Page 91 of Surge

Good question. “Modern-day trains don’t have cabooses. Bullet trains have operation cabs at the front and back, so fast-rope down to the train, anchor onto the roof, shimmy down to the roof hatch, and drop in.”

“At three hundred fifty kilometers an hour?” Caldwell balked.

Garrett lifted a shoulder in a shrug. He really appreciated the shock in the spook’s expression. “We’re SEALs. We’ve done worse.”

“You’re insane.”

“Me? You’re the one who wants to bomb a seven-billion-dollar bullet train.” Garrett rubbed his jaw. “Look, we don’t need to destroy the train. We just need to stop it. So, we get aboard. There’s a driver, so we either make him slow it, or we slow it. That’ll keep the US on good terms with Indonesia and give Damocles time to assemble a team to help locals interdict the chemicals.”

“That’s . . . a lot of uncertainty.”

“Right now, it’s the best we have. We cannot let them get the chemicals to Surabaya.” Garrett watched Zim packing some C4 and detonator wires into his tac vest.

“Just in case,” the guy said with a shrug.

“Zim and I fast-rope down to the Whoosh. Frank falls back”?—he caught the pilot’s eye —“but stays close enough for a quick exfil. We get Thompson harnessed up, and you bring her to safety. Tricky and dangerous, but if this goes south, it’s better that she’s not aboard. Then Zim and I work our way to the engineer and force him to stop the train outside Surabaya.”

Caldwell puffed a breath, looked to the pilot. “Can you do that? Lower them to a speeding train?”

The pilot shrugged. “I’m a go if you are.”

“Let’s do it,” Zim said.

Garrett still didn’t trust Caldwell—not sure he ever would—but he did trust God. “Let’s do it.”

“Five mikes to the train,” Frank answered.

Garrett shifted to the edge of the bird and moved to the jumpseat, the terrain blurring beneath his boots.

Caldwell climbed next to the door, holding his position, shouting to be heard. “Once we get to the train, you’ll have twenty mikes to stop it.”

“Three mikes!” the pilot shouted.

Nodding, Caldwell readied the fast-rope. “If you fail, the hydrogen cyanide coffee beans get to the States. Then you can face Chapel and thousands of families whose loved ones died.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” Stuffing his hands into the thick gloves, Garrett nodded. “Warn Chapel.” He pinned Caldwell with his gaze. “We’ll need a team to intercept the LD3s before the Sachaai realize what happened and send their people for them.”

Caldwell reached for his SAT phone.

“Two mikes!”

Zim looked Garrett up and down and patted his shoulder, assuring him his gear was ready.

“Wait till Rogue is ready, then come down with a harness for her. I’ll get Rogue off, then you come,” Garrett said.

“Copy that, Boss.”

With a nod, Garrett shifted his glance. Held the rope, coiled his right leg around the part whipping in the wind. He swiveled around, gave one more nod, and hopped out into the dark night and let gravity yank him downward.

16

SURABAYA, INDONESIA

At least theyhad a little air conditioning on this bullet train. Delaney supposed there were products on board that wouldn’t do well in Indonesian heat. Still, she was getting hot, and her legs were falling asleep underneath Surge’s seventy pounds. She massaged his shoulders, shifted her weight.

They sat against a shipping container right across from the loading door—the rock-weapon right next to her—so they could slip out immediately when the train stopped. Somehow. Somebody from Sachaai would be picking up the LD3s, right? Could she follow them to Cantika and not be seen? She hoped so. She wasn’t sure what else to do.

Delaney looked at her SAT phone. Still no bars, and that power bar was slowly but surely dropping. The team would know the train she was on, where it’d left. But what if they were delayed? So many things had already gone wrong that she couldn’t count on it to be simple.

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