Алистер Маклин - Death Train

‘No!’ Kolchinsky interceded sharply. ‘She’s here on merit and you know it. You’ve seen her shooting, she’s in a class of her own. I’ll tell you this, you were the envy of every Strike Force member when you were brought in to replace Jacques. They’d have done anything to be in her team.’

Graham got to his feet. ‘There’s a pinball machine over in the corner. It’ll help pass the time.’

He was still playing the machine when the helicopter pilot arrived forty minutes later.

Kolchinsky took him across to meet Graham.

‘Are you ready, Tommy?’

‘I’m impressed,’ Graham said without taking his eyes off the machine. ‘I didn’t know they showed films like that in Russia.’

‘I saw it at the Odeon in Leicester Square. I hated it.’

‘I’m not surprised, it’s hardly a film for geriatrics.’

‘Thank you very much. Actually I went with one of the secretaries from the Russian Embassy. She wanted to see it.’

‘Enough said,’ Graham replied and clocked up his seventh free game. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’

They left the station and climbed into the hired Peugeot 305. It was a short journey to the makeshift airfield, a flat strip of snow-covered grassland on the outskirts of the town. Graham grabbed his two holdalls and made his way towards the Lynx helicopter. Kolchinsky spoke to the pilot through the open driver’s window then walked across to where Graham was waiting.

‘Ready?’

‘Ready, but why isn’t the pilot warming up the helicopter?’

‘Because he’s not flying it. I am.’

‘You are?’ Graham said with surprise. ‘Since when do you fly helicopters?’

‘Since I got my licence twenty years ago.’ Graham exhaled deeply then moved over to the helicopter and climbed in beside Kolchinsky. ‘You’re quite safe, I assure you.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Graham said, strapping himself into the seat. ‘I just never knew you could fly these contraptions. I suppose the KGB trained you?’

‘On the contrary. I learnt to fly while I was serving as a military attaché in Stockholm. It was something to alleviate the boredom.’

The pilot, who had been directing the Peugeot’s headlights at the helicopter, returned Kolchinsky’s wave, then swung the car round and headed back towards the highway.

‘How long before we catch up with the train?’ Graham asked once they were airborne.

‘You’re sitting on the map.’

Graham tugged the map free and opened it out on his knees. He traced his finger along the dotted black line representing the railway track. ‘If my memory serves me correctly it was due out of Modena at 4.45. It’s now–’ he pushed back his cuff to reveal his gold plated Piaget watch ‘–5.17. How long was it due to stay in Modena?’

‘Fifteen minutes.’

‘Then it should be somewhere around Castelfranco Emilia right now, about twenty-five miles away.’

‘We’re slightly ahead of the schedule Zurich radioed through to the pilot. That means we should catch up with the train before it reaches Anzola d’Emilia. Are you with me?’

‘You knew all along, why didn’t you just say when I asked you?’

‘Just testing,’ Kolchinsky replied with a smile.

Graham folded the map and slipped it behind the seat. He unclipped his watch and turned it around in his hands. ‘Carrie gave me this for my thirty-fifth birthday. We went to the theatre that night. She’d booked the tickets five months in advance. She even got me to wear a tux.’

‘You in a tuxedo? I can’t imagine it.’

‘Neither could I, but she was determined to make a night of it. We took in the show on Broadway then went on to Christ Cella’s where I had the best T-bone steak I’ve ever tasted, and we ended up drinking Irish coffees at Fat Tuesday’s until three in the morning. What’s more she paid for everything. God only knows what it must have cost her but she refused to let me touch my wallet. She kept insisting it was my night. It was the last time we ever went out together. I was sent to Libya ten days later.’

‘Vasilisa loved the theatre. We’d go at least once a month but I haven’t been now for over seven years, not since she died. It wouldn’t be the same without her.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Graham said, then snapped the watch around his wrist.

Kolchinsky checked the Air-Speed Indicator then glanced at his watch. ‘We should be over the train in a couple of minutes.’

Graham zipped his parka up to his neck and pulled on a pair of gloves.

‘Don’t forget the balaclava,’ Kolchinsky reminded him.

‘I don’t intend to, it’s in my holdall.’

‘Michael, you don’t–’

‘I know, it’s dangerous as hell but we agreed last night that it’s essential to the success of the operation. Don’t worry, I’m your man. The boss has always called me a daredevil, now it’s time to live up to the image.’

‘You’ve always lived up to it.’

‘You look more nervous than me. Christ, all you have to do is hold this baby steady. I’m the one who has to rappel in the pitch dark on to the roof of a moving train.’

Kolchinsky handed him a miniature headset consisting of an earphone and microphone connected by a thin strip of durable wire. Graham slipped it on then clambered into the cabin where he pulled the balaclava over his head.

‘Train a hundred yards ahead,’ Kolchinsky said into his mouthpiece.

Graham unlocked and opened the hatch, flooding the cabin with a rush of glacial air. After checking that one end was securely bolted to the cabin floor he flung the rope ladder out through the open hatch. He looped his hand through the wallstrap and leaned forward precariously, trying to catch a glimpse of the train. He could vaguely make out its outline in the helicopter’s dimmed undercarriage lights. It was at least sixty feet below them.

‘I’m going to need more light,’ he said.

‘Look in the black box behind you, there should be a Halolight in there.’

Graham undipped the box lid and opened it. He found what he was looking for. A disc-shaped light attached to a leather headband which could be adjusted according to the wearer’s specification. It had been created in the UNACO laboratories along the lines of the Davy lamp. He fitted it around his head then ensured the light was positioned in the centre of his forehead.

‘Ready,’ he said, moving to the open hatch.

There was a brief silence before Kolchinsky spoke. ‘Altitude thirty-eight feet. Ready.’

Graham turned his back on the open hatch and took a firm grip on the section of rope ladder lying on the cabin floor. He stepped out into the bitterly cold night air. Although the wind was negligible the rope ladder was swaying from side to side due to the concentrated buffeting of the rotors above him.

‘How are you doing?’ Kolchinsky asked.

‘The rotors are whipping up a bit of a hurricane out here. No chance of switching them off, I suppose?’

He heard Kolchinsky’s chuckled response in his earpiece.

Each step was a carefully planned manoeuvre, easing his foot off one rung and on to the next where he had to feel for the right grip before committing himself. There was an element of cautious apprehension in his movements, but no fear in his eyes. He had long since come to regard fear as man’s most negative characteristic. With fear came hesitancy, stupidity and uncertainty, any of which could cost a life. He had witnessed it countless times on the battlefields of Vietnam where he had come to learn so much about himself. He regarded fear as nothing more than a chimera and the only way to negate it was an absolute belief in one’s own ability. It was a principle he had carried over into his training of Meo tribesmen in Thailand after his injury in Vietnam. His critics accused him of brainwashing his troops with little consideration for human life, especially when it was revealed he used live ammunition during the weekly obstacle course. His answer had been simple. The only way to combat fear was to confront it, and believe enough in oneself to overcome it. Figures released after the war showed that over a two-year period his troops had not only suffered the least casualties but had also been awarded the most medals for bravery out of all the Meo battalions in Thailand.