“Good Lord!” Fox moaned. “If that intermodal hits those tankers ---!”
“Surely there’s a manual switch,” Dad said.
“There is,” Fox replied, “but there’s no one to throw it. The closest personnel are ahead at the obstruction on the track. There’s no way we can get them back in time.”
“I can do it!” Dad said. “I can throw the damn switch. I’ve done it a hundred times. Just tell me where it is.”
Fox looked at Rob. “Is there time?”
Rob looked at his screen. “The intermodal is approaching at forty miles an hour. At that speed, it should arrive at the switch in fifteen minutes.”
“How far away is the switch?” I asked.
“You could probably get there in ten minutes if you hurry.”
“Then we’d better get moving!” Dad said.
“You don’t understand,” Fox said. “If you’re anywhere close to that tanker when it’s hit ---!”
“Well, if you’d quit jabbering that won’t happen,” Dad said, indignantly.
“You’ll need a key to unlock the switch,” Fox said.
Moments later, we had the key and directions to the switch.
“Dad, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Hell yes, I know what I’m doing. It’s like riding a bike. Once you do it, you don’t forget.”
As we approached the switch, I saw the cars of the tanker train stalled on the tracks.
I could envision the carnage if that intermodal plowed into the rear of those oil tanks.
We jumped out of the car, and as we approached the switch, I could feel the vibration of the oncoming train.
“Hurry!” Dad said. “Unlock the damn thing.”
I fumbled with the key, finally inserting it into the old padlock.
When the lock finally popped open, the intermodal was barely a football field away.
Dad took hold of the switch handle. “Here! Help me with this!”
We pulled, and the old handle barely moved. By this time, the train was at the fifty-yard line.
“Give it all you’ve got, Son!”
We heaved together, and with a ‘clunk,’ the track switched.
I grabbed Dad and together we jumped aside as the train roared by.
We landed hard in the gravel. I hoped Dad wasn’t hurt.
I needn’t have worried. When I saw the smile on his face, I knew he was having the time of his life.
CHAPTER 7
When we returned to the Terminal Railway office, we found a distraught David Fox.
“Thank you so much!” he said, grabbing our hands. “You averted a disaster of monumental proportions.”
“Piece of cake,” Dad said, evidently forgetting we had activated the switch by the skin of our teeth.
“Any idea what happened to your equipment?” I asked.
“Our IT team is looking into it. It’s beginning to look like someone hacked into our system. I’ll know more after they perform their diagnostics. We will have to suspend PTC coverage until this is resolved.”
I saw the look of concern on his face.
“Based on their initial tests, it’s beginning to look like an act of terrorism. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a call to Homeland Security. I’ll have someone show you out, and thanks again. That’s twice you’ve come to our rescue.”
On the way home, Dad nearly drove me nuts.
John Henry was a steel-drivin’ man, Lawd, Lawd!
John Henry was a steel drivin’ man!
Two days later, there was a knock on my door. It was my half-brother, Mark Davenport.
“Hello, Walt. May I come in?”
Dad was an over-the-road trucker with a wandering eye. Like the proverbial sailor, he had a girl in every port.
Mark was the product of a relationship Dad had with a waitress in Western Kansas. Neither of us knew he existed until a few years ago. A case I was working on brought him into our lives.
At that point in time, he was with the FBI, but later transferred to Homeland Security.
When David Fox said he was calling the agency, it didn’t occur to me until now, that Mark might be the agent to respond.
“Sure, Mark. Come on in.”
After we were seated, he shook his head. “I continue to be amazed at how you wind up in the middle of these bizarre cases. David Fox told me how you and Dad averted the largest oil spill since the Exxon Valdez. What in the world were you doing at the Kansas City Terminal Railway offices anyway?”
I told him about Kevin and I collaring the copper thieves, our tour of the facilities, and Dad begging to do the same.
“We just happened to be there when this all went down. Believe me, I certainly didn’t plan it. We came very close to being squished by that train. Have they figured out what happened?”
“I have no doubt this was an act of terrorism,” Mark replied, “and a very sophisticated one at that.
“It was a well-coordinated attack. First, they dragged a rusted-out car frame onto the tracks to stop the tanker train. It was far enough away that the maintenance crew that had been sent to deal with it couldn’t get back in time to throw the switch.
“Then, a very skillful hacker took control of not only the PTC on the train, but the dispatcher’s computer terminal as well. Whoever was responsible was very good indeed. He left no footprint whatsoever. We came very close to an environmental disaster.”
“But who? Why?”
“That’s the question. It could have been the work of any one of a dozen countries, Russia, China, Iran. Hell, it could have been one of the extremist groups right here in the U.S.A.
“Hackers are among the biggest threats to our country. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING in America runs on computers. The electrical grid, banks, the railroad, as you saw the other day, they all are controlled by computers. It’s a constant battle setting up firewalls to keep the hackers out. The average citizen just doesn’t understand how vulnerable we are.”
“So how can I help?”
“You can’t, Walt. This is just one brother talking to another.”
“I certainly don’t envy you your job.”
“Some days, I wish I didn’t have it.”
Yasir Patel was fuming. “I don’t understand. Everything went exactly as planned. You blocked the track which held up the tanker train and I successfully hacked into the computer systems of both the PTC and the dispatcher. What went wrong?”
“Two old men,” Mostafa replied. “That’s what went wrong. After placing the car frame on the tracks, Ahmad and I went back up the main line to watch the destruction.
“Just as the train was approaching, these two men arrived and threw the switch seconds before the train arrived.”
“Were they Terminal Railway employees?”
“That’s the strange part. I don’t believe they were. After they threw the switch, we followed them back to the Railway office. They were only there a few minutes. When they left, we followed them to an apartment building on Armour Boulevard. As they went inside, we got a closer look. The older of the two looked to be in his nineties and the younger one in his seventies.”
“Damn!” Patel said, smacking the table with his fist. “Our beautiful plan ruined by two old fools. The Ayatollah will not be pleased.”
“What now?” Mostafa asked.
“I am awaiting further orders,” Patel replied. “One thing is for sure --- we are not through with the Americans’ railroads.”
CHAPTER 8
A few days later, I received a call from Captain Short, my commanding officer from my days on the force.
“Walt, if you and your partner are not too busy, I have a gig for you.”
“Hang on a minute, Captain. I’ll check my calendar. Just kidding. What can we do for you?”
“Remember a year or so ago when you and Kevin manned the metal detector at the mayor’s re-election fund raiser?”
“You mean the one where Senator Benjamin was whacked b
y the Black Widow? Yeah, I remember it.”
“We have a similar assignment if you and Kevin are interested.”
“Go on.”
“It’s at Union Station. If you’ve been paying attention to the news, you must have seen the story about the proposed Hyperloop between Kansas City and St. Louis.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“This is going to be a media event to drum up support for the Hyperloop. Lots of brass attending. The CEO of Virgin Hyperloop, the KC Tech Council, and the Governor are all going to be there. Naturally, with all the big wigs, we’ll have to beef up security.”
“And it’s a lot cheaper to hire a couple of grunts to man the metal detector than assign regular officers.”
“Something like that. No offense.”
“None taken. We’re in.”
I gave Kevin a call. “New gig. Come on over.”
While Kevin was on the road, I Googled the upcoming event at Union Station.
The company claimed that their passenger cabins, or “pods,” could take people from Kansas City to St. Louis in under 30 minutes, at speeds reaching 600 miles per hour. The event was a publicity stunt to demonstrate how much time could be saved with the loop.
A non-stop trip by car, not counting bathroom breaks or gas stops, takes roughly four hours. By train, it takes five hours and forty minutes. The rally at Union Station was to be duplicated by a similar rally in St. Louis after the nearly six-hour ride.
There were photos of the proposed Hyperloop.
When Kevin arrived, I told him what I had learned.
He shook his head. “Do you really think people will pay to be strapped into a tube and hurdled across country at 600 miles an hour?”
“Beats me. Apparently a lot of influential people think so. They’re willing to spend somewhere between seven and ten billion dollars on the thing. They have a whole list of benefits. They say it could create 7,600 to 17,200 jobs and deliver an estimated economic impact of $1.67 billion to $3.68 billion annually.”
“And it will only cost $40 million a mile!”
Evidently Kevin had done some mental math.
“With that kind of budget,” Kevin said, smiling, “may I assume that we’re going to be paid handsomely for our services?”
“Yeah, right!”
Mostafa, Ahmad, and Yasir were huddled around the computer.
“This is their Union Station,” Yasir said, pointing to the screen.
“In two days, there will be a rally there to promote the Hyperloop transportation system. Many important dignitaries will be present, including the governor of Missouri. After the rally, they will board the Amtrak to St. Louis. You will see to it that they do not make it out of the station.
“I have prepared a bomb. Your task will be to plant it on the train.”
“I don’t understand,” Ahmad said. “One small train and a few dignitaries. It hardly seems worth our time. Surely there are more important targets for us to pursue.”
“In good time, my friend,” Yasir replied. “This strike is about undermining the confidence of the Americans. In our countries, we live in fear, never knowing when our enemies will strike. The Americans have no such fear. They move about freely, never worrying about their safety. Strikes such as this will deliver the message that they are no longer safe in their own country.”
I met Dad in the hall as I was heading out to get the morning paper.
“Guess what I just read in the Santa Fe chat room.”
“I have no idea.”
“There’s going to be a rally at Union Station tomorrow night. Bernice and I are going.”
“That rally is to promote the Hyperloop. I had no idea you were interested.”
“I don’t give a damn about that screwy Hyperloop thing. I’ll be dead and buried long before that’s built. We’re going to see the Missouri River Runner!”
“What in the world is that?”
“That’s the Amtrak train that runs between Kansas City and St. Louis. She’s a beauty!”
“Great! Just a word of caution. Bernice can’t wear the little .32 she straps on her ankle.”
“The heck you say! How would they know? She keeps it well hid.”
“We would know because Kevin and I are manning the metal detector. Nobody, especially Bernice, gets in packin’ heat.”
He sighed. “I’ll tell her, but she won’t like it.”
I could tell our latest gig was going to be loads of fun.
If looks could kill, Kevin and I would both be dead.
People tend to get indignant when their hip flasks and underwire bras set off the metal detector, and women are prone to take offense when their boobies are wanded.
Nevertheless, it was our job to make sure that those push-ups were packing perky and not heat.
The Grand Hall was packed to capacity with people eager to learn about the futuristic mode of travel that would propel them across the state at 600 miles per hour.
Twenty minutes before the festivities were to begin, Dad and Bernice arrived.
Dad was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning, but Bernice appeared out of sorts.
“Something wrong, Bernice?” I asked as she passed through the metal detector.
“Hell yes, there’s something wrong! John wouldn’t let me bring my .32. I feel naked without it.”
“Sorry about that,” I replied, “but rules are rules. Look on the bright side. No one else is armed either.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose. Evidently the Second Amendment doesn’t mean a thing in here!”
She grabbed Dad by the arm and stalked off.
Kevin rolled his eyes. “Are we having fun yet?”
“Come on,” John said, pointing to the sign.
“Where are we going?” Bernice asked.
“To see the Missouri River Runner of course.”
He saw the confused look on her face. “The Amtrak train!”
“Oh, yeah, that.”
They stepped inside the Amtrak waiting area. There were a few people waiting to board, their heads buried in books and magazines.
There was one employee at the ticket window, but he was engrossed in watching the ceremony in the Grand Hall on a closed-circuit TV screen.
“This way,” John whispered, pointing to the gate to the boarding area, “and be quiet!”
They strolled casually to the gate, took a quick peek to make sure the ticket guy wasn’t watching, then slipped through and down the steps to the loading dock.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” John said, almost drooling at the sight of the massive engine.
“Yeah, I guess,” Bernice replied, obviously not impressed.
Then she tugged on John’s sleeve. “Those guys over there. Are they conductors or something?”
John looked where she was pointing and saw two men crossing the tracks from the opposite direction carrying a box.
From the way they were dressed and by the way they were sneaking around, John knew right away that they weren’t railroad employees.
“You there!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”
The two men stopped abruptly. “We’re --- uhhh--- with the catering company. Just delivering a box of snacks for the dignitaries.”
At that moment, they heard a voice from the stairway. “Excuse me! We aren’t boarding yet. You can’t be down here.”
It was the ticket master.
“Okay,” John replied. “Sorry.”
They climbed the stairs back to the waiting area.
“You can wait here to board,” the ticket master said. “There’s snacks and drinks in the vending machines.”
John thanked the man, then grabbed Bernice by the arm. “Something doesn’t smell right. We need to find Walt.”
The CEO of Virgin Hyperloop had just finished his presentation and the governor was taking the stage when Dad and Bernice rushed up.
“Walt!” Dad wheezed, obviously out of breath, “I think there’s something hokey going on.”
“Hokey? What are you talking about?”
“Bernice and I were on the loading platform when ---.”
“What were you doing on the loading platform?”
“Walt! That’s not the point! We were there. Okay? Anyway, before the ticket master shooed us away, we saw two guys approach the train from the far side of the tracks. They were carrying a box. I asked what they were doing and they said they were from the catering company bringing a box of snacks.”
“What’s so odd about that?”
“Son, didn’t you hear me? They weren’t coming down the dock. They came from across the tracks.”
“And not only that,” Bernice added, “they were foreigners. Real suspicious looking.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“You were the cop!” Dad replied, indignantly. “Seems to me you’d want to check things out before all those tight-asses climb on board the train.”
Kevin had been listening to the exchange. “What do you think?” I asked.
He thought for a moment. “Well, if he’s wrong, we’re going to look pretty stupid.”
“Maybe so,” Dad said, “but what if I’m right?”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll tell the captain. It will be his decision what happens after that.”
I found the captain at the entrance to the Amtrak ticket room and told him what Dad had seen.
“Jesus, Walt!” the captain said, shaking his head. “Surely you don’t expect me to hold things up based on what an old guy in his nineties may or may not have seen.”
“I’m just telling you what Dad said he saw. What you do with it is up to you.”
His shoulders slumped. “Thanks a lot. What do you think? Is your old man reliable?”
“Well, the other day, he prevented a hijacked train from colliding with tankers filled with oil.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.”
[Lady Justice 41] - Lady Justice and Terror on the Tracks Page 4
