Roses Are Red

Chapter Sixty-Two

"I can't stand this! "Betsey yelled. "Goddamn him to hell I want to kill that bastard," The money bags were oversized and heavy; we were exhausted from lugging them through the train. We were covered with perspiration and dirt and soot. Jumpy and on edge. The constant rattle of the train was noisier than ever.

The Amtrak train was rushing through deep woods again. Its horn blared loudly. Agent Walsh was keeping track of the stations we'd passed.

Then the Handie-Talkie came to life again. "Get those bags of money and diamonds ready. Open the door now! And when you toss them throw them out close together. If you don't, a hostage will be shot! We're watching every move you make. You're very pretty, Agent Cavalierre."

"Yeah, and you're a geek," Betsey muttered to herself. Her pale blue T-shirt was stained a shade darker with sweat. Her black hair stuck closely to her scalp. If she'd had an ounce of fat on her before, she'd lost it during the jarring train ride.

"False alarm," the voice on the radio said with obvious glee. "As you were. That's all for the moment."

The two-way went dead again.

"Shit!"

Everyone collapsed on to the duffel bags and lay there breathing heavily. I was trying to keep my brain working in straight lines, but it was getting harder after each false alarm. I really wasn't sure if I could make another run to the other end of the train.

"Maybe we should get off the train with the money bags." Walsh spoke from his perch on the bags. "Screw up their timing at least. Do something they don't expect."

"It's an idea, but too dangerous for the hostages, "Betsey told him.

Walsh and Doud cursed loudly when the two-way came on again. We had almost reached our limit. What was our limit?

"No rest for the wicked," the voice said. We could hear the pop of a soft-drink or beer can being opened. Then a sigh of refreshment. "Or maybe the line should be, rest for the wicked?"

The radio voice screamed at us. "Throw out the bags now! Do it! We're watching the train. We see you! Throw the bags or we kill all of them!"

We had no choice; no options had been left open to us. It was all we could do to try to throw the bags off close to one another. We were too tired to move as fast as we might have. I felt as if I were moving in a dream. My clothes were soaking wet; my arms and legs sore.

"Throw the bags faster!" the voice commanded. "Let's see those muscles, Agent Cavalierre."

Could he see us? Probably. It sounded like it. No doubt he was in the woods with his two-way. How many of them were there?

When the nine bags were gone, the train rushed around a sharp bend in the tracks. We couldn't see what was happening fifty yards behind us. We fell to the floor, cursing and moaning.

Betsey gasped. "Goddamn them. They did it. They got away with it. Oh, goddamn them to hell."

The Handie-Talkie came on again. He wasn't finished with us. "Thanks for the help. You guys are the best. You can always get a job bagging groceries at the local A and P. Might not be a bad career option after this."

Are you the Mastermind?" I asked.

The line went dead.

The radio voice was gone and so were the money and diamonds, and they still had the nineteen hostages.