by K. J. Howe
In the morning, Johann’s mind felt sharper. He’d slept like the dead, bone-weary after the insanity of the past few days. With any luck, he’d be handing over the bioweapon to a responsible adult soon and be free of this monumental burden. He glanced at his watch. He’d call Thea Paris right after breakfast.
A subtle slowing of the train told him they’d be approaching the next station shortly. Fatima smiled at him when his stomach growled loudly.
“How about I buy us some food while you freshen up?” His hand rested on the door handle. He wanted to give her some privacy.
“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.”
“More like starved and self-motivated.”
Fatima searched his face. “You okay?”
Last night had been an oasis, allowing him to forget his challenges for a few hours, but her question brought him back to reality. “There’s no going back now.”
“Maybe this will be a wake-up call for your father.”
“Vater never regrets his decisions,” Johann said, taking his hand off the knob. “And no matter what happens, I don’t regret mine. It’s bad enough—the refugee camps, the conditions people suffer when they’re looking for a better life. But this bacteria . . .”
Fatima smiled wide. “I adore you and your warm heart, Johann Dietrich.”
He felt himself blush. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll gladly bring you breakfast every day.”
She laughed. “Let’s start with today. Hurry up, I’m starving.”
“Lock the door.”
“Yes, sir.”
Johann stepped into the corridor, closed the door, and headed for the buffet car. The train decelerated noticeably, the engineer announcing the next stop. He ordered four croissants with butter and jam along with two coffees. While he waited for their food, he gazed out the window at the snow-covered countryside. Picturesque. Too bad this isn’t a holiday.
The brakes squealed, protesting, as the train ground to a stop at the station. A smattering of people waited on the platform. Teenagers, businessmen, young mothers, a few elderly folks. He scrutinized the passengers as they boarded. No one seemed unusual or out of place.
The steward was filling the two coffee cups for his order when Johann noticed the stranger enter the far end of the buffet car. Dressed in a charcoal suit and a crisp white shirt, he looked like an average businessman, his craggy face banal—but as the man twisted to let a passenger past, Johann recognized him as one of the lackeys who had been present at the Freiheitswächter meetings. Which meant that the man would recognize Johann too.
Johann left the coffees and croissants sitting on the counter and rushed back to their compartment before the man in the gray suit spotted him.
Chapter 77
Johann rapped his knuckles on the sleeper door in a prearranged rhythm. Fatima welcomed him inside. Fully dressed, her head scarf back on, she smiled at him. “Where’s breakfast?”
“One of the Freiheitswächter just boarded. We need to get off.”
Panic clouded her face. “Someone you know? Did he recognize you?”
“I’m sure I’ve seen him with my father before. And it looked like he was wearing one of these.” He reached into the pocket where he kept the medallion Vater had given him and showed it to her.
“Nice enough, if you don’t know what it stands for.” Fatima shoved her belongings inside her tote bag and slipped one of the backpacks around her shoulders. “I’m ready.”
Johann grabbed the second backpack. The train whistle blew. They had missed their chance to get off the train before it left the station. He cracked open the door and peered down the corridor. The man in the suit was showing the steward a photo. He couldn’t hear what the man was saying, but he hoped the Freiheitswächter was only looking for him and not Fatima.
He passed her the backpack he had been holding. The canisters were awkward to carry but not very heavy. “The man is to our right. We need to split up. Take the canisters, and head for the back of the train. If he follows you, hide in the cargo hold. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I don’t like this, Johann.”
He cradled Fatima’s face in his hands and kissed her gently. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. And we need to make sure this stuff winds up in safe hands. You have Thea Paris’s number, just in case?”
The train lurched forward.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there soon. Hurry.”
“Be careful.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure Vater told him not to hurt me.”
Fatima raised her eyebrows, a skeptical look on her face. “Are you sure? You’re ruining your father’s grand plan, years in the making.”
Johann wondered if Fatima had a point. Look what had happened to Uncle Karl.
Chapter 78
Johann stared through the peephole after Fatima left the cabin. The train had started moving again. If the Freiheitswächter followed Fatima, he would pursue the man, find a way to distract him. But for ten minutes, no one passed their sleeping compartment. Still, given that the man had spoken to the steward, he couldn’t stay where he was. And with the train nearing full speed, he couldn’t exactly jump out the window, either.
Johann cracked open the door and looked to the right. The man in the charcoal suit was long gone, along with the steward. He glanced to the left. No one. He slipped out, staying close to the wall, conscious of the jounce and sway of the car beneath his feet.
The doors to the next carriage opened. He sucked in a deep breath. An older woman dressed in tweed stepped inside. She smiled. Johann returned her greeting, exhaling with relief. He needed to walk through at least ten cars to get to the cargo car. He was about to pull open the doors leading to the next car and step through when a flash of gray caught his eye. The Freiheitswächter was in the next carriage.
Dammit, how did he get past me without me seeing him? He backed away from the window.
Johann texted Fatima: Coming as soon as I can.
She responded immediately: Hiding in the freight area. All clear.
Thank goodness she’d made it. He slipped on the leather gloves and wool cap he’d stashed in his jacket pocket. He glanced around. Now or never. He pressed the red button that opened the door to the next car. A soft warning beep sounded. He exited quickly, silencing the alarm.
A blast of cold air buffeted him between the cars. His gloved fingers locked around the steel safety bar, gripping it tightly. The train bulleted down the tracks through the snowy countryside, his eyes watering from the frigid temperatures. And it would only get colder up top.
Taking a breath, he swung his lanky frame from the platform between the cars onto the maintenance ladder leading to the roof. He climbed the rungs slowly, all the muscles in his arms fully engaged. A strong gust of wind threatened to fling him loose, sending his right leg off its rung and in front of the window of the carriage. In a panic, he fought to get his footing back, resting for a moment once he’d secured his shoe back on the rung.
His concern now was whether anyone had seen his leg in the window. Either way, he needed to get a move on. He tackled the final two steps, then collapsed on top of the carriage, staying under the steady stream of wind as much as possible. He wormed his way forward so he had a handhold. He took a moment to catch his breath.
The hardest part was over—at least he thought so. Then he glanced up. Two electrical wires hung parallel to the carriage. He’d forgotten that this brand of train relied on electricity. Avoiding the wires meant he’d need to stay directly in the middle of the carriage.
Here goes nothing. He edged his knees forward, preparing to stand. Before he could lift himself up, a faint sound drew his attention. He glanced back over the edge of the car.
The man in the gray suit was scaling the ladder.
Scheisse. Johann climbed to his feet, stabilizing himself. The wind billowed his clothes around his body, fabric flapping wildly. He stood dead center, avoiding the wires, slowly
getting the feel of the wind resistance. Finding his balance, he ran to the end of the carriage. One quick jump, and he launched himself onto the next one. At least ten carriages stretched ahead.
A quick glance behind—the Freiheitswächter had already climbed the ladder. Compact and muscular, the suited man looked more than capable of catching him before he reached the end of the train. Johann looked ahead, searching for the freight car, where Fatima waited.
A chill ran through his body: about a mile ahead and approaching fast, a tunnel yawned like a great hungry mouth.
Chapter 79
Johann sprinted along the train’s roof, hopping from one carriage to the next as fast as he could. A quick check over his shoulder—the distance between him and his pursuer was shrinking.
The train raced toward the tunnel.
A hundred feet away.
Fifty, and closing.
Every tunnel had a different clearance, but they were all mandated to have at least nine feet. Seconds after the train entered the tunnel’s abyss, Johann dove forward onto his stomach, knowing the Freiheitswächter wouldn’t be able to see him in the dark.
The overwhelming blackness of the tunnel swallowed him whole, the sound of the blustering wind replaced by the thunderous rattle of the train in the enclosed space. Wet, dank air flooded his sinuses. Beneath him, the cold of the train’s steel roof penetrated his jacket. He rolled onto his back and raised his legs, the soles of his feet facing the direction of his pursuer. Coiling his knees close to his stomach, he waited.
Footsteps pounded closer, closer. The shadow was almost upon him. Johann unleashed his legs, his feet colliding with hard muscle. Umph. The impact sent Johann skidding backward on the roof, but he had the benefit of a lower center of gravity and a solid base, so he didn’t go far.
Surprised by Johann’s kick, the Freiheitswächter launched up and sideways, wheeling his arms around as he tried to regain his balance, before stumbling into the pantograph wires. A massive spray of electricity lit up the tunnel, sparks cascading in a dazzling display of pyrotechnics as the man spun from the contact.
Darkness became light when the live wires connected with the man’s torso, completing the circuit from train to wire. Every muscle in the stranger’s body convulsed, flinging him to the edge of the car, where he struggled for a second before tumbling off, all sound lost in the roar of the tunnel.
Johann lay there, shaken. He had just killed a man.
Seconds later, the train rocketed back into daylight, leaving the tunnel behind. Hands trembling, Johann scrambled to his feet and rushed forward to reach the freight car. He’d been able to neutralize the immediate threat, but the man had surely notified his father that Johann was on the train. And was he the only Freiheitswächter on board?
The next station approached in the distance. He needed to find Fatima and get off the train. They’d have to find another way to Istanbul.
Chapter 80
Thea tapped the keys of her laptop, scanning her e-mails for updates. Ayan and Jabari hadn’t called back. Prospero had probably caught them, and she worried that he would punish them for their escape attempt. In group captivity scenarios, when someone attempts a breakout, they are often beaten, sometimes even executed. A powerful lesson for the other hostages.
In this case, Thea was pretty sure Prospero would keep them alive—he knew that the boys were his greatest leverage. Still, he’d have to do something to reestablish control after the escape, and the easiest way to do that was through fear.
Her phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts.
“Paris.”
“I have that young man calling again.” Hakan sounded spent. She doubted he’d slept more than a few hours since the hijacking.
“Okay, patch him through.” She inhaled deeply and waited for Hakan to connect her with this anonymous and persistent young man. A click sounded as he was routed to her.
“Thea Paris speaking.”
“What’s your dog’s name?”
“Who is this?” she asked.
“Please, just answer the question.”
“Aegis.” It wasn’t a state secret.
“And your mother’s name?”
“Tatiana. What’s this about?” The kid had read too many spy novels.
“I wanted to be sure I was talking to the real Thea Paris.”
“If I were any kind of serious impostor, neither of those questions would have made me break a sweat. But now it’s my turn to ask a question. Who’s calling?”
“My name is Johann Dietrich. I’m from Salzburg, Austria.”
“How old are you, Johann?”
“Seventeen.” His voice cracked.
“Hakan Asker, the man you’ve been talking to at Quantum, says you know something about the hijacking of the jet in Libya.”
“I know that Vater was angry the plane had been taken.”
“Your father?”
“Gernot Dietrich. He owns Dietrich Arms Manufacturing.”
She’d heard of them, a successful weapons manufacturer that supplied the US Army, among many others. He had been part of Nikos’s world.
“I overheard Vater saying the Italians must have hijacked the plane.”
Interesting. “How is your father involved in this?”
“He knows a woman who was on board.”
“Ocean?”
“I think so. I overheard them talking about her being important. She’s a scientist of some sort.”
The earnest voice, the solid information—she sensed that he was genuine. “Do you have other information about the hijacking?”
“No. That’s not why I’m calling.” She heard him take a long breath. “I need your help.”
“I see. What kind of help, exactly?”
“Could you meet me in Istanbul? It’s important.”
“That’s quite an ask from someone I’ve only just met,” Thea said with a soft laugh. “Look, I’m in the midst of trying to negotiate the release of the hostages from that jet. But I could have an associate meet you, someone I trust.”
“What if I told you this was about a biological weapons attack?”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to go into details on the phone.”
“This is a secure line,” Thea said, thinking fast. “If you really want my help, you’re going to have to give me more.”
The words came out of the boy in a rush. “My father wants to release a genetically targeted weapon inside several refugee camps throughout Europe.”
Her pulse accelerated. “What kind of bioweapon?”
“Pneumonic plague, targeted specifically to people of Arab descent.”
Her mind reeled. It would spread like wildfire in the crowded conditions of the camps. “Do you know the locations he’s targeting? We can get people in place, stop the attacks.”
“I have the plague in my backpack.”
“What?”
“In sealed containers. I stole it from him.”
“Where are you now?”
“Headed to Istanbul with my girlfriend, Fatima Abboud. She has a cousin who is a scientist.”
“You can’t just walk around with a biological weapon. What if it gets into the wrong hands?”
“That’s why I called you. I’ll give the canisters to you or Fatima’s cousin, but no one else.”
“When will you reach Istanbul?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll be there. Give me your number. I’ll call as soon as I arrive to set up a meet.”
“Okay.” He rattled off the digits of his burner cell.
“And send me your photo so I know what you look like.” Hakan could run a full background check on Johann and his father before the meet.
“I’m hard to miss, built like a tall string bean.” He paused, then plunged on awkwardly. “I have Marfan syndrome.”
Thea immediately felt for the kid. “Well, you’re talking to someone who’s tethe
red to an insulin pump as we speak.”
“Diabetes?”
“Type 1.” It felt good not to be so guarded about her condition.
“Do you miss chocolate? I don’t know if I could survive that . . .”
“I can enjoy a small piece now and then,” she said, smiling. “Johann?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“I will, Thea. Thank you. See you soon.”
Chapter 81
Johann felt better after talking to Thea, but the feeling didn’t last long. Vater had nearly caught them once, and the next attempt wouldn’t be far off. The sight of the man in the gray suit slipping off the train car in the dim light of the tunnel still haunted him.
He and Fatima had walked more than five kilometers after leaving the train in Romania. Googling their location, he’d found a nearby truck stop. They planned to hitch a ride with a long-haul driver to conserve their funds and to make it more difficult to track them.
Johann shifted the two backpacks slung on his shoulder. The straps digging into his muscles were a constant and painful reminder of the gravity of the situation.
“You sure you’re okay?” Fatima asked.
“Just thinking about our next move.” He’d told Fatima about the chase along the train roof but hadn’t shared details of the man’s death. Johann wanted to protect her from all the horrors he’d witnessed; she had an innocence about her that he loved. He didn’t want her to change, to become cynical like him. Years of being bullied had shaped his dark outlook.
“What if none of the truckers will take us?” she asked.
“We’ll find one. We’re paying passengers.” The bulge of notes in his pocket both comforted and unsettled him. They had more than enough money, but they could easily be robbed. Switching from the rail system to the highway made them a lot less safe.
The sun had disappeared from the sky, dusk nestling in. The neon lights of the roadside café lay ahead. Several eighteen-wheelers were sandwiched together in the large parking area, and the scent of diesel fuel made his head swim. He didn’t know when it had happened, but he and Fatima were holding hands as they walked across the lot.