Suddenly Elsa screamed at him and jumped out of her chair. “I know it was! But what can I do if you all keep putting yourselves in front of it, trying to save everyone else, trying to protect everyone else? What can I do but make sure you’re fed and hope that you’re safe and fix the damn step and pray for sunny days with no storms?!” She flopped back into the uncomfortable chair, her stoic resolve gone again. “If you boys want to stop the bad guys, then let me try to stop the accidents. That’s all I ask.”
Suddenly she started crying again.
Sam dropped into the seat next to her and squeezed her tight.
Elsa picked up the hem of her generous dress and wiped her tears away. “The same thing happened to the Professor,” she said in a reflective voice. “It happened all those years ago, before I even met him. He doesn’t talk about it. He only mentioned it once—that he lost his sight in a fall. A very bad fall.” She whimpered. “Just like Eden’s fall. Only I fear Eden may lose more than just his sight.”
She put her head on Sam’s shoulder and a cascade of tears soaked up his shirt. He hugged her even tighter as a sweat-soaked Dr. Dante emerged from intensive care. The Italian surgeon slipped off his mask and looked from Sam to Elsa.
“I’m afraid we tried everything…”
XVII
Beijing, China
THE PROFESSOR WAS STILL SLUMPED IN HIS CHAIR, unconscious, when Doctor Cyclops staggered back into the master carriage. Sen was awake, tied to his chair, and sneered at Cyclops as he stumbled past. Suddenly courageous, Sen shouted abuse at the drunk man in Chinese.
The one-eyed doctor simply ignored him. As he set his bottle down hard on the desk—next to the empty ones—the cell phone on the desk rang as though the slam had set it off. Doctor Cyclops jumped, then found himself amused by his own surprise. He picked up the phone. His amusement was short-lived.
“You fucking fool, you’ve been followed! Show me their bodies when I arrive.”
It was Chad’s voice, short and furious. And suddenly the phone call was over.
The Zhang Express Terminal looked even more like a prison on the inside: a vast concrete yard, square in shape, surrounded by four high walls and dotted by tall weeds here and there. The moon was rising, illuminating several rail lines that crisscrossed the yard, slipping away under another enormous gate at the far end of the terminal.
In the center of the yard, positioned on the tracks and facing the exit gate, was a six-car steam train. The curtains were drawn in the third car, the one directly behind the coal car, but Shane and Luca could see the lights on inside.
Then suddenly the lights went off.
In the shadows along the wall, Shane turned to Luca. “I think someone knows we’re here.”
Luca glanced left and right. “Let’s split up. You start at the front of the train, I’ll take the rear and work forward.” As the moon crept higher, the two of them bolted across the yard in separate directions, leaving the gate ajar behind them, ready for a quick getaway.
The last car of the train was not a carriage at all, but a long flatbed platform. Climbing onto it, Luca saw several chains secured along the length of the platform. Then he turned to the second-to-last car and stepped across the large steel coupling—the linchpin that connected the two cars together—and climbed over the railing to stand on the back landing. There was a door leading into the darkened car. Luca tried the ornate gold handle. It was unlocked.
He pushed it open enough to peer inside, but could see nothing through the darkness. He thought about taking a step inside, but paused, trying to allow his eyes to adjust. Soon he could make out the shape of what appeared to be a large bed in the center of the car. On the walls around the room he picked up glints and glimmers here and there, random reflections of the moonlight outside bouncing off unknown objects. There seemed to be no other signs of life. It gave Luca the confidence to push the door open a little wider. He planned to give himself just enough space to slip through, find out whether or not there was somebody hiding behind the door, then explore further.
He never got that far.
As Luca edged the door open, a thin arm seized him around the throat, bracing him in a headlock. The arm was certainly feeble enough that Luca would be able to fight off his attacker, were it not for the thick syringe that plunged into his neck.
As the needle sank into his flesh, Luca instantly felt his knees buckle and his entire weight give way. Within seconds, his limp, unconscious body melted out of the headlock and fell inside the door of the bedroom carriage.
Rather than pull the needle out, Doctor Cyclops simply let Luca’s body slide away from the syringe. With the back of his hand he wiped the drool from his bottom lip and ogled the beautiful, unconscious body slumped in front of him. With every muscle in his wiry frame, the doctor dragged Luca inside the car and kicked the door shut behind him.
The engine of the train was a large black beast, a classic locomotive engine with a pointed grill at the front like a giant spearhead, a huge cylindrical body, four large pistondriven wheels on each side, and a tall smokestack. Wisps of steam were already escaping from the stack.
Stealthily, Shane pulled himself up into the driver’s compartment. The back of it was open-ended, for easy access to the coal car. At the front of the driver’s compartment was a round sealed furnace door, perhaps five feet in diameter. Shane took an oily rag off a rail to one side and used it to spin the cast-iron wheel-handle in the middle of the furnace door. He could feel the heat seep through the rag, then felt the glow on his face as he opened the door and saw the long bed of bright orange embers inside the furnace. The engine was fed and the train ready to travel.
Suddenly Shane heard a footstep outside the driver’s compartment. He ducked low, crouching silently.
A hand appeared on the ladder railing leading up into the compartment. Someone was boarding the engine, and Shane wasn’t banking on a friendly greeting.
A second hand gripped the railing. Before the visitor could climb any higher, Shane leapt to his bare feet, swung around, and threw a kick, aiming for the head of whoever was on the ladder.
But the intruder was on the alert. One hand let go of the railing and grabbed Shane’s foot before it could make contact, then twisted it up and around, managing to knock Shane off balance and send him crashing to the compartment floor. He landed on his face with a grunt and a clang.
Instantly his hand went for the shovel next to his head. He heard the intruder jump up into the compartment. Shane seized the shovel, pulled himself to his feet, turned, and cut the air with the blunt flat blade.
Jake reeled backward, the shovel missing him by an inch. “Shane! It’s me! What the fuck are you trying to do, kill me?”
Shane dropped the shovel. “Jake! Jesus, you scared the shit outta me! What the hell are you doin’ creepin’ up on me like that?”
“What the hell are you wearing, is more the question!” Jake was looking Shane up and down, taking in the studdedleather codpiece and cowboy hat combo with a bemused look on his face.
“Ask Luca,” Shane said.
“Where is he?”
“Searchin’ the other end of the train. How did you find us?”
“I followed the Professor’s tracking device.”
“It’s not inside the Professor anymore. The bastards cut it out of him. You were following me and Luca. Jake, there’s a bomb. They’re gonna blow up Beijing.”
Out of the night, the
whump-whump-whump
of an incoming chopper filled the sky. Shane quickly looked outside and saw the light of a helicopter approaching. He turned to Jake. “I think we have company.”
Jake saw the chopper too. “You and me need to find a place to hide. Now.”
As they flew through the night over the squat concrete blocks and
hutongs
of Beijing and neared the terminal, Richard looked out the pilot’s side window and saw something unexpected. People were running through the streets, suitcases and children in hand. At first he thought it was some sort of street festival or parade, but it was happening in more than one street. And as he took the chopper lower he could see on the faces of the people not joy and excitement, but fear and panic.
He leaned over to the passenger seat of the chopper. “Chad, I think we need to pick up the pace.”
Richard gestured through the window and Chad peered out. “Get us down” was his only order. “Now!”
The tall weeds in the concrete yard were whipped and slashed by gusts of air as the chopper circled the Zhang Terminal before lining itself up for a perfect, if hurried, landing on the flatbed car of the Zhang Diamond Express.
“Out!” Chad ordered. “Everyone out! Xi, tie her down, then get this train moving!”
While the blades were still whirling, Mya unloaded the captives from the back of the chopper as Chad and Richard disembarked from the front. With her pistol in hand, Mya waved Will and Bradley off the flatbed car and onto the concrete ground of the terminal yard.
“Take them to the exhibition carriage,” Chad barked. He pointed directly at Will. “I want him kept separate from the old man. At least until we’re on our way.”
Mya climbed the short ladder leading up to the landing at the rear of the fourth car and opened the door, waving Will and Bradley inside with her pistol. Once inside, she quickly paced the room, lighting several antique gas lanterns attached to the walls. Soon they were bathed in the plush red of the carriage. Red carpets, red wallpaper, red curtains. Even the many diamond-filled glass-topped display cabinets around the carriage were a rich red oak. In the middle of the room, in a glass display case all to itself—
“The Eye of Fucanglong,” Bradley breathed.
For a moment he stared at the giant, bedazzling jewel. Then he quickly tore his eyes away.
Mya saw him and began laughing. “You superstitious fool! You honestly believe the curse is real?”
“Look what it’s done to you,” Bradley replied calmly. “All of you.”
Mya pouted mockingly. “Poor little Bradley. Always the honest one. Always so naïve. Always the last to catch on. Chad was right: when it comes to business, a gay boy is no match for a real man. You should have stayed out of the boardroom. You never should have hung up your pretty white skates. Look where it’s got you now.”
“I gave up skating because I wanted to make my uncle proud.”
“By bringing shame upon his name with your perverted desires? By making him feel obliged to hand you a career, a future, when all you did was embarrass and disappoint him?”
“I never once did anything to shame him. I am who I am. I worked as hard as I could to bring him honor.”
“Obviously you didn’t work hard enough.”
Will suddenly interjected in a low, serious tone, “Don’t listen to her, Bradley.”
The butt of the diamond-studded gun struck Will hard across the face. Will’s head reeled from the blow, then returned to face front. Giddy-eyed, he licked at the fresh blood on his bottom lip. “Jesus, you’re a bitch,” he said.
“Consider it payback for the Moët bottle.”
Mya turned and stepped up to the display case in the center of the room. The anger and cruelty in her eyes slowly slipped away, making way for a sort of spellbound awe as she set her gaze upon the Eye of Fucanglong. “If you want to believe in childish tales of witches and dragons, then go ahead. All I believe in is money. This diamond is worth more than a fortune. It’s the price of the future. It will bring about chaos, then herald a new world.” Her gaze became more trancelike at the thought, her eyes unblinking, locked on the diamond. “I suppose one part of the legend is true, though. When the first zidium device detonates, Fucanglong will indeed burst from the mountain in a terrible explosion of fire and smoke. And after that—” Mya finished her sentence with a smile.
Once Xi had secured the chopper, he made his way promptly to the engine of the train.
At the same time, Richard and Chad boarded the third car, the master carriage. They stepped inside and saw Sen and the Professor tied to their chairs, the Professor now waking and wincing.
“Where the fuck is Cyclops?” Chad demanded of his captives, his eyes scanning the car.
“How should we know?” Sen answered angrily, glancing back and forth between the slowly rousing Professor and Chad.
“Watch them!” Chad said to Richard. He stormed through the car, departed through the rear door, and crossed a connecting walkway into the exhibition carriage.
“Your doctor’s gone missing,” he hissed at Mya, walking straight past the gun-packing woman and her two captives. He exited through the rear door of the exhibition carriage, crossed another connecting walkway, and pushed open the door to the fifth car, the bedroom carriage.
He stopped in his stride.
The bedroom carriage was precisely that, a large suite with a four-poster bed in the middle of it. Plush, pristine, elegant. At least it was—until the drunk, psychotic Doctor Cyclops had taken the liberty of transforming the car into his own private chamber. A torture chamber.