Gaunt shook his head.
‘He won’t listen to me.’
Lucy threw the phone onto a table. She turned to Voss.
‘He said you made a deal.’
Voss fetched the missile case from the quad. He set it down on the carriage floor.
‘The virus,’ said Voss. ‘You said it yourself. We’re old. Used up. This is our last war. We can get a few dollars for the gold. But the virus is our true meal ticket. We can make a trade. Put ourselves on easy street.’
Lucy drew her pistol. She dug the barrel into Gaunt’s ear.
‘What about Toon? Fucker shot him in the head.’
‘Toon was my best friend,’ said Voss. ‘He’d walk through hell for any one of us. If he were here right now, he would take the deal. He’d want us to walk away rich. End our run ahead of the game.’
‘Jabril says this shit has to be destroyed. I think he’s right.’
Lucy crouched and flipped hasps. She lifted the case lid. She took the glass virus cylinder from its foam bed, her face lit blue.
‘Think about it,’ said Voss. ‘Want to spend the rest of your life living out of a bag? One fucked up warzone after another? That litre of liquid is worth millions. Tens of millions. We could have a whole new life. Go where we want, be what we want. All we have to do is deliver that shit to Baghdad.’
Lucy stroked the glass.
‘This is the United States government we’re talking about,’ said Voss. ‘The good guys. They just want to study this bug in a lab somewhere. They wouldn’t use it. They don’t want to wipe out cities. Shit, for all we know they might tweak this stuff and cure cancer.’
She shook her head.
‘I don’t trust governments. I’ve seen too many good men die for no reason.’
She replaced the cylinder and closed the case.
‘We burn it.’
Voss drew his pistol and pointed it at Lucy.
‘I can’t let you do it, boss. I just can’t.’
Lucy slowly got to her feet.
‘Hold on, Voss. Take a moment. Think it through.’
‘I’m taking the virus. You can come with me, or stay behind.’
Amanda raised her rifle. Voss shot her in the thigh. She fell to the floor, clutching her leg, hand already wet with blood.
‘Throw down your shit,’ he said. ‘Come on. Both of you. Throw down.’
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘We’ve finally got our hands on a big score. I’m not going to let you put a match to it.’
Knives and guns clattered on the floorboards.
Lucy’s assault rifle lay across a table. Her hand twitched like she was itching to snatch it up.
Voss took aim at Amanda’s head.
‘Try it. I’ll drill your girlfriend through the eyes.’
Amanda limped along the tunnel track. She held Lucy for support.
‘We’ll be all right, babe,’ murmured Lucy. ‘Just have to keep it together.’
‘Keep moving,’ said Voss.
They passed ore trucks and box cars.
Gaunt walked beside Voss. His hands were still tied.
‘You going to cut me loose?’
‘I might.’
‘Don’t get any ideas,’ warned Gaunt. ‘I know how to start the locomotive. Without me, you’re going nowhere.’
Voss prodded Lucy in the back with his gun barrel.
‘Over there. By the wall.’
A timber prop thick as a telegraph pole supporting a roof beam.
Lucy and Amanda embraced the prop. Voss lashed their wrists with plastic cuffs.
The tunnel lights flickered and dimmed for a moment. The generator running dry.
‘How many times have I saved your life?’ asked Lucy, challenging Voss to make eye contact. ‘Think about it. How many times?’
He checked her cuffs.
‘Sorry, boss. I don’t want to die poor.’
Gunshot. The whine and spark of a pistol round hitting an ore truck.
Gaunt and Voss took cover behind a box car.
Lucy and Amanda crouched at the foot of the roof beam and tried to cover their heads.
Jabril shot from deep within the cavern. Voss returned fire. Gunshots echoed through the tunnel. Bullet strikes punched deep into the brittle limestone roof, bringing down dust and rock chunks. A ricochet smacked the tunnel prop, showering Lucy with splinters. She gnawed the tuff-tie binding her wrist, tried to bite through the plastic.
Voss sprayed random fire. He and Gaunt ran for the locomotive.
Lucy waited until the sound of their footfalls diminished to silence.
‘Jabril,’ she shouted. ‘Over here.’
Lucy craned to look at Amanda’s wounded leg. Camo fabric and desert boot wet with blood.
‘How you doing?’ she asked.
‘Not so great,’ said Amanda. Her face was chalk white.
‘It’s not an arterial bleed, but we’ve got to patch that hole.’
Distant engine splutter from the locomotive. Tunnel echo. The diesel engine turning over, trying to engage.
‘There goes our ride.’
The locomotive cab. Gaunt held out his hands.
‘Come on. Cut me the fuck loose.’
‘Just drive the damn train.’
Gaunt studied dials. He tapped a gauge.
‘The fuel tank is nearly dry.’
‘Then what’s the fucking point?’
‘I talked it over with Koell. This train was my way out of the valley if the choppers went down. He said there was a fuel truck, out there in the convoy. Locomotive-grade diesel.’
‘It probably got blown to shit. Nothing but scrap iron.’
‘I saw a couple of intact trucks among the wrecks. We have to check. We have to know for sure. Come on. Don’t pussy out on me now. Koell might be ready to pull the plug on this operation, but he can still tap a massive black budget. You want twenty, thirty million in unmarked bills? He wouldn’t give a shit. Wouldn’t catch his breath. He’s been chasing this virus for a decade. Probably dreams about it each night. If we show up in Baghdad with the virus, he’ll cut a deal, no question. We’ll show him a phone picture, whet his appetite. Make the exchange in the underground garage at the Al-Rasheed. Think about it. A holdall full of cash. Seat on a military flight back to Vandenberg. Like that idea? Couple of days from now, we could be in California. Palm trees. Beaches. Girls. More money than you can spend. We just have to keep our balls and get through the next few hours. Find the truck and pump some gas.’
The tunnel lights flickered.
‘The generator,’ said Gaunt. ‘Must be running out of gas.’
‘Get us rolling.’
‘Come on, man. Cut me loose.’
Voss flipped open his lock-knife, sliced the cuffs and pushed Gaunt towards the breaker panel.
‘Get to work.’
Gaunt opened the panel. A red switch. ENGINE PRIME.
Fuel pumps engaged.
Injectors loaded.
Batteries to START. A thud. A second thud. The great engine cylinders fired and warmed up. A rumble to a roar.
‘Yeah, baby,’ shouted Gaunt. The overhead cabin light burned bright. The console lit up.
A black fog of diesel fumes started to fill the cab.
‘Close the fucking door.’
Gaunt sat at the driver’s console. He released the automatic brake. He pushed the throttle from Idle to Run. Amp needles twitched and rose. He released the second, independent brake. He pushed the throttle forward. Shriek of seized metal starting to shift and turn. The locomotive jerked. Black fumes belched from side exhausts. Carriages slammed and began to roll.
Voss reached across the control desk and flicked HEADLAMP. A fierce cone of light stabbed from the nose of the locomotive, illuminating the tunnel mouth, the beams and planks lying across the track.
‘Hold on.’
The locomotive bulldozed through the barrier. Splintered planks. Tumbling oil drums.
The engine rolled from the tunnel into daylight. A corroded behemoth. A two-hundred-and-fifty-ton dust-streaked juggernaut.