Chris Kuzneski - The Hunters

Cobb pulled the phone back and studied the picture of Papineau he had taken in Fort Lauderdale. He had long since known that Papineau had associates, men and women who helped him do his bidding, but now he had confirmation that there was someone higher up the ladder: a puppet-master, pulling Papineau’s strings.

Cobb rose. He thought about shooting the Russian in the head for all the carnage he had caused but decided that Sidorov deserved a long, lingering death.

Cobb went back to the H-4 as Sidorov lay dying on the roadway, his body still lodged in the window of the heavy BRDM. As Cobb took off, the ground trembled, bringing the inevitable fall of the vehicle that much closer. Cobb floated above the BRDM and watched as Sidorov pulled a single-shot pistol from somewhere under his robe. Cobb could not distinguish the model, but he knew the weapon’s singular purpose: it was designed to take one’s own life.

Sidorov pressed the barrel into the middle of his brow.

He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

A bullet in the brain — just like Rasputin.

As Sidorov’s limbs slumped to the earth, the ground underneath the BRDM finally gave way. Cobb watched as the massive vehicle slipped over the steep embankment and tumbled into the ravine. As a final insult, the BRDM burst into flames, sending a magnificent plume of smoke in Cobb’s direction — a fire that would burn Sidorov’s corpse beyond recognition.

Satisfied, Cobb turned the H-4 toward the village and the rest of his team, but deep inside, he wondered if anyone would ever go looking for the body of that lunatic.

Having returned to the train after the BRDM was immobilized by the rocket blast, McNutt kept an eye on things until Cobb’s arrival. Garcia was there, too, standing beside Anna, who was tending to an injured Borovsky. He was lying on a stretcher made from branches and leaves that the old women had assembled in what seemed like seconds.

Everyone watched as the H-4 hovered inches off the ground before it touched down like a dainty ballerina. The two counter-rotating blades slowed, then stopped abruptly. Cobb unclipped his seatbelt and slipped out of the aircraft.

‘What’s our status?’ he asked.

‘Chief,’ McNutt blurted, ‘you’re not going to believe this, but Jasmine and the treasure train are gone . Ludmilla is still here, but the old train is-’

‘Gone,’ Cobb said, not the least bit panicked. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll explain later.’

Garcia exhaled. ‘Good, because I’m totally confused.’

‘Welcome to my world,’ McNutt grumbled.

Cobb glanced around. ‘What’s the situation here?’

McNutt frowned and refocused. ‘The villagers gathered all of the dropped weapons, and they went after the remaining Black Robes,’ he reported, admiring the industry of the people, who were, even then, helping each other as much as they could. ‘I don’t envy any Black Robes who are unable to get away.’

Cobb looked over at the handful of surviving Black Robes. They looked simply numb — tired from their massive effort in a mission that they probably had never fully understood.

‘If they haven’t been killed yet, they won’t be,’ Cobb said. ‘At least not at the hands of the villagers.’

‘Trial or deprogramming?’ McNutt asked. ‘What do they do here?’

‘Russian gunmen in Romania?’ Cobb said. ‘They’ll have their brains rewired by the Serviciul de Informatii Externe, the Foreign Intelligence Service. Then they’ll be sent back to Moscow to spy.’

‘Better than a bullet in the back of the neck,’ McNutt opined. ‘Speaking of bullets, you okay?’

‘Dandy,’ Cobb replied.

‘We haven’t found anyone that we consider, shall we say, “leadership material” amongst the Black Robes,’ Garcia prodded. ‘We were thinking maybe you knew something about that?’

‘I do,’ Cobb answered. ‘And he’s been neutralized.’

‘Neutralized? Neutralized how?’

‘Shot. Crushed. Incinerated.’ Cobb answered. ‘That good enough?’

‘It wasn’t the first time around!’ McNutt joked. ‘They did all that and more to good ol’ Raspy, and he’s still sitting in the damn train — wherever that is.’

Cobb nodded, smiled, and exhaled with honest relief. It was the first time in a while that he allowed himself to enjoy McNutt’s humor. Then he visibly brightened and slapped McNutt on the back. ‘Nice shooting out there.’

‘Anna kept her steady when all get-out was … well, getting out,’ he said.

Cobb stepped forward to where Anna was hovering protectively over Borovsky and saluted her. With a smile, she saluted back. Then he put his hand out, and she took it.

‘ Spasiba ,’ he said.

‘You … are … velcome,’ she replied.

Cobb knelt beside Borovsky, whose right arm was in a sling. He slipped a hand under the Colonel’s shoulder, raised him slightly, pointed to the front of the train. On the track, in front of the locomotive, were three large, burlap sacks bulging to near bursting.

‘Gold,’ Cobb said. ‘For the village. They can start over, anywhere.’

Borovsky nodded in understanding. It would have been an exaggeration to call him happy, but he seemed contentedly resigned.

He said something in Russian before Cobb laid him back.

Jasmine’s voice was in his ear. ‘He said, “If I had to lose the treasure to a thief, at least it was an honorable one.”’

Cobb wanted to point out that the man was protecting stolen treasure. For that matter, the gold itself was probably bought with awful taxes levied on the Romanian people.

Instead, he simply nodded and walked away.

Choban, Romania

(63 miles east of village)

It was mid-afternoon when a virtually unrecognizable Sarah and Jasmine — dirty and sweaty from the blast and the battle — stepped off the treasure train on the edge of the sun-dappled town of Choban. Waiting for them was Jean-Marc Papineau, who had hired a crew of armed guards to protect the treasure on its journey to its final destination.

‘Well done, ladies,’ the Frenchman said.

‘That was quite a ride,’ Sarah said, running her hand through her soot-permeated hair. She took off her sunglasses and shook them. Black ash from the engine and white powder from the explosion drifted down, but her blue eyes gleamed.

Papineau’s eyes settled on Jasmine. ‘You learned quickly. I’m very proud.’

‘I had a master class,’ Jasmine said.

‘Under fire,’ Sarah added.

The moment Jasmine had finished the coupling maneuver with the rogue car, Sarah suddenly appeared in Ludmilla’s cab. She had explained that there was a new plan — one that only she and Cobb had known about. If the engine of the treasure train was operational, they were to uncouple the ancient cars and leave immediately. While everyone else was busy with the Black Robes, they would ensure that the treasure was safe.

Jasmine hadn’t wanted to leave Dobrev, but Sarah convinced her that they needed to put distance between the train and the Black Robes in case the fanatics triumphed; and that the conductor would be happier to lie in state with his lady.

Jasmine couldn’t dispute either point. When the old engine didn’t make an argument — it started immediately due to years of continual maintenance — she agreed to drive. As Ludmilla made her way back toward the main line they had traveled earlier, Sarah, Jasmine, and the treasure train took off in the opposite direction, down the other side of the mountain.

Under the watchful eyes of the armed guards, Papineau did a quick inventory of the treasure. He didn’t stop smiling until he reached the final car.