Warren Murphy - Engines of Destruction

Then the Limited was gone. The shadows returned. Night closed in again.

And Remo and Chiun stood at the foot of the bridge and looked at each other.

"Guess Smitty was wrong."

"We must get word to him," said Chiun.

"How? We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Did you not say that trains have telephones now?"

"Yeah. But we're a little late to catch the Sunset Limited. "

"Not if we hurry," said Chiun.

THEY PUSHED THE BOAT into the water and sent it racing down the waterway.

The tracks wound in a serpentine in and out of the bayou. That made it possible to beach the boat at a point down the line before the Sunset Limited reached it.

Taking up positions at trackside, Remo and Chiun waited as the headlights bored toward them.

Gauging its speed, they began to run, ahead of the train and parallel to the track.

The silver train had slowed to fifty miles per hour. Remo and Chiun got up to that speed and held it.

The engine barreled past. They let the forward coaches do the same.

The end car was baggage. Since they were traveling at the same velocity, it was easy enough to hop on at the back, cling a moment, then force the rear door open.

When they worked their way forward to a passenger coach, Remo and Chiun attracted no more attention than normal.

Remo found a rail phone. He activated it with a credit card.

"Smitty. You guessed wrong. The ronin didn't hit the bridge."

"I know, Remo," Smith said wearily. "He has been creating carnage in several other places instead. There are many casualties."

Smith filled Remo in on the new pattern of recreated derailments.

"So why'd he skip this one?" Remo asked. "Some of those other crashes are pretty small potatoes."

"He is building toward something. Perhaps he is saving Bayou Canot. "

"Saving it for what?"

"That," said Harold Smith with an audible grinding of teeth, "is the question of the hour."

"Well, I may have part of the answer."

"Go ahead, Remo."

"We came across a guy laying fiber-optic cable along the tracks. Did you know they're laying cable along rail bed all over the country?"

"Yes. That is how the SPRINT company has created its telephone system."

"SPRINT?"

"It stands for Southern Pacific Railroad Internal Telephone."

"The railroads are in the telephone business?" Remo blurted out.

"Yes. Some."

"Well, now they're laying cable for the information superhighway, too. Mean anything to you?"

"The Nishitsu Corporation is attempting to sabotage our computer links!" Smith snapped. "This has nothing to do with the rail system at all."

"That's how I read it."

"Excellent work, Remo."

"You are both wrong," sniffed Chiun. "The Japanese are envious of American railroads. Their destruction is the insidious goal."

"Tell Chiun that the Japanese rail system is far more sophisticated than our own," Smith said. "And please return to Folcroft immediately."

Hanging up, Remo said; "You hear that?"

"The man is an inveterate rationalist."

"You're just jealous because I was right and you were wrong."

"You are never right and I am never wrong."

Just then the conductor accosted them and asked if they had tickets.

"I entrusted mine to this lackey," said Chiun, pointing at Remo while breezing haughtily past the conductor.

Chapter 23

Dawn was breaking over Folcroft Sanitarium when Remo and Chiun finally got back.

"What's the latest?" asked Remo.

Chiun flew to his steamer trunk, checked the lock to make sure it hadn't been tampered with, then relaxed.

Harold Smith was hollow of eye and voice. "There have been a half-dozen derailments and rail accidents overnight. The loss of life is significant. Almost thirty people."

Remo grunted. "You lose more people in one average plane crash."

"That is not how it will play in the morning papers," said Smith. "The National Railroad Passenger Corporation is known for its comparatively good safety record. This will be seen as a symptom of its decline and unworthiness to continue operating."

Remo frowned. "What's the National Railroad Passenger Corporation?"

"Amtrak."

"How do they get 'Amtrak' out of 'National Railroad Passenger Corporation'?"

Smith declined to reply. He was scanning his computer screen. There had been no movement on the part of the ronin in more than two hours. None of the three fake phone cards was in play.

"Guess he tucked himself in for the night," said Remo unhappily.

"The last location I have for him is Denver, Colorado."

"Want us to go there?"

"Not yet."

Chiun spoke up. "Emperor, where are the katanas of the ronin? I would like to examine them."

Smith pointed to one of a row of ancient oaken file cabinets that occupied a corner of the office. "Top drawer."

Chiun went to the one indicated and extracted the matched katana blades. Remo drifted up.

"A descendant of Odo of Obi forged these," Chiun said firmly.

"If you say so," said Remo. "What I'd like to know is how they rematerialize."

"A timer," Smith said absently.

"Oh, yeah?"

Smith nodded without looking up from his screen. "I discovered a minitimer in each hilt. Once the button is pressed, the dematerialized state is of short duration but can be regulated. That is how the ronin was able to decapitate the Texarkana engineer without entering the cab. He threw the blade through the windscreen, whereupon it rematerialized and decapitated him, then due to the speed of the oncoming train, buried itself in the bulkhead, solid once more."

"So how come it didn't break?" asked Remo.

"It is made of some metal or substance that is highly flexible yet strong. I have not yet identified it."

Remo shrugged. "At least we got some of his arsenal."

"By the way, I cleaned the battery contacts in the dead katana. It is working again. So be careful."

Chiun addressed Smith. "Emperor, might we be allowed time to ourselves?"

"Yes. Just remain within the building."

Tucking the blades under one arm, Chiun said, "Come, Remo. I have much to teach you before we confront the dastardly ronin once more."

"Teach me what?"

"The art of the katana. "

Remo blinked. "What happened to 'weapons sully the purity of the art'?"

"You have no blades to call your own. And there is no time to grow proper Knives of Eternity."

"So you're going to drag me into sword fighting?" Remo said doubtfully.

"It is a dubious exercise, I know. But to fight a ghost, one must employ arcane methods. To fight a ghost with a short-fingered accomplice such as yourself is folly."

Remo thought about that. "I think I've been insulted."

"Come."

Remo folded his arms. "Not a chance. You always taught me to disdain swords, so I'm abstaining."

"You cannot abstain when the honor of the House is at stake!" Chiun flared. He clenched his fists before him.

"Tough. I've taken enough guff for one day. I'm abstaining."

Chiun whirled on Smith. "Emperor, talk sense to this wayward one."

"Remo, please." Smith didn't look up. He continued tapping his illuminated keyboard.

Remo looked at Chiun and purred, "What'll you trade me for cooperating?"

Chiun's eyes narrowed. "What do you wish in trade?" he asked thinly.

Remo glanced at the big steamer trunk with the lapis lazuli phoenixes resting on the office divan. "A peek inside."

"That will not release you from carrying it with you if I so command," Chiun said quickly.

"Damn. I changed my mind. Trade you for permanent release from lugging duty."

"Too late!" Chiun crowed. "You have stated your heart's desire. Learn the art of the katana and I will allow you a peek. But only one."

"Guess you got me."

"Yes. I have you. Now, make haste. And bring my precious trunk."