Page 45 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love

And was now sailing straight into the sea below.

For a moment, Harry and I both lifted off the ladder, floating in mid-air as the train glided off the cliff.

Then with a crash, the entire locomotive tremored.

Harry and I hit the floor, and through the portholes the view of the sky turned into a view of the ocean, a curtain of gushing bubbles parting to reveal the deep blue sea.

At the same time, the train began to groan and clatter.

I heard the clang of gears shifting, cogs turning, pipes hissing, metallic bones bending, giving the distinct impression that the entire train was, in fact, in the process of metamorphosis…

Changing its steering mechanisms…

Altering its form and function…

Adapting to an entirely new realm.

As the floor beneath me quaked and settled, as the iron walls shuddered then seemed to embrace the atmosphere outside—the water pressing down upon it with greater force than air—I picked myself up, my ears popping.

“What the fuck just happened?” I asked Harry, helping him up at the same time. “Did this train just turn into—”

“A submarine?” said a voice from the front of the car. “How astute of you, Mr. Baxter.”

Harry and I both turned to see Howard Hart at the front of the carriage, holding a gun trained on us. Beside him was Herr Hammer, this time holding Stella in his grip, her legs wriggling and desperately trying to kick him.

“Just move a little to the left and your nuts are mine,” she spat through clenched teeth, squirming in his arms.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Harry pleaded. “You need to let us all go. This is madness.”

“Madness?” Howard challenged sternly. “My dear, deluded, pathetic son. What you call madness, I call the future. Although unfortunately for you and your friends, the future ends here. I had every intention of taking you to Berlin with me, but it seems your boyfriend here has rubbed off on you. You’re a lot more trouble than I anticipated. How regrettable. But Hart Industries must always come first. Of course, it would be a pity to kill you in the dining car. Blood stains on this exquisite carpet may well ruin my appetite. Come, let us take you into the Presidential Suite. The others are waiting for us in there.”

Howard waved his gun while Hammer carried a twisting, jiggling Stella intothe next car.

As we walked, I noticed Howard’s exquisite carpet squish beneath my shoes.

I glanced over my shoulder.

The door to the passenger car behind us was still open…

And the door to the cargo car beyond that was open too…

Meaning that water was coming in through—

“The bullet hole in the window,” I murmured to myself.

“What was that?” Howard turned to glare at me.

“I said, nice view out the window.”

Howard smirked. “You should see the view through the periscope. Our target should be coming into range any minute.”

“What the hell are you plotting, Hart?”

The laugh that came from the tycoon was deep, devilish, and drenched in determination. “Something nobody is expecting. Something that will change everything. It’s time to send a message. A new world order is rising. It’s time to cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.”

With a shove of his gun, Howard pushed his son and me into the next car.

The lavish carriage was adorned with velvet curtains and Persian rugs, while on the leather chaise longue beneath a row of portholes sat Herr Garbutt, holding a gun into the side of Mrs. Hart. But it was the man I’d never seen before—wearing glasses that looked more like binoculars, and raising one hand that was in fact a steel ball with countless bizarre metal appendages jutting from it—who made my guts knot with dread.

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