The locomotive passed beneath them, gathering speed toward the tunnel beyond the terminal.
Gideon pulled away from Bennett.
“Victor removed the rods.”
“He said they were replaced.”
“He wanted them removed before you bought the Raven corridor. The sensors kept reporting movement, and repairs would have delayed the sale.”
Bennett stared at him.
“How would you know?”
“I refused to certify the replacement plan.”
“When?”
“Before you left.”
The Northstar’s final carriage disappeared into the tunnel.
Elena turned.
“How long until it reaches the bridge?”
Bennett looked at the clock.
“Thirty-eight minutes.”
Gideon shook his head.
“Less in this weather. The engineer will make up time after Mill Junction.”
Bennett called Victor again.
“Stop the Northstar at Mill Junction.”
“What?”
“Hold it until we inspect Raven Cut.”
“We have three hundred guests aboard and international press in the observation car.”
“Stop the train.”
Victor’s voice became flat.
“On whose authority?”
Bennett almost laughed.
“Mine.”
“You transferred route authority to operations for the launch. The dispatch center cannot accept an executive override without a declared emergency.”
“Then declare one.”
“Based on what evidence?”
Bennett looked toward Gideon.
The old man suddenly appeared uncertain again, rubbing the brass whistle between his palms.
Victor continued.
“An unexplained delay will trigger penalty clauses and may collapse the Harrington agreement. Give me ten minutes to confirm the data.”
“You have three.”
Bennett ended the call.
Elena saw something in his face.
“You don’t trust him.”
“I trust documents.”
“Documents are written by people.”
“And memories are damaged by illness.”
Gideon lifted the whistle.
“This belonged to Walter Pike.”
Bennett knew the name.
Walter had been a track inspector with a red beard and a habit of carrying peppermint candies. He had died when Bennett was fourteen.
“He was killed at Raven Cut,” Gideon said. “A retaining wall shifted. Management ignored six warnings because repairs were expensive.”
Bennett remembered the funeral.
He remembered his father standing in the rain without an umbrella.
“After Walter died,” Gideon continued, “I built the rod network so no man would be sent blind into moving earth again.”
His voice grew stronger.
“I made you help me drill the first casing. You complained for four hours.”
Bennett remembered the steel dust on his hands.
He remembered his father saying that a railway was not measured by the speed of its trains but by how many people returned home at the end of a shift.
The memory had been buried beneath years of deliberate contempt.
Elena went to the wall and picked up the internal service phone.
“Who are you calling?” Bennett asked.
“The platform supervisor.”
“You do not have authority.”
“I have a friend in dispatch.”
“Elena.”
She looked at him.
“Fire me tomorrow.”
She dialed.
“Marcus? It’s Elena. Which engineer is driving the Northstar?”
She listened.
“Can you connect me to his cab?”
Bennett approached.
“End the call.”
She held up one hand.
“Marcus, please. Tell him there may be a track emergency at Raven Cut.”
A pause.
“No, I don’t have a code.”
Her face tightened.
“What do you mean, Victor locked external communications?”
Bennett took the phone.
“This is Bennett Ashford. Override the lock.”
The voice on the other end became faintly audible.
“Sir, the system requires the operations code. Mr. Crane issued a communications restriction during the live broadcast.”
Bennett closed his eyes.
Victor had not asked for ten minutes to confirm the data.
He had asked for ten minutes to make the train impossible to stop.
“Where is the nearest manual signal station?”
“Cedar House,” Gideon said immediately.
Bennett looked at him.
“That station closed years ago.”
“The building closed. The relay did not.”
“How do you know?”
“I built it.”
Elena took her coat.
“How far?”
“Eight miles by the maintenance road,” Bennett said.
“In this storm?”
“I can reach it in twelve minutes.”
“You are not going alone,” Elena said.
Bennett looked toward Gideon.
The old man struggled to stand again.
“I am coming.”
“You can barely walk.”
“I can open the relay.”
Bennett hesitated.
Elena moved to Gideon’s side.
“Then we take him.”
Ten minutes later, Bennett’s armored sedan shot through the terminal gates.
Elena sat in the back with Gideon, holding him upright as the car crossed flooded streets.
Bennett drove.
His security team followed in another vehicle, but the storm quickly swallowed their headlights.
“Faster,” Gideon said.
“I am driving ninety.”
“You drove faster when you were sixteen.”
“I was stealing your truck.”
“You returned it without the left mirror.”
Elena looked between them.