Sabotage on the Solar Express, page 8
‘No. I spoke to him this morning.’
‘If there’s one card in Tennant Creek,’ Hal said, ‘and you have one . . .’
‘Francisco!’ Marianne gasped.
‘No,’ August shook his head. ‘Francisco wouldn’t . . .’
‘Then where is he?’ Uncle Nat asked quietly.
‘Um . . .’ Michelle raised her hand. ‘Could I take a look at the monitors? I’m not an expert on driving trains, but my undergrad degree was a BSc in computer science and physics, and my MSc is in computational physics. I might be able to help.’
Looking at Michelle as if he’d only just met her, August handed her his key card. ‘Be my guest.’
‘Do you have a password?’ Michelle asked, sitting down in the driver’s chair.
August leaned down and whispered something in her ear.
‘Oh Mr Reza, that’s not a very safe password. I would’ve guessed that on my second or third try.’ She shook her head. ‘When we get back to the office, you should change it.’
August straightened up, looking chastened.
Michelle tucked her hair behind her ears, then slotted the key card into the dashboard. The password entry screen flashed up on the left-hand screen. There was a strip of number keys beside the screen that were still working. She typed in August’s password, hitting return.
ACCESS DENIED, the screen read.
‘What?’ August leaned forward. ‘That’s not right. Try it again.’ Michelle removed the key card, reinserted it and typed the password in again.
ACCESS DENIED.
‘That’s the first thing I would do too,’ Michelle said. ‘I mean, if I was hijacking this train – which I’m not, obviously.’ She laughed nervously. ‘What I mean is –’ she looked at August – ‘when you find out your train has been sabotaged, the first thing you’re gonna do is hit the emergency brake – which you did – and when that didn’t work, you’d try the phone.’ She pointed. ‘And then you’d log into the journey software and try to rewrite it so that the train stops. That’s why they’ve scrambled the passwords, so you can’t log in.’
‘Wait.’ Hal held up his pen, pausing his sketch. ‘Whoever did this made assumptions about what we’d do when. But no one could have known that we’d bring the Rocket model on to the train, work out it was some kind of threat, and attempt to stop the train now.’ He looked around at their concerned faces. ‘We’re early. The saboteur can’t know that we’ve discovered what they’ve done to the train!’
‘Yes!’ August said, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes. ‘Right now, the Solar Express is travelling as it should be. The train tech team in Tennant Creek will think the journey is going as planned. I would’ve thought that everything was going smoothly too, if you hadn’t brought that blasted exploding engine in here.’
‘We’ve got a head start on the dingo,’ Boaz said. ‘We can work out what they’re up to and put a stop to it.’
‘But we don’t know how much of a head start we’ve got,’ Hal said.
‘I could try and hack into the computer system,’ Michelle suggested.
‘You’re a hacker?’ August looked shocked.
‘It’s just a hobby,’ Michelle muttered. ‘I’ve never managed to crack any of Francisco’s security encryptions.’
‘But you’ve tried?’ August pressed, and Michelle’s face went bright pink. She stuttered something inaudible about idle hours at university.
‘I doubt I’ll be able to rewrite the program, but I might be able to see what the new one is going to make the train do.’ Michelle slid off the chair on to her knees and pulled at the fibreglass panel at the back of the console desk. Boaz got down beside her and helped yank it free. Behind it was a tangle of wires, circuit boards and metal boxes.
‘What am I going to tell the passengers?’ August muttered, pulling at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger.
‘I think it’s best that you don’t tell them anything,’ Uncle Nat replied. ‘At least, not yet. If the saboteur’s plan is to destroy the Solar Express project before it’s had a chance to get investment and public backing, then we don’t want to play into their hands.’
‘We can’t tell the other passengers,’ Hal agreed. ‘One of them could be the saboteur. If we tell them, we may lose our head start.’ He flicked back to the picture he’d drawn of all the guests in the lounge, studying them.
There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone thought about the other passengers, wondering if the saboteur was on the train.
‘Yes. We must keep this a secret from everyone else,’ August said, sounding relieved. ‘Including your father, Boaz.’
Boaz didn’t look happy about this, but he nodded.
‘We’ve only got a small window of time to work out what the saboteur is planning,’ Hal said. ‘Let’s get to work.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TOTAL RECALL
‘How long have we been in the driver’s cabin?’ Marianne asked. ‘It’ll look suspicious if we’re in here too long.’
‘Yes,’ Hal agreed. ‘I’m going to explore the train and find somewhere to draw and think.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Uncle Nat said.
‘Me too.’ Marianne linked her arm through her bodyguard’s. ‘Come on, Woody. I want you to follow me now.’
‘Boaz, Michelle and I will work on the train’s computer,’ August said. ‘We’ve got a bit of time before we have to invite the next group in for the talk.’
‘You’re still going to give them a tour of the driver’s cabin?’ Uncle Nat was surprised.
‘It’s best to continue as normal.’ August nodded. ‘If one of the passengers is the saboteur, they might give themselves away. We’ll be on the lookout for any odd questions or behaviour.’
‘Good idea,’ Hal said.
‘We should go.’ Marianne went to the door.
As they passed through the lounge, into the dining car, Hal studied Leslie and Terry, who were still being interviewed by Tom and Kira. Could one of them be the saboteur?
In the dining car, they found Vincent trying to stop JJ from grabbing food from a silver trolley, set up for the lunch service.
‘No, JJ. That’s not for you. I’ve got snacks in my bag. Come away.’
‘I need wee-wee,’ JJ replied, dancing about.
The observation pod was a giant white chrysalis with an asymmetrical mosaic of unusually shaped windows stretching from the floor to the apex of the roof. A long double-sided seat snaked down the middle of the carriage, so people could sit back-to-back admiring the view. At night, they could lie down and look up through the roof at the star-speckled sky. The dazzling whiteness of the carriage made the vermilion earth and cobalt sky outside seem even more vivid. The deeper into Australia he travelled, the redder the earth seemed to get. Hal understood why this part of the great continent Oceania was named the Red Centre.
‘What a wonderful room to see the world from,’ Uncle Nat said. ‘It feels like an art gallery.’
The low, rhythmic vibrations of a didjeridu played through hidden speakers. Hal heard a second didjeridu, higher pitched than the first, making animal-like calls. A shaker and a chiming bell punctuated the rhythm of the mesmerizing music. Hal found himself calming down. ‘I like it in here,’ he said, taking a seat. ‘It’s a good place to draw.’
‘Isn’t it cool?’ Marianne sat down beside him. ‘I saw the designs but it’s much better in real life.’
Woody stood beside the door. Uncle Nat talked politely to him, though the bodyguard only ever nodded or shook his head and never took his eyes off Marianne.
‘Talk about disappointing,’ Karleen’s voice said, as the door at the far end of the pod opened and she, Kenny and Bobby came through it. ‘A pile of suitcases, a bathroom and some seats! After this carriage, I was expecting a portal to another dimension!’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Bobby wheezed. ‘It was nice to see the NR3 through the carriage door at the end of the train.
That’s my idea of a dependable locomotive. This futuristic stuff makes me nervous.’
‘You crack me up, Bobby.’ Karleen chuckled. ‘You’re the sweetest soul.’
‘Let’s see if there’s any of that champagne left in the lounge,’ Kenny suggested.
‘Bet Leslie Deane’s drunk it all,’ Karleen said, waving cheerily at Nat, Hal and Marianne as they passed. ‘She is a politician, after all.’
Bobby laughed and Kenny gave Woody a thumbs-up as he opened the door into the dining car. It clicked shut behind them.
‘You don’t really think someone on this train could be the person who cut those wires, do you, Hal?’ Marianne asked. ‘They would be putting themselves in danger.’
‘We don’t know what the saboteur’s plan is. If they want to destroy the credibility of Boaz’s train, it might not be dangerous. And we don’t know if it’s one person. It could be two, or more.’ He sighed. ‘You are right, though, those wires could’ve been cut before the train left the station by someone not on this train.’
Hal flicked back through the pages of his sketchbook, and then an idea occurred to him.
‘Marianne, do you think you could draw the person who left the Rocket model for your dad? You’re the only person who saw him. I think we can be certain he’s involved in all of this.’
‘I’m not like you,’ Marianne protested. ‘I draw cartoons, not real people.’
‘Just try.’ Hal passed her the pad and pen.
Marianne received them reluctantly, paused, then drew an oval for a head. She sketched in a nose, and started to shade in a beard, but then scribbled it out. ‘No! That’s all wrong.’ She started again. After the third face had been scribbled out, Marianne let out a cry of frustration.
‘Urgh! I can’t do it.’ She shoved the pad and pen back at Hal. ‘When I try and draw him, the picture ends up looking like an angry garden gnome!’
‘How about you describe him and I draw?’ Hal offered, turning to a fresh page. ‘Let’s start with the face.’ He drew an egg shape, then lightly quartered it. ‘The eyes are halfway down the head. What did they look like? Were they close together or far apart?’
‘Neither. They were normal. His eyes opened wide when he saw me, then he narrowed them.’ She shuddered as she remembered. ‘I think they were a dark colour, like brown, but I’m not sure. There were deep lines around them, but not friendly smile crinkles.’
Hal worked away at his drawing, ageing the skin around the eyes, making the lids heavy and the pupils dark.
‘That’s pretty good!’ Marianne said, becoming excited. ‘He had bushy eyebrows with grey hairs in. The grey hairs and the wrinkles around the eyes were the things that make me think the man was as old as Pop, or maybe older.’
‘Good. Now, what about his nose?’
‘His nose was straight, a bit bulb-like at the end, but not big. Below that was a moustache that went out as far as the edges of his mouth, and he had a neatly trimmed beard that covered his chin, but not the sides of his face.’
‘A goatee? What about his hair? How was that styled?’
‘He had a high forehead.’ Marianne closed her eyes. ‘His fringe was swept back from his face, showing a receding M-shaped hairline, and there were lines across his forehead.’ She opened her eyes and pointed at the picture. ‘In front of his ears – which were normal, they didn’t stick out or anything – were neat sideburns that stopped before his ear lobes.’ She paused and tilted her head. ‘The moustache hid his top lip, but his bottom lip was visible.’
Hal worked away at the picture, giving the man a neck and marking in the porter’s jacket.
‘Oh! Hal! That’s him!’ Marianne whispered. ‘That’s the man that left the Rocket model at Pop’s door!’
They both stared down at the picture.
‘I’ve never seen him before,’ Hal said with certainty.
‘Woody, come look at this picture.’ Marianne called the bodyguard over. ‘Have you seen this man?’
Woody and Uncle Nat crowded over the picture, but neither of them recognized the face on the page.
‘I bet Pop will know who he is!’ Marianne jumped to her feet. ‘We have to go show him right now.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TRUE LIES
‘Come on.’ Marianne grabbed Hal’s sketchbook and rushed out of the observation pod. Hal got up to follow her and noticed that Uncle Nat and Woody were having a quiet exchange of words.
‘Woody?’ Hal pointed at the door. ‘Marianne just left.’
Woody nodded at Uncle Nat, then hurried after Marianne.
‘What were you talking to Woody about?’ Hal was curious.
‘We, er . . .’ Uncle Nat stopped himself and sighed. ‘I’m not going to sugar-coat this, Hal. You’re not a baby. Woody and I have decided to work on . . . damage limitation.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Michelle, Boaz and August are trying to take back control of the locomotive. You and Marianne are investigating who our saboteur could be. Woody and I . . . well, we’re looking at worst-case scenarios and trying to, um, limit any damage.’
‘By doing what?’
‘By preparing for a crash,’ Uncle Nat said bluntly. ‘Until we can stop the train, we have to consider it as a possibility. The rear carriage is the furthest away from impact and therefore the safest. It has standard seats, which will give protection if people are in the brace position. We were discussing stripping the other carriages of all soft furnishings, to cushion any impact.’
‘You think the train is actually going to crash?’ Hal tried to swallow. His mouth was suddenly dry.
‘No. That’s not what I said. What I said was, we were running through worst-case scenarios and working out what we should do if we crash. It’s a very big if. I trust August will find a solution, but if he doesn’t –’ he drew in a long breath – ‘I want to have done everything I can to keep you safe.’ He gave Hal an unconvincing smile.
Hal’s stomach twisted. Despite all he and Uncle Nat had been through together, he’d never seen his uncle frightened – until now.
‘Boaz will find a solution,’ Hal said. ‘I know he will. It’s his train.’
Uncle Nat nodded.
There was no sign of Vincent or JJ as they passed back through the dining car, but the dessert trolley showed evidence of them having been there. The trolley held seventeen plates topped with cream-filled pastries drizzled in chocolate sauce. Four on the middle shelf had been pounded flat by a small fist. Cream was splattered everywhere. Hal paused, then took a cake from the top shelf and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth.
‘Hal!’ Uncle Nat exclaimed.
‘If we are going to crash,’ Hal mumbled, his mouth full of delicious chocolate and cream, ‘then we should eat the cakes while we can.’
Uncle Nat stared at him for a second, then looked at the cakes. He picked one up, opened his mouth wide and put the whole thing in too.
They entered the lounge grinning, wiping chocolate from their mouths, only to find Marianne, Woody, Tom and Kira having a heated discussion.
‘How dare you ask me that!’ Marianne had one hand on her hip. The other was clutching Hal’s sketchbook. ‘Woody, punch him.’
‘Now, now, I’m only doing my job. I’m a journalist, remember . . .’ Tom backed away, glancing fearfully at Woody, who didn’t move.
Kira was grinning and pointing the camera at Tom, recording his grovelling on film.
‘I apologize unconditionally.’ Tom held his hands up as if Woody’s glare were a gun, pointing at him. ‘I thought you might want to tell the world your side of the story . . .’
‘Well, I don’t,’ Marianne snapped. ‘Stories don’t have sides, and people who say they do are liars trying to make trouble.’
‘Fine by me,’ Tom babbled. ‘Totally cool. Whatever you want.’
‘Where’s everyone else?’ Uncle Nat asked, changing the subject.
‘In the driver’s cabin,’ Kira replied. ‘We couldn’t fit. It’s pretty crowded in there.’
‘And you must be, ahhh . . .’ Tom glanced down at the notepad on the seat beside him and read from the page. ‘Nathaniel Bradshaw, the well-known travel writer!’ He pointed his microphone at Uncle Nat. ‘You must have some choice words for us. I’d really love to hear what you think of the Solar Express. Maybe you’d like to plug your new book too? An interview will only take ten minutes.’ He smiled pleadingly, his eyes darting nervously towards Woody every few seconds.
‘I don’t have a book to plug right now,’ Uncle Nat replied, ‘but I’d happily talk to you about how much I approve of August Reza’s pioneering vision and Boaz’s inspired regenerative fuel cell. It puts me in mind of the condensing steam locomotive, turning used steam back into water to be sent through the boiler again, prolonging the length of time a train could travel without stopping.’
Woody relaxed and stepped back.
‘Thank you,’ Tom Flinch muttered. ‘My life was flashing before my eyes.’
Marianne had gone to sit as far away from the journalists as possible. Hal dropped down beside her.
‘We can’t show Pop your drawing till everyone comes back out of the cabin,’ she said with a heavy sigh.
‘That doesn’t mean we stop investigating.’ Hal took the sketchbook from her and turned to the drawing of all the passengers. He looked up at the screen that showed the route to Tennant Creek. They were nearly a fifth of the way through the journey. ‘We need to consider the motives and the means of everyone on this train.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘First, Tom Flinch and Kira Tate. Why might they sabotage the train?’
‘Because they’re dumb.’ Marianne glared at them. Whatever Tom had asked her had really upset her.
‘Or, perhaps, because Tom is hunting for a big story that will make the prime time news?’ Hal raised his eyebrows, giving her a meaningful look.
‘Oh!’ Marianne perked up, remembering the scene they’d witnessed in the conference room the previous evening. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘So that he can get a job in London with the BBC?’
