The Stingray Shuffle полностью

Suddenly, the air was full of green paper, countless hundred-dollar bills swirling into the sky. Serge and Ivan looked up at the money, then at Sam standing over them, holding the handle of the flapping, empty briefcase. The pair crawled to the side of the car and got down on their stomachs to look over the edge of the train’s roof, watching in shock as the money gently fluttered down to the river and began floating toward the ocean.

They crawled back from the edge of the car and stood up. Serge pointed at the open case still in Sam’s hand. “What’d you do that for?”

“He was going to kill you!”

Serge and Ivan looked at each other and shook their heads. “Women.” They walked to the back of the roof and climbed down the ladder. Wild cheers erupted again as they entered the rear of the dining car. People shook their hands and slapped their backs. The drummer for —— walked up. “I couldn’t come through.” He handed Serge forty-three dollars.

The train approached the Okeechobee station. Teresa looked out the window. “We’re not slowing down.”

“What?” said Maria.

“We’re supposed to stop at this depot. We won’t be able to at this speed.”

She was right. The train blew right past the depot and the confused people on the platform.

“Was that supposed to happen?” asked Maria. “Maybe because the mystery program’s sold out?”

“Can’t be,” said Teresa. “They also handle parcels.”

“Do you think something’s wrong with the engineer?”

“We are going faster,” said Teresa.

The women made their way forward. When they got to the back of the engine, they found the train’s staff already on the case. They were trying to radio the engineer, but no answer.

“Why don’t you force your way in?” asked Teresa.

“We can’t,” said one of the staff. “You can only get into the engine from the outside. Prevents interference.”

“What about a backup guy?” said Rebecca. “In case of a heart attack or something?”

“That would be me,” said the staffer.

“But then why aren’t you up there? What are you doing back—”

“Look, I’m already in enough trouble.”

A man and his young son crouched in the woods just before sunset, out where Palm Beach County meets the Everglades. Their eyes focused on the train tracks a few yards away, a tight bend just past the clearing where Pratt & Whitney tests its jet engines. A shiny new Lincoln penny sat on one of the rails.

“Why are we doing this, Daddy?”

“To get a flat penny.”

“What for?”

“Because it’s fun!”

A train whistle blew in the distance. “Here she comes! Get down!”

The pair crouched and waited, the train growing closer. It was in sight before they knew it, nothing but a blur as it entered the bend and hit the penny. There was a harsh grinding of metal. The father and son watched in astonishment as The Silver Stingray jumped the tracks and twenty cars jackknifed down the embankment toward the swamp.

“Daddy? Did we do that?”

“How’d you like some ice cream?”

38

A half hour after sundown, flashlights split the darkness, wisps of smoke. The crew worked its way through the train lying on its side halfway down the embankment to the swamp. They came to the dining car, but the door was jammed and blocked by twisted metal. The crew banged on it. “Is everyone all right in there?”

“We’re fine,” a passenger yelled back. “Just some scrapes.”

“I think Preston’s dead,” yelled someone else. “But I think he was dead before. We’re not sure.”

“Everyone stay calm.” An emergency generator came on, then backup lights. The car was a mess, but it could have been much worse.

“Yep, we’re sure now,” the passenger yelled again. “Preston’s really dead.”

“Did you poke him?” yelled the crew member.

“Twice.”

“Stay put,” he shouted. “We’ll get you out, but it’s going to take a while. We have to cut through some big pieces of metal out here, and we only have a hacksaw.”

“What about the authorities? Won’t they send someone when we don’t show up?”

“Sure,” yelled the crew member. “But the remoteness of our location and the trickiness of the terrain complicate it a little. Also, we don’t really have an excellent on-time record, so they might not notice for a few more hours. But immediately after that, they’ll be right here.”

A naked, sobbing book critic from Miami wrapped herself in a towel and ran from the sleeping compartment to the dining car, followed by Johnny Vegas. “What’s the matter, baby? It’s just a little derailment.”

The train lurched a few feet as soil gave way on the embankment; passengers fell over. It was still again. People uprighted chairs in the diner and sat down on the left wall, bracing for a long wait.

“Nobody leave this car!”

They looked up. Serge strolled through the wreckage in his burgundy smoking jacket. He stopped next to Preston’s body.

“Someone murdered this man!” He turned around slowly. “And that someone is still in this room!”

The crew member banged on the door again. “I heard shouting. What’s going on in there?”

“Someone’s trying to solve a mystery,” yelled a passenger.

“Jesus! We just derailed! Don’t you people know when to quit!”