The Hunters

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘That lead to where?’ McNutt asked.

  It was Garcia who responded through their earpieces. ‘To a whole set of tracks with a generous selection of destinations. Sorry I didn’t notice it before. I didn’t know where to look.’

  As the group took that in, McNutt borrowed Sarah’s light and ambled over to the wall in front of them. ‘Brilliant. All of it.’

  ‘What?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘The guys who made this wall knew what they were doing,’ McNutt said.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘They used high explosives to take down the top of the walls and part of the tunnel ceiling. They wanted to pulverize the rock.’

  ‘To keep from damaging the rails?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘No,’ McNutt said. ‘They knew they weren’t going to hurt the tracks.’ He grabbed a handful of black soil. ‘This used to be bark. They covered the tracks with logs to protect them from the impact of falling rock. Then they simply left the logs to rot. But they pulverized the rock to make sure that a subsequent explosion - our explosion, as luck should have it - would reduce it to itty-bitty pieces that a train with a cowcatcher like Ludmilla’s could push right through.’

  ‘How does the explosion play out?’ Sarah asked. ‘You can’t just blow up the rock wall without blowing up the track.’

  ‘You’re right,’ McNutt said, calling upon his background in demolition. ‘We use the boring tool and the explosives they left behind. Set the TNT up and down the walls. The blowback from the walls and ceilings will be focused right on this spot, on the blockade. The small rocks become smaller rocks. The smaller rocks turn to dust. We drive right through. That’s why I said all of it was brilliant. This was not something the prince and his team just improvised.’

  Sarah walked over and took back her penlight. She shined it over the wall that she would have to climb to set the unstable, ancient explosives.

  ‘Can you rig it?’ Cobb asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Three days if McNutt helps. Before dawn if he leaves me alone.’

  McNutt grimaced. Not at her comment, but at the steep walls of the cave. ‘Don’t you need a grappling hook?’

  Sarah made an ‘are-you-kidding-me?’ face.

  ‘What about the fuse?’ Cobb asked.

  ‘I found a detonator,’ she assured him as she shooed them away.

  Cobb left and McNutt followed. They met Jasmine and Dobrev at the mouth of the cave.

  ‘Borovsky, Anna, and Decebal went back to the village to prepare the people for a showdown,’ Jasmine said. ‘What did you find?’

  ‘The way out,’ Cobb said. ‘But first, we need to get our train back.’

  McNutt looked as if dark clouds had parted and a shaft of heavenly light had shined directly on him. He cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

  ‘How do you know they haven’t started driving it back to Russia by now?’ Jasmine asked.

  Cobb smiled at Jasmine. ‘For one thing, they think they’ll need it to haul out Rasputin and the rest of the treasure,’ he said before pointing at Dobrev. ‘For another …’

  The engineer looked like a cat that had just eaten a canary.

  He held up the ignition key.

  58

  Friday, September 21

  Midnight in Romania

  McNutt stared at the key. ‘It’s really that simple?’

  ‘It’s that simple,’ Cobb replied. ‘We needed something that wouldn’t destroy the engine or take too long to rectify, so no sugar in the gas tank. He also blocked the air intake, but that’s neither here nor there.’

  ‘Can’t they just bypass it?’ he asked.

  Cobb looked over to Jasmine, who passed the question to Dobrev.

  When the engineer finished his derisively tinged words, Jasmine said, ‘It generally translates to—’ She stuck her tongue between her lips and made a slobbering sound.

  ‘Russian raspberry,’ McNutt laughed. ‘I like it.’

  ‘Nobody knows that engine better than Dobrev,’ Cobb said. ‘I had Jasmine ask him for a favor when we started out. He tied the cylinders into a central “starter” unit. Easy to do, given the way the fuel feeds into the engine. If you don’t know how to untie and reconnect everything, the train won’t run.’ Cobb smiled appreciatively at the old engineer. ‘You might not have been able to cripple the whole thing with one key before he got his hands on it, but you can now.’

  ‘I’m still confused,’ Garcia said. ‘I thought there was nowhere for the train to go?’

  ‘If nothing else, they could have gone in reverse and stranded us,’ Cobb said. ‘That would have bought the Black Robes time to call in reinforcements.’

  ‘They’re nothing if not well connected,’ Jasmine said.

  Cobb glanced at Dobrev. ‘You sure he won’t sit this one out?’

  Jasmine shook her head. ‘He’s adamant. He says you need him. And more importantly, Ludmilla needs him!’

  Cobb sighed. God save him from people who did things for love instead of money. There was no talking them into or out of anything.

  Carrying a lantern that Cobb had appropriated from the train - amazingly, it still had oil inside and the wick still took a flame - they began walking the mile toward the village. As they traversed the dark woods, Cobb quietly discussed the plan of attack with McNutt. When they reached the edge of the settlement, not far from the site where the Black Robes had gone down, Cobb and McNutt checked the remaining ordnance in McNutt’s duffel bag.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ Garcia said as he met them outside the village. ‘The train is crawling with Black Robes, all of whom now have access to everything remaining in the freight car armory, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Cobb said.

  ‘And you’re going to take the train back from them.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘There’s something back there we need,’ McNutt said. ‘Jack’s toy.’

  ‘No more a toy than anything you use,’ Cobb said. There was bite in his response. He enjoyed his work and his tools, but he never confused war for recreation, and he never took pleasure from it unless it was used for a purpose. ‘We’re going to teach the Black Robes the difference between someone who knows how to do this and someone who just thinks they do.’

  ‘Even so,’ Garcia pressed. ‘You’re severely outnumbered. What are you going to do, just hike over and take the train?’

  McNutt grinned. ‘More or less.’

  * * *

  Borovsky saw the lantern and came over with Decebal. They weren’t sure what to expect, whether the team would be trying to make off with treasure. If they noticed that Sarah wasn’t with them, they did not mention it.

  They looked like they were going to throw a fit about the flaming lantern, but Cobb, through Jasmine, cut them off with a description of his intentions. That shut them up and ensured their cooperation. Both men said they wanted to go after the train. But Cobb impressed upon them the importance of concealment and surprise - not to mention that this was not a scorched-earth mission. At least not yet. This was retake and extract.

  Besides, the leader of the honor guard already had plenty to do.

  ‘If for some reason the Black Robes decide to come after the village,’ Cobb said, ‘you’ll have to lead the defense.’

  After Jasmine translated for Borovsky who then translated for Decebal, the men agreed. With a look that was a cross between disbelief and admiration, the two men left the team to go about their business. Cobb sent Jasmine and Garcia with them. He knew they would be safer with Borovsky and Decebal than they would be with him.

  * * *

  It was the middle of the night when Cobb, McNutt, and Dobrev walked quietly down the incline they had ridden up just hours ago.

  Dobrev was dressed in dark clothes that Decebal had supplied from the villagers when they first arrived, along with soft calfskin boots that allowed him to walk without making a sound. Cobb and McNutt wore only the long-sleeve T-shi
rts and matching pants, with combat boots.

  None of the three wore camouflaging make-up.

  McNutt kept a Russian Val assault rifle in his hands. He found it to be one of the most effective sound-suppressed guns he’d ever used. It could also hold twenty rounds and a night vision scope, which greatly improved its already impressive efficiency.

  In his holster at his waist was a Heckler & Koch USP Tactical nine-millimeter automatic, complete with a specifically designed sound suppressor. He had thrown these into his duffel bag because, as he explained to Cobb, ‘I wasn’t sure if we’d have to sneak away quietly from the village in the middle of the night.’

  Cobb would make do with the leftovers - the only other weapons that McNutt had stuffed in the duffel that included silencers. Those were the Ruger Mark III with built-in suppressor that McNutt had carried while hunting the first Black Robe under the train back in Moscow and an Uzi-Pro - an improved version of the Micro-Uzi, made by the Israeli military to be even smaller, lighter, and more effective than its older big brothers.

  If it had come to a firefight with the honor guard in the middle of the village, the villagers wouldn’t have stood a chance. But Cobb was grateful it hadn’t come to that. These people were good, and honorable. Just because they were on a different side of a situation didn’t seem like a good reason to slaughter them. Taking their treasure, however, was an unfortunate necessity. Hopefully, it could be done without hurting anything more than their civic pride.

  As for the Black Robes, they would receive no such con-sideration. They were the ones who had invited death to play at the table. It was too late to fold.

  Cobb and McNutt would make sure of that.

  59

  Four Black Robes armed with AK-47s were spread between the front of the engine and the northern tree line. They were supposed to be vigilant. Luckily, they were not.

  It corroborated what Cobb had been thinking. The zealots were all passionate but they were not all trained fighters.

  The first guard was standing beside the engine, looking off at the countryside - glorious even in the darkness. The stars twinkled, the treetops rustled in the cool breeze, and the flowered grassland shifted like an animated work of art. The second guard leaned on the other side of the engine, admiring the Bren Mark I he had stolen from the armory. The third was actually stretched out in the grass between the two others, apparently napping.

  Cobb motioned for the others to stay put. Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long. The fourth guard, who was leaning on the front of the engine, smoking - a glowing bull’s-eye to mark the location of his head - pushed himself up and wandered into the woods. This was apparently his definition of a ‘patrol’.

  He roamed far enough away from his associates that no one but Dobrev noticed two shadows converging on the Black Robe’s back from either side. The engineer was amazed at how quick and quiet the men were.

  Dobrev saw the two shadows seemingly blend into the man’s back, but he was surprised when they hesitated. Then he realized why. McNutt was waiting until he had clear access to the man’s head, after which he snapped a garrote around the man’s throat - blackened so it didn’t glint in the moonlight. No sooner had he done so, even before the man could gag, Cobb slammed his palm into the man’s nose using the cigarette as a guide. McNutt yanked the man back, holding him upright, as Cobb punched the Black Robe in the gut like a jackhammer.

  Dobrev listened carefully. The man had barely made a sound; the attackers had made none at all. Since McNutt was now holding the man slightly off the ground, all there was to hear was the fluttering cloth of his robe. The dead man made more noise being lowered to the ground than the living man had made when they killed him.

  Cobb and McNutt stripped the dead guard of his jacket, pants, and tunic in seconds - the garroting shadow slipping the outfit on in the same amount of time.

  Leaving his rifle and automatic with Cobb, McNutt took the Ruger Mark III and held it low to his side so it blended in with his new pants. He calmly and silently walked out of the woods in the direction that the patrolling Black Robe had come, and sauntered purposefully toward the Black Robe who was resting on the ground.

  Without attempting conversation, he simply sat next to the napping guard. The moment that the guard’s body blocked the other guards’ view, McNutt snaked the Ruger over so the suppressor’s end was a millimeter away from the man’s upper ear. McNutt coughed and pulled the trigger at the same time.

  The dead guard turned his head, seemingly by himself - the small, .22 caliber round remaining within his skull. McNutt had fired at an angle that sent the spray of blood and tissue up and away from the man’s tunic. They needed three more robes, and it wouldn’t do to have bloodstains on their outfits, even if black robes covered it well.

  ‘Be healthy,’ said the guard nearest McNutt.

  Dobrev knew it was the customary Russian reaction to a sneeze: the equivalent to ‘gesundheit’. McNutt didn’t know that, but he didn’t need to. He just quietly mimicked the cough of the firearm as he got up and approached the well-wisher.

  The third guard smiled and muttered something in Russian, apparently suggesting McNutt might be better off with a cigarette than with fresh air. McNutt passed, head down, and leaned on the side of the engine beside him with one arm, chuckling. A little laugh was a good response to just about anything that was said in a lighthearted voice. As soon as the third guard called over to the ‘resting’ guard to get up, McNutt placed the Ruger beside the man’s temple. His head snapped hard to the opposite side and then back - a muscle reflex - as McNutt jumped aside to avoid the blood.

  The moment the third guard went down, the fourth guard’s head opened like a blossoming flower on the other side of the engine, courtesy of the Val that was now in Cobb’s hand. As soon as they had three unstained outfits, it didn’t matter how bloody the fourth one was - and it was soaked, as the nine-millimeter subsonic bullet drilled right through the man’s brain and emerged from the other side, taking half his skull with it.

  The final sound was the gentle clatter of a rifle hitting the ground as the fourth guard fell. Only the moon, stars, trees, and grass saw two more human shapes emerge from the wood and start dressing in the clothes taken from the fallen guards.

  * * *

  Holding a Val assault rifle in one hand and wearing his new disguise, McNutt moved silently alongside the length of the train and pulled himself up into the cab of the engine. He didn’t expect it to be empty, and it wasn’t. There was another Black Robe, peacefully sleeping against the wall. He put the end of the Ruger a hair from the bottom of the sleeping man’s skull and pulled the trigger.

  ‘Sweet dreams,’ he mouthed silently.

  McNutt moved the body to the back of the cab, out of their way, as Cobb helped Dobrev inside. If Dobrev was bothered by the presence of the dead man, he did not show it.

  Heading for the back of the sleeping compartment car, McNutt heard talking. With the train engine off there were no compartment lights available, and the remaining guards were obviously conserving whatever battery power they had.

  In fact, based on the cursing he heard and the gestures he saw when he peeked through the window between the cars, it looked as though their hacker even had to cut his work short when his PC battery ran low. Without their own satellite, there was no cell phone communication. No one had thought to build towers this deep in the middle of nowhere. Only their leader had a direct connection to his headquarters: a radio using non-digital technology.

  Cobb stopped behind McNutt. They slowed as they neared the rear of the train, wary of any sentry. There was one, sitting on the lip of the door, his legs dangling above the track. He was casually holding an AK-47, looking out on the southern tree line. He seemed noncommittal, as if he wasn’t guarding anything or watching for anyone - just resting while thinking of home.

  From the safety of the empty adjoining car, McNutt conveyed his thoughts on the situation. ‘Everyone’s just sitting around. Like t
hey’re waiting for Rasputin.’

  ‘They probably are,’ Jasmine whispered in their ears.

  With that, McNutt took three silent steps across the junction that linked the two cars, aimed his rifle at the base of the Black Robe’s head, and squeezed the trigger. Pffft. The body slumped forward, but McNutt caught it before it fell from the train. He quietly laid the torso on the floor and then relieved the body of the AK. He didn’t bother looking to see if anyone else was there before racing back the way he had come.

  ‘Go,’ McNutt said quietly as he leaped onto the ladder on the side of the freight car.

  Cobb heard him in the doorway between the engine and the command center. He turned and saw Dobrev waiting tensely in the doorway of the cab, a dead body on the floor behind him.

  Cobb gave Dobrev the thumbs-up. Dobrev turned, stepped over the corpse, gripped the end of the ignition key, and twisted it.

  Ludmilla roared to life.

  60

  The entire, shuddering train seemed to come alive as the turnover of the engine began to power the generator, causing all the lights to flicker.

  From his position on top of the train, McNutt saw silhouettes stirring in the freight car, and Cobb could hear activity in the command center from his station in the cab.

  ‘We’ve got about one minute to button things up,’ Cobb said, knowing that Dobrev would need time for the engine to warm up.

  Black Robes poured from the freight car across the flatbed. McNutt let the first man almost reach the far door of the command center before he pumped a round into the back of his head.

  The five other Black Robes barely had time to assess the situation when McNutt began picking them off one by one, going from front to back, shifting his Val by just centimeters, his steel grip unfazed by the vibration of the train.

  The last of the six to emerge was the only Black Robe who had time to spin around to see McNutt standing on the roof of the freight car. It was the last thing he ever saw. McNutt took him down with a subsonic round between the eyes, then quickly surveyed the area. From this vantage point, he could not only cover the armory and the flatbed car but also see the terrain around the train. He was ready to mow down any that tried to get outside.