Mussa waited for the passenger to pass through the doorway before locking down the wheels to the serving cart and pulling open the cabinet so he could remove the two bombs. They were Semtex, more sensitive to shock than the material in the molded cases. How much more sensitive he wasn’t sure, but he made sure not to drop them.
Unlike conventional trains, all but two of the coaches on the high-speed Eurostar shared what trainmen called a common truck, the large wheel assembly below the base of the car. These cars were essentially welded together; separating them while the Eurostar was moving without completely destroying the train was probably impossible. But for safety reasons there was one spot where a more conventional coupler was used. This allowed the train to be separated in an emergency inside the Chunnel, with either half able to proceed, thanks to the fact that there was a power car at either end. The device, called a Scharfenberg coupler device, was located between cars nine and ten; it was invisible to anyone walking between the cars, since it was located below the floor.
Mussa had to place his two bombs in precise locations so that the coupler would be obliterated without damaging the cars enough to derail the train. Neither bomb was all that small, of course; they’d still kill anyone within a few yards of the burst — including Mussa if he was not careful.
He measured the location of the first bomb using the package itself — exactly ten bomb lengths from the sidewall at the center and then over four lengths toward the front of the train. Mussa dropped to his knees and turned the package over and over, only to find the spot blocked by the metal bulkhead of the car’s inner door.
Had there been a mistake?
He slid the bomb as close as he could to the proper spot, then placed the other package. He rammed his fingers into the triggering devices — a simple poke hole at the top of each bomb — then began running into coach ten, grabbing his submachine gun from the cart as he went.