Warren Murphy - Engines of Destruction

Furio learned to walk through walls without fear. To place his feet so that he did not fall into the earth forever. And most frightening, to travel through telephone fiber-optic cable like fast smoke through endless straws.

They presented him with modern versions of the katana and other samurai weapons, too, and showed him how to employ their wondrous metal-cleaving blades and phantom properties.

When these things had been learned, too, the shogun told him of his mission. "You will go to America to play ball and undermine their rail system."

"Hai!" Furio barked, bowing his head sharply.

"You will kill many innocents."

"I am a samurai. I obey my shogun."

"You will live in an alien land."

"I am a samurai. I will do anything for my shogun. And to play American ball."

"Well spoken. Now, there is one last thing."

And as Furio stood at attention, the shogun stepped over and removed the four-moon corporate seal from his armored shoulder.

"Why. . . ?"

"You cannot be captured except by misadventure or malfunction. But you may be seen. You cannot be linked to us."

"But I am a samurai. You have made of me a lowly ronin. "

"When you return, your katana red with American blood, you will be a samurai once more," the shogun promised.

And behind his tinted faceplate, Furio Batsuka wept in secret. He had been a samurai for less than a day.

Still, it could have been worse. At least he had a job.

Chapter 25

The morning newspaper lay folded on Harold Smith's desk until after 11:00 a.m., its black headline screaming at him: RAIL MELTDOWN!

Smith had only glanced at the front page when his secretary laid it on his desk hours before. He was too busy trolling the net. The paper was of little value anyway. Printed in the middle of the night with hours-old information, it was already half a day behind the steady stream of bulletins moving on the wires.

A knock at the door caused Smith to withdraw his fingers from the capacity keyboard. Instantly the flat, illuminated keys went dark, fading into the black glass desktop, showing no trace that the desk harbored electronic secrets.

"Come in," said Smith.

The door opened, and Mrs. Mikulka poked her blue-haired head in. "Lunch, Dr. Smith?"

"Yes. The usual. And black coffee."

The door closed.

When Mrs. Mikulka returned, she laid the aqua particleboard tray on Smith's desk. He spread the newspaper on the desk. It was impossible to use the computer and eat. But the paper had one advantage. It was low tech.

So Smith ate and skimmed.

The news was as stale as he expected. The Amtrak derailments received extensive play. Congressional leaders were calling for the entire system to be shut down and abolished. There was a short but vague item on a hazardous-material situation in Nebraska that was obviously the ill-fated MX missile train. Smith made a mental note to deal with that problem later.

Under the fold was the beginning of an editorial that caught his eye. It was headlined US. RAIL SYSTEM TOO OLD?

Smith read along. Analysis always interested him. It was dry stuff. Exactly the kind he preferred. The editorial writer crisply summarized the current state of the US. rail infrastructure and pronounced it dangerously unsafe on account of its age.

Modern, state-of-the-art diesels run on rail beds first laid down during the Garfield administration. The fact is steelwheel technology is a product of the eighteenth century. The recent rash of rail accidents testifies to the dilapidated state of our once-great rail transportation system.

The future lies in bullet trains and magnetic-levitation technology. Clean, capable of speeds rivaling air travel, they are revolutionizing rail transportation around the world. Other nations have them. Why doesn't the U.S.?

The answer is simple. Conversion costs. With thousands of miles of track too run-down to upgrade economically, the only way the U.S. rail system can enter the twenty-first century is through a wholesale replacement of the existing trackage infrastructure. But those costs outweigh the savings of maglev by a factor of more than ten to one. The result-an impossible situation. The US. cannot implement maglev trains because of existing rail conditions. And it can't replace the tracks. Thus, the federal Maglev Initiative has been on the slow track for decades.

With this current spate of disasters, can the United States afford not to replace its rail network? Ask the Japanese, who are anxious to sell its maglev systems. Or the Germans, who have one of their own. Then ask if America, clinging to its historical love of old-style trains, can afford to lose its freight lines, as well as the dying passenger-rail system?

Smith blinked as he absorbed the last paragraph. "Maglev," he whispered.

Clearing his desktop, Smith brought his system up. He typed in the search command, then input, "Magnetic levitation."

Scrolling up came a long string of items. He skimmed them.

In under ten minutes he had absorbed the state of magnetic-levitation technology. It was first developed in the US. in the 1970s, but had been abandoned when a combination of cost and technical difficulties-solved since then-had made it impractical to implement. The Japanese and the Germans virtually controlled the field now, thanks to new advances in superconductor research.

Digging deeper, Smith pulled up the names of the Japanese firms that were in the forefront of maglev development.

He got only one: Nishitsu.

Keying off that, he asked the computer to pull up everything it could find on Nishitsu's maglev progress.

The first item might have hit him between the eyes. He leaned back in his chair.

An AP wire story only two days old, it told of the upcoming Rail Expo '96-to be held in Denver, Colorado-where new train technology from around the world would be on display to the public and industry alike. It was sponsored by an international consortium that included Nishitsu Industrial Electrical Corporation.

Smith frowned. He had heard of air shows where new technology was displayed, but not comparable rail shows.

Initiating a search, he attempted to learn more. There was no more. Then he realized the expo was already taking place. Today was the opening day.

Smith found a contact number and called it.

"Rair Expo '96," a chipper female voice said. It was obviously Japanese.

"Yes. I have just read about your function. Is is possible to fax me additional information?"

"Of course."

"Good." Smith gave her the number, then hung up.

The corner fax machine began beeping and whirring five minutes later. Smith pulled out the sheets as they came out one at a time.

There seemed nothing unusual about the information until the last sheet rolled out.

Smith was trained to pick out individual words or word strings of interest from large blocks of text. It was a speed-reading ability that had served him in good stead down through the years at CURE.

So it was not unusual that the instant his eyes fell on the last page, they jumped on two words that were uppermost in his mind. A name.

Furio Batsuka.

Eyes wide, Smith returned to his desk. He was reading as he fell into his cracked-leather executive chair.

Furio Batsuka, major-league slugger, formerly with the Osaka Blowfish, would be signing autographs all three days.

"My God!" said Harold Smith. "Could it be?"

HAROLD SMITH'S FACE was stark white when he burst into the Folcroft gymnasium.

"I have found the Nishitsu ronin, " he said.

"Where?" said Remo.

"He is signing autographs at the Rail Expo in Denver."

"Oh, that. That's where K.C. was headed."

"Who is K.C.?" asked Smith.

"A sensitive soul," said Chiun.

"A rail nut," said Remo.

Smith said, "According to what I have, Furio Batsuka is his real name. He is a Japanese baseball player who was released from the Osaka Blowfish four years ago. He came to this country and was signed up by a minor-league team. A year ago he joined the Seattle Mariners as a batter."