Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (6 page)

“So why do we need the signal thing at all?”

“Because those trains travel very fast and finding a spot in the forest where there’s enough visibility for them to actually stop in time would be very difficult. Especially a spot that fulfils all your other requirements – access for vehicles, well away from civilisation and army bases and so on. Being near signals will further limit your choices, so it’s certain to result in a gentle sort of derailment.”

“Then we’ll decide about that when we can judge how gentle the derailment would really be,” said Bane.

Everyone nodded agreement.

“So now we’ve a rough idea how to do it,” Bane went on, “
where
are we going to do it?”

“I suggest the Milan region,” said Francesco. “If you want to take full advantage of your advisors.”

“Surely it’s going to depend mostly on where trains full of nonLees are actually to be found?”

“
Si
, but there’s a factory partway between Milan and Bologna. Most of the nonLees bound for the rest of Europe go over the Alps via Milan.”

“That sounds promising, then. Y’know, I bet the guards on trains carrying nonLees are careless as. Have you guys ever bothered them?”

“Nah. We may have taken pot shots at the guards now and then just for the hell of it. But we’ve never made them the subject of a full scale raid. Why’d we want to?”

“Good. They may be a lot slower to realise what’s going on. Anyway, Carla, you said you brought some useful stuff?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carla opened the tough zip up folder in front of her and began to put things on the table. “Here, copy of the notification about the emergency signal. Plans of the commonest types of munitions trains. Resistance pamphlet on blowing tracks, though I reckon you don’t

need that.” She looked pointedly at Father Mark.

“Good,” said Bane again. “Let’s get stuck in, then.”

***+***

5

THE TRAIN

Clouds hung heavy with rain overhead and the night was dark. With the trees looming around and the train tracks failing to gleam in front, there was a slight feeling of déjà-vu.

Everything was different, though. I held a fully charged nonLee and wore the bulletproof vest Bane and Eduardo had forced me into – it felt much like wearing an ancient corset. ‘Why me?’ I’d protested, since there weren’t any more, but they’d ignored me. Nasty feeling it might be the Holy Father’s spare, or something.

Silent and resigned, Jon had stayed in the Citadel. Carla and Francesco were with him – safer for the train guards if not for Jon. Avoided known Resistance members being caught with us if this all went pear-shaped, more importantly.

Pear-shaped
. My hands were shaking. I wrapped them more tightly around the butt of the nonLee. The plan was sound. Father Mark thought so. Carla thought so. Francesco thought so. Eduardo thought so. And Bane thought so. I thought so too.

All along the hundred metres of track before the signals lay our team, two by two, over half of them unarmed – Eduardo could only spare ten nonLees. Those lying where the front and rear carriages should stop had the guns, but the others all had their jobs.

My mouth was going dry. My hands still shook. Bane lay there beside me in the blackness. Despite agreeing in principle, he’d refused point blank to allow me to come unless my hormones had settled down. But I’d managed four days now without bursting into tears or throwing myself at Carla’s throat, so here I was.

A dark shape suddenly sprang up from where it’d been using a non-electric rail as a pillow and ran up the opposite slope, lay down and was magically absorbed by the deep shadows.

“Little Lion can hear a moth,” came Father Mark’s voice on my earpiece.

The train was coming.

“Postmen, the package is in the post,” murmured Bane into his little radio mic. “Postmen, last check. Cuckoo,” he finished, saying his code name to confirm his own readiness.

“Brown Bird,” I said. “Command, check.” Not that I was command, that was Bane.

“Trout,” the Swiss Guard several metres to my left said through my earpiece, and his partner immediately followed with, “Salmon. Fish, check.”

“Hippo.”

“Alligator. Aquatics, check.” That was Jack...

“Gecko.” And that was Kyle...

“Grass snake. Reptiles, check.”

“Pussycat.”

“Gerbil. Pets, check.”

“Fox One.”

“Fox Two. Foxes, check”

“Hyena.”

“Little Lion. Meat Eaters, check.” Father Mark, of course.

“Giraffe.”

“Elephant. African, check.”

“Snail.” Jacques...

“Bumblebee. Bugs, check.”

“Dove.”

“Pigeon. Birds, check.”

“All postmen…” A cough from the thing in my ear. Probably Pussycat, aka Sister Krayj. “All post
persons
ready,” murmured Bane dryly, though he’d been merciless in drilling the quips off the airwaves – all the commands were phrased humorously instead. “Postal service, final check.”

The drivers – Stamp, Letter, Envelope, Frank, Airmail and Boyracer – all signed in. The trucks were waiting only a very short distance into the forest.

“Postal service ready,” confirmed Bane. “Pay attention, everyone, this is it. Sorting office, ready?”

“Red, check.”

“Green, check.”

The train was audible now, over the sound of the wind in the trees.

“Okay, Red and Green, get sorting.”

With perfect coordination the signal glowing green above us in the darkness disappeared and a flashing red and green one materialised, just a fraction to its left.

The train was approaching; any moment now it would come around that bend and see that fake signal. We’d decided against Carla’s idea of a ‘gentle’ derailment, so if they didn’t stop, it was over.

A moment ago I’d been shivering with cold from lying here so long, now my hands were slippery with sweat. I clicked off the safety catch and drew slow, deep breaths to keep my concentration.
Lord, don’t let me miss
...

There
… Light blazed as the train came into sight. I squeezed my eyes mostly shut. Nearer, nearer… oh, Lord, no, it wasn’t stopping…

Screech
. Ear-splittingly, the brakes engaged. Thank God – they’d just been too half asleep to immediately notice something so extraordinary as a stop signal – or beating their brains to recall if the complicated sequence of red and green flashes was correct…

Slowing, the train closed the remaining distance. Yes, stopping in about the right place... I raised the nonLee a fraction and waited. The nose of the locomotive passed me, the first carriage was juddering to a halt in front of us, but I could scarcely make out the guards in the even pitchier darkness left by the passage of the headlight.

“Fish and Foxes, now,” breathed Bane.

Click
. Lights – appropriately dim out of consideration for our dark-adapted vision – flooded the train.
There!
Two guards, almost immediately in front of me, just throwing their hands up to their eyes.

I took one long, deliberate second to aim at the one on the left and squeezed the trigger. Just once… The guard dropped, the other followed. If any of us had missed, only Bane and Father Mark – Little Lion – would’ve fired a second time.

The locomotive’s engine roared – they’d seen the lights…

“Bugs and Reptiles,” snapped Bane.

Flash. Bang.

A flash of slightly greenish flame from just ahead of the train’s nose and the sound of a second explosion from the rear…

Screech.

The brakes locked, and the train shuddered to a halt again. Probably better not to think about how the guards in the locomotive must be feeling right now…
Too late
.

“African and Birds, go…”

Two dark shadows moved into the lights on our side of the train – Dove and Pigeon. Pigeon had his nonLee – indistinguishable from a Lethal in this light – trained on the locomotive door to discourage anyone from opening it. On the other side, Giraffe should be doing the same. Dove darted in close to spray a thick layer of flashDry rock glue all around the edges of the sliding door. The rescue party would get it open fast enough, but no one would be getting out for now.

“Egg laid,” confirmed Dove, as they backed away again.

“My trunk’s done the job,” said Elephant from the other side of the train.

“Postal service, come and get your packages,” said Bane. “Aquatics, Fish, Birds, lay your eggs, please.”

Six figures hurried forward, appeared to fiddle for a moment with the doors at each end of the three coaches, then jogged back up the bank.

“Aquatics, clear.”

“Fish, clear.”

“Birds, clear.”

“Hatching time,” said Bane.

Bang. Crack.

The charges went off almost in unison.

“Okay, Aquatics, Fish, Birds, get it unwrapped.”

The same six figures raced down again and began to haul the doors open.

“Anyone having trouble unwrapping the gifts?”

Silence. Good. All the doors were open.

The noise of the trucks was audible now over the soft hum of the locomotive. With astonishing swiftness, even considering all the drills, they manoeuvred into the narrow space between track and trees, leaving almost no gap between coach doors and truck tailgates.

“Pussycat, Brown Bird, Cuckoo, moving positions now. Keep your eyes peeled,” said Bane. “Everyone else, transfer those packages.”

We scrambled to our feet and hurried down the slope, Bane slipping a small device into my hand before heading off along the train. I climbed the ladder quickly to the roof, lying down on my stomach to reduce my silhouette. Looking down into the observation platform at the two unconscious guards, I could also see both of the locomotive doors. We didn’t dare shoot the guards again to make sure – just possible one could’ve been hit three times already.

Pussycat would be doing the same at the other end of the train. Sister Krayj was here for her shooting abilities, like me. She was the only other girl. Woman. About Father Mark’s age, she clearly had a similar history. One of the criteria for the selection of everyone
else
had been their ability to shift a large amount of stuff in a very short time. Bane, recently recovered from starvation and a sprained arm, was sensibly watching and overseeing from the roof of the middle carriage – no doubt hating not being able to help.

I glanced at the thing in my hand. A green light glowed steadily. All phone transmissions in a five hundred metre radius were still jammed. Red, Green, Snail and Bumblebee raced past below me, towards the loot, having faked the train’s passage through the signal sensor. As far as EuroTrac knew, the train was simply running about thirty seconds late.

The other guys were already getting to work, four to each locked metal crate – designed for fork lift trucks, of course – their grunts of exertion were audible even over all the engines. How many of the things were there in each carriage? Carla said to allow one truck per half carriage. But we’d only half an hour, then we were leaving, ‘cause that’s how long before the train was due at the next signals – and the next sensor. We wanted to be long gone before the search party arrived, since it would probably be in the form of a helicopter armed with air to ground missiles.

Five minutes. The light glowed green. The guys grunted.

Ten minutes. Green light still. Grunts turning to groans.

Fifteen minutes. Green light. Groans becoming moans.

Twenty minutes. Green. Gasping, whooping inhalations.

Twenty-five minutes…

“This is Little Lion, the parcels are all loaded...” Father Mark sounded like he could barely speak.

“Loaders, mount up,” ordered Bane, at once. The guys scrambled aboard the trucks, mostly into the cabs, but a few into the backs. “Okay, Pussycat, Brown Bird, in we get.”

Shoving the nonLee into my waistband and clutching the priceless jammer in my sweaty hand, with one last glance at the sleeping guards I scrambled down the ladder and ran for the trucks. Clumsy and slow in the bulletproof vest, I reached the nearest one and Bane reached out and hauled me up into the cab, just like in the practices. Well, I’d mostly climbed in by myself in the practices…

“Full check,” said Bane. Everyone signed in, postmen, postal service and sorting office. Only when everyone was accounted for, did Bane say, “Right, express delivery, let’s go.”

The drivers pulled off smoothly into an instant convoy, snaking back into the forest and heading off along a Resistance-maintained track, the trucks bouncing and jouncing. It was a three hour drive back to the port of Genoa – or rather, to a small fishing village nearby – and we needed to make it by three o’clock, or a EuroFriendly satellite would come over the boats before they reached Gozo. Camouflaged though the trucks would be, we didn’t want three boats to be observed arriving at a supposedly dusty and almost uninhabited rock.

But before
that
, we had to reach an abandoned railway tunnel by midnight, so we could hide from the EuroGov satellite until one o’clock. Coming up to eleven, now, so we were just about on target – no time to spare.

Jolt. Jolt. Jolt. Bounce. Jolt…

...Eerie stillness and pitch blackness. I raised a hand to my face – couldn’t see it. Silence except for two sets of breathing – one more like snoring. My head lay in someone’s lap.

“Bane?”

“Awake, Margo?”

“No, I’m sleep talking,
numpty
,” I teased. “Are we in the tunnel?”

“Yep. Made it with three minutes to spare. Too close – must allow more travel time in future.”

“What time is it now?”

The phone glowed in the darkness as he took it from his pocket – our driver, ‘Boyracer’, was slumped over his steering wheel, deeply asleep.

“Twenty past twelve.”

Darkness settled over the cab again as he put the phone away. At least I’d slept through part of the wait.

“The loading go okay?”

“Yeah, I’m well impressed. Those things were heavy.”

“I was afraid the guys were all going to collapse or something.”

“Perhaps we should’ve had a few spares to swap in, but there’s enough of us as it is. Well, the next operation’s going to be totally different, anyway.”

We sat in silence after that, though we could probably have sung at the top of our voices without waking the driver. I was dozing when Bane’s voice jerked me fully awake again.

“Okay, everyone, the Eye of Sauron has passed over.” Not a code name, that, just the Vatican slang for the EuroBloc satellite. “Time for some more express delivery, let’s move…”

Engines roared and headlights blazed dazzlingly into life. Within minutes we’d left the tunnel behind us and were bouncing through the forest once more.