Sinners and Saints by Rick Jones

Author:Rick Jones [Jones, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-17T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

Kimball Hayden stood at the connecting threshold between cars H and G looking through the glass pane into G. Two people were lying on the floor, obviously deceased, a young woman, maybe late teens, and a young man, perhaps early twenties with a small backpack, who had been gunned down because they didn’t give enough of a wide berth for the assault unit who boarded, shouting commands in Korean which they probably didn’t understand. They simply did not respond fast enough.

Kimball took note and counted six hostiles who were wearing the garments of a commando unit, such as the composite shield guards, the Kevlar helmets, and the fact that each man carried an MP7. This was not a fly-by-night faction, Kimball considered, especially when their transports were a pair of Mil Mi-24s, this alone telling him that there could be a Russian tie here. But when he heard the commandos speak out aggressively, there was no doubt in Kimball’s mind who these people were: they were North Koreans.

He watched two of them move toward a specific room with their weapons leveled, no doubt knowing exactly where their mark was, and forced the door open to a particular roomette. The one taking lead directed his weapon at a man who looked like an unmade bed. And if there was ever a man who seemed less like a threat to anyone, Kimball considered, it was the man they were holding at gunpoint.

Kimball watched them from the corner of the window’s pane.

A second man entered the room, grabbed what appeared to be a canister, stepped back into the hallway, and unscrewed a cap from the bottom. Slowly retracting the cap and holding it up to the first commando, multi-colored lights pulsated from vials that contained what appeared to be glowing gems. The man in possession, however, was highly cautious as to how he handled them.

Then after a brief exchange of words that Kimball couldn’t quite hear, one soldier forcibly ushered the man into the corridor and to his knees. Seeing two bodies lying supine, the disheveled-looking man retched reflexively, though the heaves were dry.

There was a man standing sentinel close to Kimball’s position, a soldier who had his eyes trained to what was playing out at the other end of G-car. Here stood a possible opportunity, though the consequences of what followed could be too high should Kimball involve himself with the rules of engagement. But caution ruled and Kimball remained on the fence; the stakes for now too high, the odds too low.

“It appears that you have been given a choice as to which path to take,” whispered Becher.

Kimball turned to see the old man’s head peeking around the corner of their roomette. He was apparently on his hands and knees, his head no more than two feet above the floor.

“Get back inside,” Kimball whispered in return.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Kimball returned.

“Listen to me,” Becher whispered. “You think this is by chance?”

“What are you talking about?”

“A charter train commandeered by hostile forces.

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