Chapter 15

Lonegan stepped out of the business car and, from its front platform, said, loudly, “I am United States Marshal Connor Lonegan with the Fort Birney Federal Judicial District for Eastern Arenoso. These men are working for me. Tell me, mister unidentified lawman, who are they supposed to have murdered?”

“Stay out of this, Marshal. It ain’t your business,” Coates sneered.

“Mister unidentified lawman, I have seven deputies with me who will convince you that it is our business.”

Coates looked at Lonegan with contempt. “All you’ve got is hot air, Marsh--”

He was interrupted by the distinct sound of pistols being cocked from the direction of the depot. All three Tsosie brothers took a gamble on the likely tunnel vision at play among Coates’s nervous posse, as they focused narrowly on the Malik brothers. The Tsosies had stepped off the front of the caboose on the other side of the train, hurried forward around the locomotive, and then made their way behind the sheriff’s posse.

While the Tsosies drew the posse’s attention to their rear, Trombley and Goodson exited the business car, and, with Lonegan, stepped down from the car, where they, too, drew and cocked their pistols. At the same time, Donnie Walsh had stepped onto the rear platform of the caboose, and Healy stepped out onto the business car platform. Both brought shotguns to bear on Coates’s posse, the shotguns having been provided by Trombley and Goodson.

Coates and his men looked around uncertainly, the barrels of their weapons sagging toward the platform deck.

Lonegan walked up to Coates and asked, in a normal tone, “Who are you and what is your authority?”

Coates, still with a tone of disdain, said, “I am Arthur Coates, the Chief Judge of Jackson County. This is Clarence Odey, the Sheriff of Jackson County.”

Lonegan looked a bit bewildered. “Where is Sheriff Williams?”

Coates wagged his shotgun barrel toward the Maliks. “These two killed him this morning.”

“They did?” Lonegan’s surprised tone carried an air of doubt. “At what time did the murder take place?”

“Just after eleven o’clock.”

“Just after eleven o’clock, you say? Who witnessed this crime?”

“Martin Doyle, the head of security for the Fort Birney branch of the K and ASR.”

“Where is Mister Doyle?”

“He had to leave on the morning train.”

“And why did he have to leave?”

“He said that the, uh, Maliks had, uh, well, he said that the Maliks had hidden on the train and he and his deputy would catch them.”

“Are there any other charges against Emil or Anders Malik?”

“Yes. They’re charged with the murders of Judge John Gunderson, Prosecuting Attorney Timothy Banks, and Stationmaster Joshua Trent.’

Both Maliks gasped at the mention of Trent’s name. Malik looked toward Tom Palmer, who gave a slow nod of his head.

Lonegan paused for a moment, then said, “May I see the arrest warrant?”

Coates paused, but briefly. “It’s a verbal warrant.”

Lonegan again looked bewildered. “A verbal warrant? Who issued it?”

Coates looked smug. “As chief county judge, I did.”

Lonegan looked at Malik. “Mister Malik, under the law, who is authorized to issue a verbal warrant?”

Malik said, “No one. There is no such thing under the Constitution of the United States.”

Lonegan asked, “Then, what authority might Mister Coates cite in order to make your arrest legal?”

“By producing a valid written warrant or having witnessed the crime, himself.”

“Do you have a written warrant, sir?”

“I have written authorization from Martin Doyle on behalf of the railroad.”

Lonegan turned, again, and asked, “Mister Malik?”

Malik replied, “There are two invalidating problems with that. First, a railroad detective does not have the authority to issue a warrant and, second, Martin Doyle is not, and never has been, employed by the Kansas and Arizona Southern Railroad.”

“Horse crap, Malik. I saw his badge.”

“If you’d like to see two more, they’re in a drawer under the telegraphy desk.”

“I’ll write the warrant, then. It’s but a formality.”

Lonegan again asked, “Mister Malik?”

“A county judge does not have authority over felony crimes, especially capital crimes. That authority is reserved to the state in the state constitution.”

Lonegan asked, “Which leaves but one alternative. Did you witness the crime, Mister Coates?”

Coates hesitated again, then said, “Yes.”

Now there were murmurs from the onlookers.

Tom Palmer said, “Since when, Coates? Your lap dog, Odey, said the only witness was Martin Doyle.”

“I, uh..., I was to be a surprise witness at the trial.”

Lonegan said, “I see. Did you also witness the other murders?”

“Yes, of course. I saw Emil and Anders Malik stab to death John Gunderson, Timothy Banks, Noah Williams and Joshua Trent.”

“When did all this happen?”

“This morning.”

“When, exactly, this morning?”

“Between nine o’clock and eleven fifteen.”

“Well, Mister Surprise Witness, I have a surprise for you. This morning, between nine o’clock and eleven fifteen, Emil and Anders Malik were sixty-five miles from here, in Cleveland, meeting with Sheriff Ethan Napier and myself, among others, including my deputies and Fergus Healy, the conductor on this train.”

Coates just stared at him.

“So, Mister Coates, you not only bear false witness, you have also effected an illegal arrest. But that seems to be a habit in Jackson County.”

“Now just one minute, here, Lonegan...”

Malik asked, “How is it that you are chief judge, Arthur?”

“Well, Emil, I was appointed by the other two judges, of course.”

“Not by the governor?”

“The governor? Why would he even care?”

“Unfortunately, Mister Coates,” Malik went on, “outside of the normal election process, under the state constitution, only the governor can appoint someone to fill a vacant chief judgeship. I’m afraid you have no authority at all.”

Lonegan asked, “Will you persist in saying you saw these men commit those murders?”

Coates hesitated.

Lonegan shook his head in disgust. “Since I know the Maliks weren’t there, then, by your own admission, it makes you the only other person known to be present when each man met his end.”

Coates looked stricken. “Oh, wait, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t really say that right. I, uh, you may have misunderstood me.”

Lonegan looked at Coates for a long moment, then said, “Coates, you’re a disgrace. Mister Odey, release these men.”

Odey looked at Coates, who sneered, “Well, you’re the sheriff.” Then Coates walked quickly across the platform, down the steps, and to the buggy that was parked there. He unclipped the tether weight and stowed both it and its long leather strap in the foot well of the buggy. Then he climbed in and whipped the horse into a half circle turn to head back up Jackson Street. He had the horse at a gallop as he crossed Wagon Road Avenue and continued west.

Odey looked at the two deputies who were still behind the Maliks and said, dejectedly, “Turn ‘em loose.” The deputies removed the shackles and returned the pistols and knives.

Lonegan, still with his gun drawn, stepped up behind Odey and said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Clarence Odey, I have a federal warrant for your arrest as an accessory to the murder of a United States deputy marshal. Drop that shotgun.”

“What?” Odey shouted, as his head whipped around, followed by the rest of his body, along with the barrels of his shotgun, which ended up pointing at Lonegan. The loud report of a shot startled almost everyone, but Odey most of all, as he finally dropped the shotgun so that he could clutch at his chest. He crumpled to the wood deck as smoke swirled from the barrel of Lonegan’s revolver.

Lonegan, Malik, and one of the deputies crouched over the erstwhile sheriff. Blood was burbling from his nose and lips. He gasped a garbled, “I ... wasn’t ... gonna...” But Odey’s eyes fell into an unfocused stare and, after a final gush, the flow of blood from his mouth and nose stopped. One of his hands slipped from his chest to fall at his side.

Malik stood and said, “Damn! That’s another one. These men are just too dumb to stay alive.”

Lonegan, who’d risen next to him, looked a bit unsteady. “I don’t, uh..., I don’t think he was gonna shoot me. He just turned ... and the, uh, the gun turned with him.”

Malik looked at him. “What? Connor, there is no way you could have known that, or even to be sure of it, now.”

“But he said--”

“He started to say something, you assume it was about shooting. Even if it was, how do you know it wasn’t a lie that died on his lips? You had no choice, Connor. If I’d had my pistol in hand, I’d have shot him, too.”

Lonegan just looked back at him.

“Connor, these men have all been marked by impetuous and wrong-headed urges that have served no one well, not even themselves. Hell, two minutes ago Arthur Coates incriminated himself in front of more than a dozen witnesses. They’ve made bad decisions of an instant, time after time. It’s why they’re all dead, despite our purposes to the contrary. Even if he’d not intended to shoot as he turned, he might have revised that notion once he realized his gun was pointed at your belly. You made a clear announcement. You told him to disarm.”

Malik looked at Lonegan’s face, then stood straight and glanced over at Trombley, who had walked closer after the shooting. Malik said, sotto vocé, “Leo, take him into my car. There’re flasks of bourbon and tequila in the bottom drawer in the front office. See if he’ll take a shot, a big one, but only one. I’ll organize things out here.”

Trombley said, “Sure, Emil.” Then, “Boss, let’s go have a drink.” Both men left, Lonegan without further urging.

Malik turned to the others who were all standing uncertainly on the station deck, save for Christina and Matilda, who were striding, as quickly as their long skirts allowed, up the platform’s steps.

To the county deputies, he said, “Get these shackles off of us, then take this man to the undertaker and write out your reports. He was under arrest at the time of his death, having aimed his shotgun--”

“He wasn’t gonna shoot,” said the deputy who’d heard Odey’s last words.

“How do you know that?” Malik demanded.

“It’s what he said.”

“Oh? What did he say, precisely?”

“Well, he said, ‘I wasn’t gonna,’ but what else could he have meant?”

“What else, indeed? Maybe, ‘I wasn’t gonna let you take me in,’ or, ‘I wasn’t gonna be taken alive.’ For that matter, how do you know whatever he said would’ve been the truth? Be sensible, deputy. He was under arrest for accessory to murder of a deputy US marshal and he was pointing a loaded shotgun at another federal marshal after he’d been told to drop it. If I’d pointed a loaded gun at your bunch when you placed me under arrest a few minutes ago, would you have hesitated to shoot me?”

The man looked away for a moment, then looked back at Odey’s corps “Well ... But still...”

“Deputy, conjecture all you want, but the facts stand as they are. Now finish up here because the real murderer, that phony railroad detective, Martin Doyle, is getting away as we stand here jabbering about the mess you men caused. Not only that, but Doyle has three kidnapped women hidden on that train. So, do your job.”

The deputy turned to his fellows and began issuing instructions.

Malik turned to Healy while he was loosed from the cuffs. “Mister Healy, can you leave my cars here while the you take on water?”

“Aye, an’ we will, Mister Malik.” Healy handed his shotgun to Goodson and strode off to the locomotive.

Malik walked toward the depot and the group of men standing there. He paused, though, and turned toward Andy, who was hugging his wife. “Andy,” he called, gently, “join us as soon as you can.” Then he turned to Cowboy and Matilda, but Cowboy was already giving him the nod.

He resumed his steps toward the depot, where he paused to speak to the men waiting there.

“Joshua Trent is dead?”

Tom Palmer said, “Just before the southbound left. Doyle said he saw you two running off when he came in here. No one else was inside, at the time. I knew there was somethin’ smelled wrong about that Doyle. But he and the train were long gone by the time I heard about Joshua and Noah bein’ killed.”

Malik lowered his head and, shaking it slowly, said, “Joshua was a good man.” Then he looked up, “But I need to get moving if we’re to catch Doyle and free those women. What’s the word from the south? Is the southbound on time?”

Palmer said, “Line’s cut to the south, too. I sent the track gang that direction to check the wires. They’re working back over the first mile, as they found no signal out there. They’re barely across the Rio Isabella.”

“When did it go down?”

“Near as I can figure, the same time the north connection went out.”

“That’s notable. Let me think. In the meantime, Val, could you bring a couple of our coach guns and a box of shells over to my business car?”

“Sure, Emil.” He walked off quickly.

“Jacob, would you go over to the bank and ask Mister Smith to come over here, please.”

“He’ll want to know why, Emil.”

Malik smiled at the merchant. “As do you, I’d guess. Fact is, we need someone to contact the governor and alert him to the shenanigans already going on in the county government and Gunderson’s body’s probably not cold, yet. For that matter, you should write, too, Jacob. Maybe Francine Kuiper, as well. Send wires, follow up with express letters. In fact, why don’t you explain it to both of them? No need for them to come here. Maylon, maybe you and Molly, too. And Eve Palmer and Jan Viddick, if he will, Lucius Gibbons and Hannah, too. I’ll get Andy to write--oh, you’re here.” Andy and Christina were standing behind him.

Andy said, “I heard, Emil. Even better, Christina heard. She’ll be able to write a good one. Maybe help you too, Papa.”

“I don’t need no help writin’ a letter, whippersnapper.”

“Maybe someone to help keep you from including double negatives, you relic,” his daughter said, grinning. “I’ll go with you to see Mister Smith. Shall we?” She offered her arm to her father, who smiled fondly and took her arm in his as they left through the front door.

Malik looked at Lewin. “So, are you missing the excitement of the big city, yet?”

“Not so much as I’m missing its peace and quiet.”

Malik chuckled, then said, “You should probably write the governor, too, David.”

“Both of us will, Emil. But what is your plan for today?”

“To get back on the trail of that ... that Doyle as soon as they take on water. But we need to catch him unawares, if at all possible. So, Tom, once the wire is fixed, no mention of the special train.” By K&ASR policy, a yard master became responsible for local operations in the absence of a stationmaster.

“If you say so, Boss.”

“Mind your tongue, peasant. Remember the emancipation list. Your name’s already been struck off for this year.” Only Lewin looked puzzled, the others all having heard of Emil’s ongoing jest with the local railroad employees. “But I find it remarkable that both north and south lines went out at the same time. We’re pretty confident that Doyle only has one accomplice with him, the Mexican businessman who buys the women. If Doyle was alone here when both lines went down...?”

Palmer looked puzzled. “But he wasn’t alone. Joshua and Noah Williams were--Oh! That’s why he had to kill them. Then maybe the problem is right under our noses.”

Palmer walked into the depot and through the pass gate accessing the open office area behind the counters. He went to the telegraphy desk and began tracing wires. Malik joined him while the others observed from across the ticket counter. Cowboy and Matilda had come in; Andy filled them in.

Palmer warned, “Careful, Emil, these lines are charged with electrical currents,” as he continued to move cables and open connection boxes.

“So, it’s not magic, then?”

“Nice, Emil. I’m sure Mister Chen would be interested in your quaint understanding of modern communications.” Palmer was talking from beneath the counter, where he was lying on his back. “Emil, would you light a lamp and hand it down here?”

Malik took the lamp from the desk top, retrieved a safety match from a box nearby, and lit the lamp. He replaced the glass chimney and set the lamp on the floor near Palmer’s hand. Then he crouched near Palmer’s feet. “Let me know if I can help.”

“Not much that--what’s this? Son of a...” He fussed with some wires under the desk, in the very back. “Emil, there should be some pliers in the drawer under the telegraph key. Would you hand ‘em to me?”

Malik got to his knees, found the pliers, and put them in Palmer’s outstretched left hand.

After a minute, Palmer asked, “Nothin’ comin’ in, huh?”

“Nothing different that I can tell,” Malik replied.

“Well, that Doyle’s a clever one, so let’s check over here, too.” Palmer scooted over a couple feet and reached up into another void at the back of the overhanging desk counter. “Ow!” He shouted and his whole body jerked as there came a flash and crackling sound from under the desk.

“Tom?”

“Ah, just some singed fingers. Push that lamp closer, would you?” Reaching out, Palmer took the lamp and lifted it closer to the space he’d been examining. “Well, you rotten snake.” There was another flash accompanied by a loud crack.

“Tom, are you--”

“I’m unhurt, Emil. I had to disarm Doyle’s little trap. Just a moment.”

Then the telegraph reader came to life, chattering in its protective half-cover.

“You got it, Tom.”

“I hear it, Emil. Take this lamp, please.”

Malik took the lamp and blew it out, setting it back on the desk. Palmer crawled out from under the desk and put the pliers back in the drawer. Then he sat down in the chair by the telegraph key and waited. When there was a pause, he reached for the key and bumped out a brief code, then waited. A signal came back and he began bouncing the key horizontally between thumb and forefinger, taking nearly a minute.

Finally, he turned to Malik and the others. “I’ve told Fort Birney we’re on line but accepting only railroad and emergency messages. I’ve also asked for a telegrapher and an acting stationmaster. I let them know that Joshua has been killed.”

He turned back to the pulsating key. “Hold on,” he said, and began to write.

“They’ll have someone on the morning train,” Palmer said, as he finished writing.

Then he looked at the group. “Doyle had put in two breaks, but disguised them both so they wouldn’t be easily noticed. I’m just lucky I found the one I did, first. Maybe ‘cause my brother and I are both southpaws, an’ we have a way of doin’ some things opposite than most folks. Likely, someone looking would have run into those live wires first, but they’d ‘a been carryin’ a much stronger charge. It might ‘a killed ‘im. That Doyle is a very clever hombre, but I would dearly like to fry him in oil.”

At that point, the locomotive and tender, having filled the water tank, ran past the depot on the main line, on its way to the south end of the depot siding, where it would reverse up to the three cars of its light consist.

Malik was leaning on the counter, silently contemplating the cars set at the platform. He turned to Palmer and said, “Doyle seems very familiar with railroad operations, very familiar. Just look how he disabled the telegraph. Right under our noses, as you said, but it’s kept a dozen men chasing wild geese for hours.”

He stood up straight and took at Andy, Cowboy, and the others. Healy walked in, at that point. Malik looked directly at him. “There were some wires sent about the special train earlier, before the wire went down. We can’t be sure Doyle doesn’t know about it. So he’ll be suspicious if it just disappears from the line. Instead, let’s do this: We’ll show our time as being an hour later than it actually is.”

Palmer asked, “How exactly could you do that?”

“Well, an hour after we leave, you put out the standard departure notice. We’ll ask each station to do the same as we go by.”

“Aye, but you’re playin’ a dangerous game, laddie. It’s one thing to run silent, it’s another entirely to misrepresent your location,” Healy said.

“How would it be different?”

“Well, sir, the wire’s back up. No one will be ready for special operations. There’ll be no extra cautions.”

“Sure, Fergus, but there wouldn’t be, anyway. We’d still be running counter to rules because of our speed. Our real problem is visibility. We need to be able to see what’s ahead of us. I mean, we can expect some possible problems near the yards, and we’ll slow down there, in any event. But the only place that seems especially risky is in the Utica Heights, where there are lots of curves that limit visibility. Most of the rest of the line south of there has few curves, save for a couple places.”

“What about the northbound?”

“What do you mean?”

Healy pulled his watch and looked at it. “The northbound should just have left Romulus, don’t you know. She’ll reach the water tower at Micah Spring in about forty minutes. Just under an hour after, she’ll be departing Dorado Springs. We need a siding in order to pass that train, an’ that we do, an’ we definitely don’t want to meet up with ‘er in the Utica Heights.”

“Can we make it to Dorado Springs before they leave there?”

Healy puffed air out through his lips, then, “I don’t know, laddie. I wouldn’t be bettin’ on it.”

Malik said, “We’ve got to try. We’ll leave right now. Get ‘em ready, Fergus. Andy, could you stay here and keep things organized? I’m getting a bit annoyed at all the Jackson County arrest warrants we seem to attract. Go on up to the courthouse and warn the judges that their shenanigans need to quit or we’ll be coming after them for twice what we got the last time. They’ll have to return all the money they’ve been filching from the county coffers to pay our bill.”

“With pleasure, brother.”

“Remember, Tom, a departure notice in one hour, please.”

“I’ll do that, Emil.”

Andy said, “Better to give him a written order, Emil, so it’s not his responsibility.”

“Good point.” Malik turned toward the service counter.

Palmer said, “You don’t need to do that, Emil.

Malik was already writing. “I know, Tom, but it’ll make me feel better.”

Finishing the note, Malik handed it to Palmer, then shook hands with him, slapped his brother on the shoulder, and rushed out the door. He walked over to Healy and said, “How about you and I talk with Mister Murphy while we get underway? Let’s go up to the locomotive.”

Healy said, “Let me tell me brakemen.” And he climbed up to enter the caboose.

Cowboy gave Matilda a chaste Victorian kiss and he and his brothers were just boarding when Malik grabbed his friend’s sleeve. “Andy’s staying here to straighten out the courthouse. I’m going up to the locomotive for a moment to talk with Mister Murphy. Make sure everyone’s settled. If there’s a problem, let me know right away. I intend to set out as soon as Fergus and I get to the locomotive cab.”

“I’ll check right now.”

Malik walked toward the engine and found Healy climbing down from the front platform of the caboose.

Healy said, “Aye, an’ I’m not so sure of this, boyo.”

Malik stopped next to the tender. He turned to Healy. “Look, Fergus, in about an hour-and-a-half, the northbound is due to depart from the Springs. And we can be there in a little over an hour. We’ll need coal, in any event, so they can pass us there. Even if they arrive early, we know that the northbound won’t be departing early. If anything, it’ll be running late. There are straight stretches and easy curves going into the Springs. We’d be able to see the northbound well in advance, and they’d see us. Our only risk is in the Heights, and those tracks should be open, save maybe around Utica Switch.”

“What about the gangs lookin’ for the breaks, Emil?”

“This one’s already back and cleared through here. We’ll have to watch for the Utica Switch gang when we’re about, what, fifteen miles out from Utica Switch? But they should be on their way back by then. We can go back to the safety watch and the warning whistle. But we need to move if we’re to save those women.”

“Aye, then, let’s talk to Mister Murphy.”

First Healy, then Malik, climbed the ladder into the open-back locomotive cab. The two crewmen watched them enter the cab.

Seamus Murphy, the engineer, was of middle height and forty years old, with a pock-marked face behind a full, dark, nearly-black beard. The fireman, Erik Olsen, looked to be in his late twenties. He was clean shaven, taller than Malik, and well built in his chest and shoulders. His face, hands, blond hair, and clothing were marked with coal dust.

Healy said, “Seamus, highball, if you please. Fast as is safe, now, but no better ‘n sixty-five. No one will be expectin’ us, me boy, because we’re having our departure notices delayed one hour, so as to lull that divil we’re after. We’ll need to watch for the Utica track gang startin’ about mile one-thirty, I would think. I’ve got us an extra lad, so I’ll keep one of ‘em up here to help keep watch. But be tuggin’ that banshee’s tail ‘fore the curves, just for luck.”

Murphy looked from Healy’s worried face to Malik’s grim visage, then he turned to Olsen. “Erik, there’s a good lad, we’ll want some head for the Heights.”

Olsen said, “You got ‘er, boss,” and he grabbed his scoop shovel and stepped toward the diminishing cascade of coal.

Murphy turned to the array of wheels, valves, and levers, and pulled the whistle cord for two short blasts. He looked out his window, both backward and ahead, and pulled his head back inside the cab. Then, turning valve stems and throwing the long levers extending from the floor, he put the train into motion.

Murphy turned back to Healy and Malik. Between the two trainmen, they recommended procedures, explaining to Malik how best to manage the higher speeds in the unusual circumstances. The conversation necessitated raised voices and close proximity in the noisy setting of the open-backed locomotive cab as it crept down the depot siding.

Finally, Malik said, “You men know my intentions, here, today, and I trust all of you to make the decisions necessary. I’m not averse to risk, but that risk should be reduced as much as it can be in the face of our mission and then it should be closely managed. If you need me or the others to help out, just tell me what you need us to do.”

Malik shook hands with both the engineer and the conductor.

Healy said to Malik, “Let’s get down on the ground and catch the ladders on the crew car while we’re still at yard speed. ‘Twill be easier than climbin’ o’er the coal.” He immediately stepped to the ladder behind the engineer and climbed down, stepping off the slowly moving locomotive. Malik followed down the ladder. Healy, walking apace, said, “Step off with your right foot, hold onto the ladder with your left hand.” Which is what Malik did.

On the ground, Healy said, “Now, when she’s movin’, you always board with your trailin’ foot, first. Your trailin’ foot is always that one toward the trailin’ end o’ the train. That be our left foot, now, as we face the cars movin’ to the right. Wait here and watch how I do it.”

Healy walked several yards opposite the direction of the moving train, stopping just in time to catch the back rail on the caboose. He grabbed the hand rails on either side of the steps, then took a tall step onto the bottom tread with his left foot, finally bringing the right foot aboard. He moved up to the platform to clear the steps for Malik.

Malik, a bit uncertain, copied the conductor’s technique, but the train was still moving slowly enough that it was not a difficult task.

As Malik climbed to the platform Healy said, “Well done, laddie. By mountin’ wit’ the trailin’ foot first, if you do slip and fall, your body’s more likely to pivot away from the train as your lead foot would then be hittin’ the ground first, don’t you know. It also allows the trailin’ foot to slide back against the side of the ladder, making space for your other foot, so you don’t get tangle-footed tryin’ to mount.”

Malik paused, looked back at the steep, narrow steps and the passing ground, then he turned back to Healy. “Yes, I can see all that. So it’s the reverse getting off, then?”

“Aye, an’ ‘tis. Lead foot first, then. It swings you out in the direction of travel, it does, on an angle away from a movin’ train car.”

As Healy opened the caboose door, Malik stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Fergus, is there anything I can do to make this passage safer? Anything you need help with? I do want us to move as quickly as we can, but I realize the risks. I don’t take them lightly.”

“Aye, an’ I know that, Emil. I may not be happy about it, but I think you called it right, else I would’na allowed Seamus his head,