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Chapter 66 - Ghosts of the North Line

The wind hit us like a physical blow. We were traveling at sixty miles an hour along a narrow ledge carved into the sheer granite face of the northern mountains. Below us, a drop of two thousand feet plunged straight into a frozen gorge choked with jagged pines and churning, ice-choked rapids.

The sky was a sullen, bruised slate, and heavy snowflakes began to whip across the iron roof, stinging our exposed skin.

"We can't stay on the roof!" Clara yelled into my ear, her teeth chattering from the sudden Arctic chill. "The tunnel clearances ahead will shear us off!"

Ahead, the black mouth of the North Viaduct tunnel loomed like a gaping maw in the granite wall.

"The coupling platform!" I pointed down toward the gap between the cargo car and the rear observation carriage.

We crawled along the wet spine of the train, fighting the gale-force wind and the violent rocking of the suspension. Dropping down between the shuddering buffers, we landed on the narrow, diamond-plate steel platform connecting the two cars.

The heavy steel door leading into the observation carriage was locked from the inside, its reinforced glass port covered by a sliding steel blind.

I drew Harrison’s phoenix keycard and swiped it through the exterior emergency reader beside the door frame. The scanner blinked red once, twice, then clicked amber.

*ACCESS RESTRICTED — BIOMETRIC VALIDATION REQUIRED.*

"It needs Vance blood," Clara realized, looking at me.

I didn't hesitate. I sliced my palm across the jagged edge of the steel latch housing, smearing my blood across the optical scanner.

The mechanism whined. The heavy solenoid bolts retracted with a solid *clack*, and the pressurized door slid open six inches, releasing the smell of warm mahogany, vintage leather, and high-grade cigar smoke.

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Inside, sitting at a long conference table beneath low-hanging crystal lamps, were four private security contractors in heavy plate carriers.

And at the end of the car, seated behind an antique desk with a glass of scotch in hand, sat Cynthia Vance.

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