bringing down dust and rock chunks. A ricochet smacked the tunnel prop, showering Lucy with splinters. She gnawed the tuff-tie binding her wrist, tried to bite through the plastic.

Voss sprayed random fire. He and Gaunt ran for the locomotive.

Lucy waited until the sound of their footfalls diminished to silence.

‘Jabril,’ she shouted. ‘Over here.’

Lucy craned to look at Amanda’s wounded leg. Camo fabric and desert boot wet with blood.

‘How you doing?’ she asked.

‘Not so great,’ said Amanda. Her face was chalk white.

‘It’s not an arterial bleed, but we’ve got to patch that hole.’

Distant engine splutter from the locomotive. Tunnel echo. The diesel engine turning over, trying to engage.

‘There goes our ride.’

The locomotive cab. Gaunt held out his hands.

‘Come on. Cut me the fuck loose.’

‘Just drive the damn train.’

Gaunt studied dials. He tapped a gauge.

‘The fuel tank is nearly dry.’

‘Then what’s the fucking point?’

‘I talked it over with Koell. This train was my way out of the valley if the choppers went down. He said there was a fuel truck, out there in the convoy. Locomotive-grade diesel.’

‘It probably got blown to shit. Nothing but scrap iron.’

‘I saw a couple of intact trucks among the wrecks. We have to check. We have to know for sure. Come on. Don’t pussy out on me now. Koell might be ready to pull the plug on this operation, but he can still tap a massive black budget. You want twenty, thirty million in unmarked bills? He wouldn’t give a shit. Wouldn’t catch his breath. He’s been chasing this virus for a decade. Probably dreams about it each night. If we show up in Baghdad with the virus, he’ll cut a deal, no question. We’ll show him a phone picture, whet his appetite. Make the exchange in the underground garage at the Al-Rasheed. Think about it. A holdall full of cash. Seat on a military flight back to Vandenberg. Like that idea? Couple of days from now, we could be in California. Palm trees. Beaches. Girls. More money than you can spend. We just have to keep our balls and get through the next few hours. Find the truck and pump some gas.’

The tunnel lights flickered.

‘The generator,’ said Gaunt. ‘Must be running out of gas.’

‘Get us rolling.’

‘Come on, man. Cut me loose.’

Voss flipped open his lock-knife, sliced the cuffs and pushed Gaunt towards the breaker panel.

‘Get to work.’

Gaunt opened the panel. A red switch. ENGINE PRIME.

Fuel pumps engaged.

Injectors loaded.

Batteries to START. A thud. A second thud. The great engine cylinders fired and warmed up. A rumble to a roar.

‘Yeah, baby,’ shouted Gaunt. The overhead cabin light burned bright. The console lit up.

A black fog of diesel fumes started to fill the cab.

‘Close the fucking door.’

Gaunt sat at the driver’s console. He released the automatic brake. He pushed the throttle from Idle to Run. Amp needles twitched and rose. He released the second, independent brake. He pushed the throttle forward. Shriek of seized metal starting to shift and turn. The locomotive jerked. Black fumes belched from side exhausts. Carriages slammed and began to roll.

Voss reached across the control desk and flicked HEADLAMP. A fierce cone of light stabbed from the nose of the locomotive, illuminating the tunnel mouth, the beams and planks lying across the track.

‘Hold on.’

The locomotive bulldozed through the barrier. Splintered planks. Tumbling oil drums.

The engine rolled from the tunnel into daylight. A corroded behemoth. A two-hundred-and-fifty-ton dust-streaked juggernaut.

A soldier standing on the track. Mown down, broken by the plough and crushed to pulp beneath steel wheels.

The locomotive wound its way through the tight canyon, saurian diesel roar amplified by the high walls of the ravine.

‘You have to retrieve the virus,’ said Jabril. He flicked open his pocket knife. He cut Lucy and Amanda’s wrist ties. ‘That’s your responsibility. Your lives are a secondary consideration. You understand, yes? It must be destroyed at all costs.’

‘What about you?’

Jabril shook his head.

‘Too old. Too tired. This is your fight now.’

Lucy checked him out. He looked exhausted. He looked used up.

Amanda tied a bandana round her wounded thigh.

Lucy held the flashlight while Jabril lashed patties of plastic explosive to the roof support with duct tape. He ran twin flex cable. He pressed blasting caps into the putty. He wired the detonators to a white box.

CASTLEKEEP.

‘An automatic garage door mechanism,’ he explained. ‘Our acquisition team had five thousand shipped from China before the war began. We knew we couldn’t defeat the Americans by conventional means. We were prepared for a guerrilla war.’ He held up an infra-red key fob. ‘They are the perfect IED trigger.’

He twisted copper strands, wired the garage door mechanism to a fourteen-volt motorcycle battery.

‘That’s it. Firing circuit complete.’

They ran for the tunnel mouth.