Destiny

ONE-HUNDRED-EIGHT

The tall, thin conductor with a pronounced Adam’s apple came down the aisle taking tickets and checking passports. When he got to Marcus and Alicia, he said, “Lei parla l’italiano?”

“Sì,” said Marcus. “Siamo in grado di parlare inglese troppo.”

The conductor smiled. “Ah, yes. Very good. I speak a little Arabic, too. I don’t know if you and your wife care for an upgrade. We had a few no-shows on the train, and there are some sleeper compartments available. I just thought it might be more comfortable for your wife.”

Alicia smiled. “Thank you. My back is aching.” She turned to Marcus. “Do you mind if we upgrade?”

“Of course not.”

The conductor smiled. “Very good, please follow me.” He led them through two cars until they came to the sleeper cars. The aisle narrowed and numbered compartments were on either side. “You will occupy suite thirteen. We have already turned down the two beds. There is one on the bottom and one on top, plus a small desk and chairs.” He opened the door and ushered Marcus and Alicia inside the suite. “How would you like to take care of the extra charge?”

“How much is it?” Marcus asked.

“Seventy-five Euros.”

Marcus pulled out money and counted the amount. “Thank you.”

“Good evening. Please let me know if there is anything more that you should need. The dining car serves until ten.” He nodded and backed out of the room, ducking his head at the eve of the door.

Marcus opened his laptop and logged online, ready to begin uploading from his flash drive to the website.

Andrew Jenkins left his seat and walked less than a dozen steps to the back of the train. Studying the schematics of the train’s online operating system, he knew a single antenna receiving a KU-band satellite signal fed the Internet server, and that the server was kept under lock and key in an alcove in the rear of the last railcar. Jenkins found the locked panel. He looked back toward the front of the railcar. All the passengers were turned in the opposite direction. The conductor was nowhere to be seen. Within twenty seconds, Jenkins picked the lock and opened the panel.

His idea was to render the server useless without causing smoke or fire damage. He knelt down and used the blade of a knife to cut wires. The lights on the server blinked twice and faded.

Marcus logged on to the site he’d built, revelation310.org. He let out a low whistle.

“What is it?” Alicia asked.

“There are more than one-hundred and twenty million views. Let see what happens when I collate this information. We’ll show the way Carlson and the Kinsley Group killed presidents, prime ministers, and tens of thousands of people in a dozen countries by fueling unjustified wars. All done to fatten their stocks, margins, and bank accounts — accounts that are nothing but money-laundering operations. For good measure, we’ll add the recorded statement made by Merriam Hanover right before she tried to kill us. This is more than enough to hand down at least thirteen indictments for crimes against humanity. ”

“When you add the pictures of Daniel’s scroll from the sealed words along with the history of how we discovered the possible date of earth’s last days, there’ll be a billion views in forty-eight hours.”

The image of the website turned to a black screen. Marcus hit the refresh button. Nothing. “Something’s wrong.”

Alicia leaned closer. “What?”

“We’re offline.”

“Maybe we’re going through a tunnel and lost the satellite signal.”

Marcus stood. “I’ll go look. Stay here. Guard the flash drive with your life.”

Alicia smiled. “I thought that’s what we’ve been doing these last few days.”

“I’ll be back in a minute. The dining car is one car up. Do you want something?”

“Straight vodka would be great.”

“You’re pregnant, remember?” Marcus joked.

“Ha, ha,” Alicia said.

Marcus smiled and left.

Andrew Jenkins relocked the panel and started walking from the last railcar through the train. He casually strolled, glancing at some of the occupied seats, his eyes never locking with anyone. He sauntered all the way to the head railcar, turned around and began walking back through the train, the passengers now mostly facing him. Some were sleeping. Some people played games on smart-phones or tablets. A few people were turning their electronic devices back on, trying in vain to find an Internet signal. One man, with a black fedora pulled down over his face, slept in his seat, a disheveled newspaper on his lap.

“Prego, il signore,” said the conductor, walking around Jenkins.

“What’s happened to your Internet?” asked an American tourist.

“I’m going to check, sir.” The conductor continued walking.

Jenkins approached the serving counter in the dining car.

Marcus stepped into the dining car and stopped. He looked down the length of the car to the man whose back was facing him. The man walked with a slight limp to his left leg. Marcus froze. He watched the man shuffle up to the bar to order something from the bartender. Marcus backed out of the dining car and rushed to Alicia. He locked the door to the sleeper compartment. “We have trouble.”

“What do you mean, Paul?”

“The guy who tried to take us from the bridge, Andrew Jenkins, is on the train. He’s in the dining car.”

Alicia stood from sitting on the bottom berth. “Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How the hell did he find us?”

“I don’t know. I hope Carlson didn’t have a second GPS implant put inside you.”

“We’ve got off get off this train.”

“First stop is Naples. Until then, it’s more than one hundred fifty kilometers per hour.”

“Now I know what happened to the Internet satellite signal. Jenkins did something to sabotage it. Probably found the server and damaged or disengaged it.” Marcus disconnected the flash drive from the laptop.

“That man, Jenkins, doesn’t know we’re in here. We didn’t buy space in here when we bought tickets.”

“No, but all he has to do is walk through the train. If he doesn’t see us out there, he’ll know we’re in here.”

“But he won’t know which berth. There are twelve more.”

“Unless he gets that information from the conductor.”

Jenkins walked back to the last rail car as quickly as he could, trying to keep his pronounced limp to a minimum. He entered the alcove where the conductor was opening the lock. Jenkins said, “Do you lose Internet service often?”

“Rarely. I’m sorry sir. Passengers are not permitted in this area of the train.”

Jenkins smiled. “If it’s your server, I’d be happy to take a look. I worked for Siemens. We’re the same folks who build these trains and program them with the computers. I know my way around the inside of any computer.”

“Okay. Maybe you know where to kick it.” The conductor stepped aside.

Jenkins knelt down and pretended to investigate the source of the trouble. He said, “I can easily unscrew the front panel and see if the motherboard shook loose. That can happen.”

“I hope you can fix it quickly. People on these routes love their Internet. Me, not so much.”

Jenkins chuckled. “I’m beginning to think I caught the wrong train. My cousin and his wife are traveling to Naples. I was supposed to join them tonight. I got caught in traffic, the rain, and bought a ticket late at the station. I walked through the train and didn’t see them.”

“There is a second train leaving Rome in less than a half hour. Perhaps they are on that one.”

“No, they were definitely boarding this one. He’s about forty, broad shoulders. Tall. She’s a little younger. Dark hair. Very pretty.”

“I’ve checked all the ticket holders. Don’t recall a couple like that. The only couple not seated in the general area that was supposed to be there, well, they don’t match that description. She’s pregnant. He’s a little stooped over, has a beard. The lady must be Muslim. She’s wearing a veil.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice them.”

“That’s because I put them in a sleeping suite. How are you coming?” The conductor leaned in closer. His eyes squinted in the lower light, and he pointed to the server. “The wires are cut! Couldn’t you see that?”

Jenkins smiled. “Yeah, I guess I could.” He grabbed the man’s head, viciously twisting. The conductor’s neck snapped. Ticket stubs fell from his hand, scattering across the alcove. He dropped to the floor with his eyes wide open.