Chapter 46 - Sabotage in the Fog
A heavy ground fog rolled down from the timberline at 10:45 PM, clinging to the frozen ballast of the tracks. The air smelled of sulfur, damp wood, and impending slaughter.
Beneath the yard, the ice-choked water of the drainage flume bit into Clara’s skin like needles. Caleb moved ahead of her, his combat knife drawn, silently feeling along the stone ceiling for the iron grating that marked the inspection pit.
Above them, the heavy tread of Thornton's sentries vibrated through the timbers.
*Thump. Thump. Thump.*
Caleb signaled with two taps on the stone wall. He braced his shoulders against the cast-iron grate, muscles straining until the rusted bolts gave way with a muffled pop. He hauled himself up into the black space beneath the train, extending a hand to pull Clara into the shadow of the train’s steel belly.
Through the fog outside, a blinding red flare hissed into the night sky from the town clocktower.
Instantly, shouting erupted across the yard. Klaxons wailed. Bootsteps pounded on gravel as dozens of privateers surged toward the main perimeter gate, expecting a frontal assault from the townsfolk.
"The yard is clear for three minutes," Caleb whispered, pulling two sticks of commercial dynamite from his canvas haversack. "I’ll wire the carriage axles. Get into the master car. Find the deeds."
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"Watch the rear vestibule," Clara cautioned. "Arthur never travels without his personal enforcer—a butcher named Cole."
Caleb gave her a grim nod. "If Cole shows up, he won't be traveling back."
