Bloody Passage - Jack Higgins [60]
A bullet tugged at my left shoulder and then a whole stream ripped into the boxcar above our heads. When I turned, Masmoudi was in the gateway of the house firing an AK at us and two men beside him were setting up a light machine gun on its tripod.
Barzini pulled at my sleeve. "We stay here, we're finished. Better inside."
We got Wyatt on his feet again, dazed and uncomprehending, and ran alongside the train into the engine shed. Simone and Nino were right behind us, but Langley was taking his own sweet time, firing madly. It was only when the light machine gun opened up that he turned and ran for it.
I eased Wyatt down against the wall beside the locomotive. It was warm up there. There was a smell of hot iron and steam. I turned to Simone. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "What are we going to do, Oliver?"
"God knows." I looked around me. The shed was partially illuminated by the flickering light from the burning tracks. "This certainly looks like a dead enough end."
Langley was crouched at the entrance, peering outside. For a moment there seemed a lull in the firing. I said, "What's going on out there?"
"I think he's grouping his forces, old stick. Better get ready for some sort of frontal assault."
Nino called, "Look what I found. A machine gun."
It was mounted on the roof of the boxcar immediately behind the engine tender. Like the rest of their hardware it was Russian, an RPD using hundred-round dram magazines. There were about eight of those in the ammunition box beside it. Which was something because the way things were shaping up we'd need all the help we could get.
I jumped down and joined Langley at the entrance. Over by the tracks a line of men were trying to do something about the fire, passing buckets of water from hand to hand. Masmoudi had thirty or forty men beside the villa wall and he and Husseini had their heads together.
"What do you think?" Langley said.
I didn't get a chance to reply because there was a sudden sharp cry behind me and Barzini called, "Heh, Oliver, look at this."
He had climbed up into the cab of the locomotive and now appeared holding a tiny wizened little Arab in greasy khaki turban and bush shirt.
"He was hiding up here."
The little Arab said, "No, effendi, please. I meant no harm. I am the engine driver. Talif."
"You speak good English," I said.
"Damn good English, effendi. I work for British army during the war. I served with General Montgomery."
Somehow he made it sound personal. I said, "What were you doing up there?"
"Sleeping, effendi. It's warm next to the fire box and then the shooting started ... I was afraid."
I said, "There's a fire going in this thing?"
"But of course, effendi. We leave at seven in the morning on the Tripoli run and without steam ..."
Langley, who had been listening from the entrance, said, "Do you mean you've got a head of steam on?" He kicked a wheel. "Will she go?"
"You mean now, effendi?" Talif shrugged. "Not at full power, you understand. For that the fire would need stoking."
"How fast?" I demanded impatiently.
"Fifteen, maybe twenty miles an hour."
Barzini said, "You think this could be our way out, Oliver?"
"It's got to be. The only question is can the damn thing move fast enough to take that gate with it."
"There's only one way to find out." He turned to Nino. "Heh, boy, you get in that cab and start shoveling coal. I want to hear that fire roar."
Nino did as he was told and Talif said timidly, plucking at my sleeve, "You are taking the train, effendi?"
"No, you are," I said. "We're just coming along for the ride."
"Please--effendi." He looked scared to death. "On my mother's grave, I beg you. Colonel Masmoudi will hang me up by my ears if I should do such a thing."
"And if you don't," Barzini told him, cheerfully, "I'll hang you up by something else. Now climb in that cab and get things started."
Talif turned away, shoulders hunched and scrambled up onto the footplate. I reached down and pulled Wyatt to his feet. He swayed, leaning against me, looking really ill.
"When do I wake up?" he said wearily.