“Sounds good,” he replied, “but bring some snacks. We might be here for a while.”
About eight o’clock, the blue Chevy took off.
We followed it to a small bungalow on Cypress Street. The guy parked and went inside. I pulled my cell phone and was about to call Mark when there was a tap on the window. I looked up and saw a .45 pointed at my head. It was Yasir Patel.
“Out of the car, both of you.”
He waved his gun. “Inside, now! Thought you were so smart, tailing Ahmed. I thought you might try something like that, so I had Mostafa tailing your guy. A tail, tailing a tail. Pretty smart don’t you think?”
Inside the house, Mostafa frisked us, tied our hands and feet, then bound us to wooden chairs.
Once we were securely bound, Yasir pulled a chair in front of us.
“I’m so glad you could join us. Now we can proceed with our plan without worrying about your interference. In fact, your demise will now be part of our plan.
“I’m going to tell you what we’ll be doing tomorrow. That way, you’ll have all night long to ponder your fate.
“Have you ever wondered what your country does with all the waste from your nuclear power plants? Irradiated fuel is stored in 39 different states before it is transported to a permanent storage facility like the one in Yucca Mountain, Nevada.
“Much of it is transported by rail in specially designed containers called casks. Each rail cask weighs about 145 tons fully loaded and contains 260 times the amount of radioactive cesium released by the Hiroshima atomic bomb. A typical train has a dozen or more of these casks. They are built to withstand heavy blows, but certainly not sturdy enough to escape a head on collision with another train.
“Analysts have estimated that the most severe accident involving irradiated fuel in an urban setting would cost over $36 billion dollars to correct, not counting the massive loss of life.
“That’s exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow, and the two of you are going to have a front row seat. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.”
And with that bit of news, he was gone.
“Well,” Kevin said, “what a revoltin’ development this is.”
“Really? We’ve been abducted by three terrorists and you give me the Life of Riley?”
“Just trying to lighten the mood. You were right. These guys are good. Tailing the tail. We certainly didn’t see that coming.”
“Any ideas?”
“Not right off the bat. Let me sleep on it.”
There was very little sleep that night. I dozed off a time or two, but being bound to a hard-backed chair isn’t conducive to slumber.
Light was just creeping into the room when Yasir returned. “Time to go. I suppose I should offer you breakfast, your last meal and all, but there’s just no time. We have a train to catch.”
Mostafa unbound our feet and led us to a van. He pushed us inside and slammed the sliding door.
I estimated that thirty minutes had passed when the van came to a stop. The door slid open and across a grassy field, I saw a train carrying ten of the casks that I assumed held nuclear waste.
“Let’s go,” Yasir said, pushing us toward the train. “We have a schedule to keep.”
I couldn’t help but ask the question. “How in the world did you stop the train?”
“Actually, very easy,” he replied. “All we had to do was place a metal bar across the tracks. Their computer then detects a problem, the train stops, and they investigate. Ahmad was waiting for the two men when they disembarked.”
“Where are they?” I asked, fearing the worst.
“Let’s just say they won’t be operating any trains for a while.”
“Then who’s going to run this thing?”
“That’s just it,” Yasir replied, smiling. “No one!”
By this time, we had reached the engine. “Climb aboard. I’ll help you since your hands are tied.”
He boosted us into the cab of the big engine, then bound our feet again.
“Now I’ll just take a few minutes to disable the Positive Train Control and we’ll be ready to roll.”
A few minutes later, he returned. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to get things rolling, then bid you farewell. The train will pick up speed and level off at forty miles an hour. Waiting ahead is a coal train that is stopped for a crew change. There is only one switch between here and the coal train. Ahmed is disabling that switch as we speak. This train, carrying ten casks of nuclear waste will collide with the coal train, creating the most devastating disaster this country has ever seen. It will make Chernobyl look like a Sunday School picnic. Well, I must go now. Enjoy your ride.”
I heard him throw some levers and the train began to move. It started slowly, but quickly picked up speed.
“Okay,” I said. “You slept on it. Any ideas?”
“I just might,” Kevin replied. “When Ahab frisked us, he didn’t check for the knife in my boot. Wiggle around until you can reach my foot. The knife is inside.”
I wiggled and contorted until I could feel his boot. Since my hands were tied behind my back, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park extracting the knife, but I finally had it in hand.
“Okay,” Kevin said. “Hold it steady so I can free my feet.”
I could feel him running his feet back and forth across the blade. It took a few minutes for his feet to pop free.
“Now the hands,” he said, “and hold it still. I don’t want to cut off my pinkie.”
Once his hands were free, he cut me loose.
We climbed to our feet and looked out the window. By this time, the train was going full blast. The trees that lined the track were whizzing by alarmingly fast.
I looked at the bazillion gauges, levers, and switches on the control panel.
“I hope you know how to drive a train,” I said.
“Not a clue,” he replied.
Then I spotted the headset and radio hanging by the console. I slipped on the headset and pressed the button on the radio. “Is there anybody out there? Is anyone listening?”
I was overjoyed when I heard someone reply. “This is dispatch. Who is this?”
“My name is Walt Williams and I’m on a runaway train.”
“Mr. Williams! This is Rob, the dispatcher at the Kansas City Terminal Railway office. Where are you again?”
“Look at the squiggly line on your screen. We’re the train carrying the nuclear waste. Terrorists sabotaged the train, did something with the engineer, and destroyed the computer thingy that’s supposed to prevent train disasters. Before he left, he said we are going to collide with a coal train.”
“I can handle that,” Rob replied. “I can activate a switch that will take you around the coal train.”
“I don’t think so. He said that one of his men had disabled that switch.”
“Damn!” Rob muttered. “You’re right. It won’t move.”
“So what do we do now?”
“You’re going to drive the train,” Rob replied. “You’re going to make it stop. I’ll guide you through it.”
I had seen movies where air traffic controllers had helped some poor soul land a plane safely and thought it was pretty cool. In real life, not so much.
“But I don’t know squat about a train.”
“You can do this, Walt. Just look at the control panel.”
I looked and my knees grew weak. There was just so much.
“There are only two things you need to do,” Rob said, trying to reassure me. “The throttle is the lever on the lower right side. There are eight settings. Judging by your speed, it is probably in the highest setting. You just need to move the lever in the opposite direction. Go ahead.”
I grabbed the lever and heard the ‘clicks.’ The train immediately started slowing down.
“You’d better do something fast,” Kevin said. “I can see the coal train straight ahead.”
“Okay,” Rob said. “There are three other levers to the
left of the throttle. The top lever on the far left is the emergency brake. It will apply pressure to the locomotive and all the cars at the same time. Hold onto something and push that lever as far as it will go.”
“Hold on!” I said. I closed my eyes and shoved the lever as hard as I could.
I heard a lot of whooshing, screeching, and grinding.
When I opened my eyes, I saw that we had stopped about fifty feet from the coal train.
I looked at Kevin. My partner was white as a sheet.
“Next time we do this,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief, “I’ll remember to bring a change of underwear.”
CHAPTER 16
When Kevin and I didn’t come home, Maggie was beside herself with worry, assuming correctly that the terrorists had absconded with her husband and brother. She called Mark who initiated a massive manhunt, not knowing that we had been hog-tied and placed on a train carrying nuclear waste, and that said train was on a collision course that would ultimately end in a national disaster.
As soon as we were off the train, I called Mark and gave him the address of the bungalow on Cypress where Yasir had taken us.
Mark’s men hit the place, but the three terrorists were long gone. Seeing their plan foiled once again, they knew we were alive and would lead the authorities to their door.
Given everything that had happened, Mark doubled the surveillance around our building. If Yasir wanted me out of the way before, Mark figured this latest disruption of Yasir’s plans would only fuel his desire for revenge.
Anyone who approached our building, the UPS driver, the postman, or the guy who picked up our trash, were all frisked. If the little girl who sells Girl Scout cookies comes by, it will be a sale she will never forget.
A few days after my imitation of Casey Jones, I received a call from David Fox at the Kansas City Terminal Railway office.
“Walt, I’d like to run something by you. For some inexplicable reason, you and your father have somehow saved our company and several railroads millions of dollars, not to mention the countless lives that have been saved. We’d like to do a little something to show our appreciation.”
“I appreciate your offer,” I replied, “but it’s not necessary. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“Be that as it may, we’d still like to show our appreciation for your courageous acts.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Nothing elaborate. Just a dinner where we can extend our thanks for what you and your father have done for us. Of course, all your friends and family are invited to attend. What do you say?”
“Well, I suppose it would be all right, but I have one request.”
“Sure, anything.”
“I would like to include two men from the homeless camp, Harley and Delbert Wiggins. They were the ones who actually saw the terrorist plant the bomb on the ammonia tanker.”
“Uhhh, okay. I have no problem with that. How about Friday evening? That will give you a few days to invite your guests.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I figured if we were going to do this, we might as well do it big. In addition to all the residents in my building, I invited Kevin and Veronica, Ox and Judy, and Mary, the housemother at my Three Trails hotel.
After issuing these invitations, I went to the homeless camp by the tracks looking for the Wiggins brothers.
The weather had been bitter cold and snowy. When I arrived at the camp, I found Harley and Delbert huddled around a fire with their buddies, Roscoe, Pete and Wilbur.
“Hey, Walt!” Harley said, “Come hunker by the fire. You’ll catch your death out here.”
“Thanks, Harley. Could I have a word with you and your brother?”
I pulled them aside and told them about the appreciation dinner. “You two tipped me off about the terrorist. The railroad would like to have you there to say ‘thank you.’”
Harley looked at his tattered coat. We ain’t exactly dressed for some fancy dinner.”
“I thought about that,” I replied. “What would you think about stopping by the Salvation Army thrift store for some new threads?”
Harley looked at his brother. “Well, yeah. I guess that would be all right.”
“Great! Let’s go!”
At the thrift store, we got both brothers two sets of clean clothes, warm coats, and insulated boots.
“How would you like to spend the next couple of nights indoors?” I asked.
Before heading to the camp, I called Mary to see if we had any vacancies at the Three Trails. She said we did. Two of the guys who worked out of the day labor pool had gotten jobs with an oil company and were shipped off to Oklahoma to work in the oil fields.
“That’d be great,” Harley replied, “but we ain’t got no money.”
“You don’t need any,” I replied. “I own the Three Trails Hotel. I just happen to have two sleeping rooms available. What do you think?”
“Hell, yes!” they both said at once. “Can’t remember the last time I slept in a real bed.”
Yasir Patel could barely keep his rage in check.
Every one of his plans had been thwarted. He had to acquire new transportation, and now had to find a new place to stay --- all because of two old men!
“This interference must stop!” he said, gritting his teeth. “This coming Friday will be our chance to rid ourselves of these meddlers once and for all.
“I’ve been told that the railroad is having an appreciation dinner to thank them for saving their sorry asses. They will both be there, along with their friends and family. A well-placed bomb will accomplish two things for us. It will rid us of our tormentors and it will lay waste to the complex that directs train traffic through the second largest rail system in the country. Rail traffic will come to a halt and it will take months to rebuild their system. Come, we have work to do.”
The day before the dinner, I received a call from Mark.
“I understand the railroad is throwing you a party Friday evening.”
“That’s right. Would you like to come? I’m sure David Fox wouldn’t object.”
“No, he won’t object. I’ve already talked to him. In fact, he insisted that I be there with my team. Think about it, Walt. You’ve screwed up Patel’s plans five times. Now, you, Dad, and Kevin are all going to be together in the one place they want to destroy --- the railroad! What better time to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak?”
“So, you think he’ll be planning an attack?”
“I do, and we’re not going to let that happen. Tomorrow, my men will go over the building with a fine-toothed comb. We’ll have bomb-sniffing dogs check out every square inch. If they’re planning something, we’ll find it.”
I hadn’t really thought about it, but he was right. If Patel wanted to get revenge for all the trouble we had caused, this would be the perfect time for sure.
When we arrived at the Terminal Railway building on Friday evening, it was comforting to see Mark’s men at every entrance. We even had to pass through a metal detector, and Bernice was upset when they confiscated the little .32 she keeps strapped to her leg.
“But what if those A-rabs show up?” she protested. “I need my gun!”
Mark assured her that he would handle the A-rabs, but Bernice wasn’t a happy camper.
Before moving on to the meeting room, I cornered Mark. “Did your guys find anything?”
“Nothing yet,” he replied, “and that’s what worries me. I would have bet anything that he’d make a move of some kind.”
Once we were all seated, David Fox made some opening remarks, then invited us to move to the buffet line to fill our plates.
Harley and Delbert acted like they had died and gone to heaven. This was undoubtedly the best meal they had had in years.
I went through the line and filled my plate, then I moved to the beverage bar to get a soft drink.
As I stood there waiting for my Sprite, I noticed the soft drink can
nisters along the back wall.
My mind immediately went back to my first year on the police force. Ox and I were working crowd control at the Gay Pride Parade. A group calling themselves the Avenging Angels had planted a bomb in a cannister just like the ones I was looking at. The devastation was horrible and many lives were lost.
I caught Mark’s eye and motioned him to come over.
I pointed to the cannisters. “By any chance did your guys check out those things?”
I saw the puzzled look on his face. “No, probably not. Aramark, one of the largest food service companies in Kansas City, is catering the dinner. We checked out the delivery people and the servers. We didn’t see any red flags.”
“If you don’t mind, humor me and check them out. I just have a feeling.”
A few minutes later, one of the K-9 dogs appeared with his handler. He sniffed one container, then moved on to the next. At the third container, he stiffened.
“Got something,” the handler said.
Mark called the bomb squad, and the cannister was removed as unobtrusively as possible.
Nevertheless, it was somewhat unnerving when the guests saw a man in protective gear removing a device that would have definitely spoiled our dinner.
Everything came to a halt as the Aramark employees were rounded up and questioned. Once he learned that the trucks transporting the food and supplies for the dinner were sometimes left unattended at the loading dock, he surmised that anyone could have slipped in unnoticed and planted the cannister with the bomb. Later that evening, going through surveillance footage from the Aramark loading dock, Mark spotted Mostafa Jafari with the deadly cannister.
Once order was restored, we finished our dinner without further interruption.
When everyone had eaten their fill, Fox stepped up to the microphone.
“As I’m sure you’re all aware, we’re here tonight to thank three men who have risked their lives several times, and in doing so, have saved the lives of thousands of Kansas City citizens, not to mention a small fortune in damages to the railroads who serve our community. Walt Williams, John Williams, and Kevin McBride, please stand.”
[Lady Justice 41] - Lady Justice and Terror on the Tracks Page 8
