The Trail Boss decided to make contact with the deputy wagon-master. He had to tell him Brickman had gone native, and that he and a clear-skinned Mute were running wild in the forward command car. That news had to be gotten back to Grand Central fast –
The decision was never implemented – and the key-card was never taken out of the slot.
There was a sudden burst of firing to his left. Three unarmed Blazer technicians staggered backwards into the corridor from the passageway to the next wagon. McDonnell spun away from the cell door, around the corner of the passageway and onto the down flight of stairs to get out of the line of fire. As the techs fell dying to the floor, a howling Mute exploded through the doorway, rifle held high.
McDonnell brought him down with a triple head shot. Deciding the extra firepower would come in handy he reached for the fallen rifle but before he was able to pull the barrel from under the warrior’s body, he glimpsed a movement on the stairs below him right at the edge of his vision. Without letting go of the rifle, he aimed his pistol blindly and fired volley after volley –
Chu-wii, chu-wii, chu-wii, chu-wii, chu-wiii!
The needlepoint rounds sliced into the warrior’s body, knocking him back against the wall. But they did not kill him before he fired his cross-bow. As McDonnell got a one-handed grip on the rifle and brought it to bear on the warriors now surging through the doorway, the bolt shot upwards between the stair rails and struck the exposed right-hand side of his throat, pinning his tongue to the roof of his mouth on its way through his brain.
The impact caused his fingers to tighten round both triggers, killing a second Mute on the stairway below and the first man through the doorway above.
In the seconds before McDonnell’s death, Lt. Commander Cooper, the deputy wagon-master had also perished. The rear command car had been specially targeted, and as the ramps came down, a hand-picked posse of Mutes armed with Tracker rifles burst from their hiding places in the ground and stormed onto the lower floor.
The crew, who were still recovering from the impact of the disabling explosions and confused by the evacuation order, proved easy meat. Moving ahead of their leader, Spandau-Barry, six Bears shot their way up onto the second floor, then the top, clearing the way to the saddle with a continuous stream of fire as Spandau-Barry bounded up the steps with an AP108 mine in each hand.
Cooper and the saddle staff of the rear command car – among them Betty-Jo Aarons – were already reaching for the available weapons as the screaming, wide-eyed Mute warrior burst into view.
They were too late. His outstretched hands were already coming together as the first rounds from several hand-guns struck home.
Time slowed, and in the instant before death overtook them, they saw with horrifying clarity that the pressure-sensitive fuses of the AP108’s he held were about to impact on one another. As some tried to dive for cover and others stood frozen to the spot, the top half of the Mute’s body disappeared in a blinding sheet of flame and –
From the trees to the south of the rear command car, from the twin rivers and both flanks, the rest of the M’Call clan burst forth and rushed across the open ground towards the stricken wagon-train. The side guns which had fired at the Bears pretending to pursue Steve, Cadillac and the other disguised riders had fallen silent. The danger – and it was considerable – came from the six arrowheads that had swept away towards the west and were now returning.
In the short interval between the first explosions and Spandau-Barry’s kamikaze mission, the deputy wagon-master had succeeded in getting a message to the airborne patrol, telling them the wagon-train had come under attack.
The command staff aboard Red River were also listening out on the same channel. While Wallis passed the news back to the White House, Fargo had made repeated attempts to contact Hartmann but so far there had been no reply. And now Cooper had gone off the air.
In the same short span of time that encompassed the death of McDonnell and the staff of the rear command car, the hand-to-hand fighting continued throughout the length of the train and at the front end a posse of Mutes stood ready to repulse any counter-attack on the command car.
Up in the saddle, among the litter of dead bodies, Steve sat slumped in Hartmann’s seat, his head in his hands while Cadillac rummaged through the racks of drawers under the table section of the main video-screen console. Eventually he found what he was looking for – a batch of cassettes labelled with the name of the dead wagon-master, the daily record of his radio conversation with Red River and CINC-TRAIN.
‘The bastards,’ muttered Steve. He raised his fists and bared his teeth at the ceiling. ‘The BASTARDS! Oh, Roz! How could you let them DO this?!’
Cadillac, who was listening to the play-back of Hartmann’s voice through a light-weight head-set, lifted one of the ear-pieces. ‘Do what?’
Steve swore violently. ‘Don’t you realise what’s happened?! This isn’t Red River! This is the Lady from Louisiana!’
His partner swivelled round to face him. ‘But the letters – the insignia – the aircraft –’
‘All faked!’ cried Steve. ‘Just like we’ve been pretending that Malone was still alive! Roz and Clearwater aren’t ON this train!’
‘Calm down!’
Before leaving Big Fork, Cadillac had entrusted Blue-Thunder with the delicate task of storming the blood-wagon. His orders were to seize and hold everyone they found until Steve and Cadillac arrived on the scene. Only those who refused to surrender were to be killed. The assault was still in its infancy. Less than ten minutes had elapsed since boarding the train and Brickman, the super-hero, was losing his grip.
Hahh, If only Clearwater could see her Golden One now…
‘There’s no need to go overboard. We haven’t even looked for her yet!’
‘I don’t NEED to look!’ shouted Steve. He swept a hand over the bodies lying around the saddle. ‘I KNOW these people!’
‘And there’s no possibility they could have been transferred?’
‘One or two perhaps, but not the whole fucking crew! Whassa matter – you dumb or somethin’?! We’ve been shafted! The M’Calls are making an empty sacrifice! Your people are dying for nothing!’
To vent his anger, Steve attacked the video screens and the control panel on Hartmann’s console with the butt of his carbine. ‘What the fuck are we gonna do?!’ He glared across at Cadillac.
The Mute had turned back to the main console and was concentrating on the voice coming through his headset. Steve leapt out of Hartmann’s chair, strode over to the main console and shot out several of the screens. ‘ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!!’
Cadillac eyed him calmly then removed the headset and stopped the tape. ‘No. I’m listening to Hartmann. I take it he is the commander of this wagon-train.’
‘Yeah.’ Steve regained a measure of self-control. ‘The Lady from Louisiana …’
‘And this man Fargo I’ve heard you mention. He’s in charge of Red River?’
‘Yeah. And Wallis is the head of the AMEXICO team – but it’s called the White House task force. I can see how they did it now. Wallis handled the communications with us and kept Fargo in the picture. And Fargo and Hartmann must have been working in concert, sharing the same radio channels. We thought we were dealing with Red River but it was The Lady – in disguise – that was making the moves!’
‘So where is Red River?’
‘How the hell do I know?’ cried Steve. ‘It’s Karlstrom who’s behind all this! Slimy sonofabitch!’ He banged the butt of his carbine on the table. ‘Why the hell didn’t Roz tell us what was going on?!’
‘Maybe she didn’t know. If Karlstrom has gone to this much trouble maybe he let the people on board Red River think they were going to be attacked – to fool Roz and prevent her from warning you.’
‘Yeah, maybe …’ Steve rubbed his face wearily. ‘Nyehh, what the hell … doesn’t really matter. I’ve blown it. Not just for you and the M’Calls, but for Roz, Clearwater … everything!’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Cadillac. ‘We might still be able to salvage something from the wreckage. I think it’s time your masters heard what a good job you’re doing – helping to defend this wagon-train.’
‘You mean –?’
‘Yes. I’m going to pretend to be Hartmann and Malone. If they ask to speak to you, try not to give the game away. Just tell them everything is going splendidly.’
Steve eyed him. ‘You’ve got a fucking nerve …’
‘Well, at the moment, it’s certainly holding up better than yours.’ Cadillac rose to his feet.
‘Wonder what’s happened to Mr Snow?’
‘Never mind about that! The Old One can look after himself! Just show me how to work the radio. Can we alter the quality – y’know with that crackling noise you get? I don’t want it sounding too clear.’
‘Jeezuss! Any more requests?! I’m not a Comm-Tech, y’know! Just count yourself lucky I know how to switch the thing on!’ Steve looked around the saddle and got his bearings. ‘C’mon, it’s over here. Let’s hope it’s still working …’
Roz came through. It was like a cool, calming hand on his brow. Too late, little sister. TOO LATE …!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At 0530 Standard Time, fifteen minutes after the initial explosions had crippledd The Lady, Karlstrom passed through the turnstile into the Oval Office. The President-General, summoned from his bed by the first news of the assault, was – as always – impeccably groomed and exuded the businesslike air of a man who had been at work for hours.
He greeted Karlstom by the ’stile. ‘I can’t believe this is happening, Ben. Hartmann must be the unluckiest man alive.’
‘Either that or the dumbest. Never mind. Perhaps it’ll teach the wagon-train division not to back a loser. Have you seen the map projections showing our units and where this is taking place?’
The P-G nodded. ‘While I was dressing.’ He steered Karlstrom over to the chair facing the desk then seated himself behind it.
‘We’ve had two messages from Hartmann, and Wallis, my task-force leader, has spoken with Malone. He and Brickman made it to the train but the rest of the team didn’t make it. Red River received a report from the deputy wagon-master about some shooting incident on the ramp. He also said he’d lost touch with Hartmann. Since when he’s gone off the air and Hartmann’s come through saying he’s lost contact with the rear command car.
‘Sounds very confusing …’
‘It is. Here’s the situation. Shortly after Malone and Brickman arrived, there was a series of explosions which immobilized the train, cut the power to the guns and caused a systems failure which lowered all the ramps. You can imagine the situation.’
‘Christo! I didn’t realize they were that easy to crack.’
‘I don’t think anybody did.’
‘But can’t Hartmann raise the ramps?’
‘Not without mains power. It’s a major flaw in the operating system. The designers never envisaged a simultananeous breakdown in both power cars.’
‘No …,’ mused the P-G. ‘And of course the umbilicals are on the outside of the train.’
‘That’s right. They’re in protective trunking which up to now have been invulnerable but –’
‘Not to explosives …’
‘No. It’s something CINC-TRAIN’s going to have to get on top of pretty fast. Anyway – that was when the Mutes attacked.’
‘Which Mutes are these? The last air reports put the M’Calls several miles to the west of Malone’s party.’
‘That’s right,’ said Karlstrom. ‘CINC-TRAIN is still trying to sort that one out. This may be the work of another clan – perhaps more than one. Brickman did warn us that the She-Kargo had agreed to support one another following the defeat of the Iron Masters at the trading post.’
‘Is that where they got the explosives from?’
Karlstrom had been prepared for this one. ‘It seems the most likely source. The big wheel-boats carry upwards of sixty cannon.’
‘But it would still need expert knowledge to disable a wagon-train. So who – Cadillac?’
Karlstrom nodded. ‘He wired the bombs that blew The Lady apart last year. We have to assume he lifted the information he needed about the train out of Brickman’s head. That Mute has some extraordinary capabilities. Jodi Kazan, for instance, told us he left Ne-Issan able to read and speak fluent Japanese – without a single lesson!’
‘And what else, I wonder …?’
Karlstrom moved the conversation on. ‘The how and why can wait till the post-mortem. The important thing is to help Hartmann turn this situation around.’
‘Agreed …’
‘Thing’s aren’t too good but the situation is recoverable. Hartmann has an unconfirmed report of an internal explosion in the rear command car and that’s been sealed off. The Mutes control the ground under the wagon-train and now hold most of the lower floor and the middle floor of some wagons.
‘Hartmann’s battalion is holding the flight car and blood-wagon, the power cars, most of the middle floors and the entire top floor – except at the rear. That includes the flight-deck and the roof of the train. It’s a little iffy, but it’s still possible to get a plane off and land-on.’
‘What’s happened to the air component?’
‘There were six planes in the air when the Mutes hit the train. Three were on their way back after making strafing runs on the columns of Mutes moving in from the west. They handed the job over to the second flight – which meant that when the Mutes made their assault on the train, the only planes in the air had no ordnance and empty guns!
‘The Lady told them to divert to Red River and recalled the second flight but by the time they arrived overhead, most of the Mutes were either on or under the train. The power loss interrupted communications for a while and now most of the Comm-Techs on the command staff are engaged in defending the command car so apart from Hartmann there’s been no one to handle the radio traffic.
‘The second flight have been circling the train but have hesitated to attack it. Their guns are no good against the Mutes already inside and they don’t want to use what napalm they have while there’s a whole battalion of Blazers on board.’
‘That’s understandable. What about our other units?’
‘They’re moving into position.’
‘Has Hartmann requested any specific type of assistance?’
‘Yes, he has.’ Karlstrom shifted uneasily on his chair as he came to the difficult bit. ‘The Mutes have brought a summoner on board.’
‘Mr Snow …?’
Karlstrom threw up his hands. ‘Can’t say – but whoever it is, is making life very difficult. Our boys are battling against gale-force winds gusting down the passageways and they’re being bombarded with seats, helmets, air-bottles, hatch-covers – you name it. The bastard is levitating everything that’s not screwed down and turning it into a missile!’
‘So what does he propose?’
‘He’s asked for Roz Brickman to be flown over from Red River so that she can, well – use her powers against whoever’s doing this. He says if they don’t nail this guy they may lose the train.’
‘Mmmm …’ The President-General turned his attention to his right hand, drummed a brief rhythmic tattoo on the top of his immaculate desk then fixed Karlstrom with a penetrating stare. ‘And how do you feel about that?’
‘It’s why we put her on board Red River. Clearwater’s given no trouble.’
‘True. But that may be due to her injuries. Do you really think she could handle someone like Mr Snow?’
Karlstrom shrugged. ‘We won’t know that until we try.’
‘And we could end up losing her and the train …’
‘There is that risk, yes.’
‘And we also have to think about what Clearwater might do if Roz wasn’t around. I’d hate anything to happen to Red River.’
‘I know how we can cover that. I think we should transfer Roz to The Lady
– but only after Brickman and Malone have flown to Red River. That leaves us with one bird in the hand and it gives us leverage against Clearwater. She won’t do anything that’ll put her boyfriend in danger.’
The P-G nodded. ‘That’s good. Well done, Ben.’
Karlstrom smiled. ‘Yeah, I think it’s rather neat. But we’ll have to move fast if we’re going to turn this situation around. Can I take it I have your approval to make the transfer?’
Jefferson gazed at him for a moment then spread his hands. ‘You’re the head of AMEXICO, Ben. She’s part of the team you sent out to Red River so … I guess that makes it your decision.’
Karlstrom jumped to his feet as the P-G levered himself out of his chair. ‘Yes.’
And it’s your ass that’s on the line, Ben, ole buddy …
There was nothing else to say.
‘Keep me posted as things develop.’ Jefferson broke off eye-contact, leant towards his video-console and pressed the key which brought the head and shoulders of his senior private secretary onto one of the screens. ‘Nancy – could you come in for a moment?’
‘Yessir!’
Jefferson turned away to admire the computer-generated sea and cloudscape projected onto the screens outside the curving window of the Oval Office. One of the P-G’s favourite places: Cape Cod.
Karlstrom, who could read the signs, let himself out through the turnstile as Nancy came in.
Leaving Cadillac to handle the fake radio traffic, Steve poled down to the bottom floor of the command car. Picking up a quartet of Mute warriors – to avoid getting killed by mistake – he went down the ramp and aft under the belly of the train to look for Mr Snow and Jodi Kazan.
Near the foot of the original entry ramp he found the bodies of Cat-Ballou, Purple-Rain, Diamond-Head and Lethal-Weapon. None of the other uniformed corpses belonged to Mr Snow. And Jodi wasn’t there either.
With his escort boxed around him, Steve went up the ramp and into the train. Scattered pockets of Trail-Blazers were holding out on all floors throughout the length of the train but contrary to what Karlstrom had been told, the flight car and blood-wagon had both fallen to the M’Calls.
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