The Romanov Ransom

37

Sam rounded the corner, the beam of his flashlight bouncing off a thick wall of rock and rubble that filled the tunnel. Someone had blown up that entrance as well.

“What now?” Remi asked.

“Back the way we came.”

“But—”

“I think there may be a way out.” He led them to where he felt the air moving and smelled the musty odor of dead leaves. A deep crevice angled off to the right. “Here. Smell that?”

Remi stepped closer, breathing deeply. “Yes.”

“What is it?” Sergei asked.

Sam reached into the crevice, pulling out a handful of debris. “Remember the smell of leaves where we came in? That’s what this is.”

“Another air shaft?”

“Possibly.”

Gustaw looked in. “I don’t see any sunlight.”

“The dead leaves got in there somehow.”

A shout echoed down the tunnels, and they all turned, startled at how close it sounded. Sam turned back to the crevice, shined his light into it, examining the cracks and fissures within view. Plenty of finger- and toeholds, and narrow enough that they could brace themselves without need for a rope. What he didn’t see was any light at the top. “It’s a risk, but it’s our only option. If we’re lucky, it’s our way out.”

He turned to Gustaw and Sergei. “Follow Remi. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Sergei eyed the narrow space. “What if it doesn’t go all the way through?”

“At the very least, we can climb up and hope they’ll miss us.”

He gave Remi a boost and she disappeared inside. Sergei followed, then Gustaw. Sam was just about to climb in when he heard a shout of “Da!” behind him. He looked back. A half dozen men raced in his direction, their flashlights bouncing along the tunnel. One of them saw him and fired.

Sam shot back as Gustaw lowered his hand toward him. Sam grabbed it, pulling himself into the crevice, as a barrage of gunshots hit the tunnel.

Bracing himself in the narrow space, he waited for Gustaw to move before climbing up after him, grateful to hear Remi’s voice calling down, “There’s light. It leads out.”

The passage angled sharply to the left, then up, where sun filtered down. By the time he emerged from the tunnel, he heard the gunmen clambering up.

Outside, Sam looked around. The air shaft they’d just emerged from was completely hidden in the low brush growing at the edge of the forest. No wonder it’d never been found.

“Look,” Sergei said, pointing down the hill toward a sign near the railroad tracks. The sixty-fifth-kilometer marker. “I guess we can safely say the Gold Train isn’t in this tunnel.”

“Or,” Sam said, “it’s buried beneath all that rubble we saw down there.” He reloaded his revolver, then aimed at the air shaft, waiting to pick off anyone who emerged. “What’s the fastest way out of here?” he asked Gustaw.

“To the west,” the miner said over the low rumble of an approaching train. “But the Guard. They patrol these woods. If you shoot, they’ll hear.”

“Any other option?” Sam said, never moving his gaze from the opening. “I am open to suggestions.”

“Block the opening?” Sergei replied.

Before Sam could tell him there wasn’t enough time, it grew suddenly quiet in the shaft. He put his finger to his mouth. Grass around the hole rustled with movement. Sunlight glinted off the steel barrel of a handgun as well as the brown hair of the man holding it. The gunman looked around, his gaze widening when he saw Sam aiming at him.

Sam fired. The sharp crack echoed through the forest.

“It’s blocked now,” Remi said as the man fell down into the shaft.

“Not for long,” Sam replied, still hearing movement below. “Should buy us a few minutes, though. Let’s get out of here.”

They ran through the trees toward the tracks. Sam, hearing voices, glanced back, seeing a dozen armed men in the woods behind them.

“The train!” Gustaw called as a blue locomotive rounded the bend.

A shot whistled past them as they raced down the hill.

The four neared the tracks as the rails began to creak from the approaching drive wheels of an old 2-4-2 locomotive that struggled to pull a long freight train up the steep grade. The first few flatcars, empty and rattling, were followed by several tankers and a long line of boxcars, most covered with graffiti.

Sam leaped from the trees bordering the tracks, realizing if they didn’t cross to the other side, they’d be trapped. Luckily, he saw several boxcars that were empty with their doors open. Then a quick glance to see if the engineer and fireman were concentrating on the track ahead, and he took off running.

“Quick! Get in!” he called above the clatter of the wheels against the rails.

Sam ran and leaped to the floor of the boxcar, rolled to his knees and jumped to his feet in one motion. Then he leaned out and caught Remi by the wrist as she ran and pulled her in. Sergei followed as Gustaw tossed his rifle into the car but fell slightly behind.

Sergei grabbed Sam around the legs, allowing him to lean farther out the door and grasp Gustaw around one arm and haul him into the boxcar.

Sam found his gun, moved to the doorway, leaning out, as the Guard ran out to the tracks behind the last car. When they caught sight of Sam, they raced after the train, far too late.

Sam pushed away from the door, turning toward the others, glad to see everyone appeared unharmed. “Any chance you know where this stops next?”