The Hound of Hell Read online

  With every step he takes, Renault winces and curses. Their worst fears had come to fruition. They penetrated the master infiltrators. He assumes Drake ran into just as much trouble as himself.

  Renault walks through the car and enters a double-decker car. The pervasive feeling of being watched sends his nerves on high alerts. He doubles back and walks down into the lower level car, reserved for the waiters, cooks, and other staff.

  The canary suited man notices him first. He gives his cohorts a signal with his index finger pointing down. He’s downstairs. Four of them descend the stairwell after him.

  Renault comes up with a plan, or rather a last-minute improvisation. He finds a wardrobe of waiter’s uniforms and steals a pair. The extra-large coat comes in handy. Renault preps his throwing knives, and the extra slack gives him more flexibility.

  In less than 30 seconds, he changed into the waiter’s uniform. Avoiding eye contact, he emerges from the dressing room and lifts a hollowware serving tray.

  As he makes his way through the car, he spots two of the men pursuing him. Renault places food items on his tray, filling it up to the top on purpose. Within seconds, he slips his hands into position. Renault readies his fingers and places it on one of his daggers.

  When the waiters clear the kitchen to deliver lunch, the men scrutinize Renault closer. Their hands twitch as they touch the butts of their speed shooters. With uncanny speed, Renault pushes the tray up into the air. He reaches into his flap jacket with both hands and throws two daggers in synchronicity. One lodges into a man’s eye socket. He yells in excruciating pain, drops to the ground and spasms.

  The other knife is not a perfect throw for a kill shot. Although the edge penetrates through his chin and gums, he wails in agony. When the tray lands into Renaults hands, he pulls off the domed lid and launches the steaming stew at the man. The hot plate smacks the foe in the head, chips his forehead. A deep laceration opens on the back of his skull. He falls to the floor, unconscious, amid the muck of hot food.

  Taking advantage of the panic caused in the melee, Renault runs into the dressing room and retrieves his bag. Passengers witnessing the aftermath cry out in fear. Women scream. Mayhem erupts.

  He enters the kitchen and spots a food cart with a white linen draped over it. Renault brushes the food off the cart and hides underneath. His pursuers enter.

  They riffle through storage bins, pantries and cupboards. As a foe inches closer to his cart, Renault removes his knife and readies with anticipation. He crouches with his feet curled into his chest. When the foe comes within an easy shot of him, Renault snaps his feet out and connects with the man painfully.

  The force hurls him across the counter so violently, his neck snaps back against the wall, severing his vertebrae and killing him. His head bangs hard against the back wall.

  Renault pushes the cart forward and ducks down in the kitchen area. An aimless bullet touches his shoulder. He fires his pistol, blowing a foe through the back wall and killing him. Several more shots ring out. Renault drops to the ground, trying to find out where they are coming from.

  Renault spies a large cooking oil drum and thinks of an idea. He abandons the notion since he wants to avoid burning the train and killing the innocent passengers. One man hides his breathing as he creeps toward Renault.

  Many sharp, metallic cooking utensils hang on a shelf nearby. Renault jars the shelf and spills the utensils. As the rain of utensils fall, he hears the foe cry. Renault fires off several rounds, hitting him in the neck and torso. Seconds later, silence.

  Since Renault senses the last man gaining on him, he fires on the lamps. So, with the room pitch dark, his other senses heighten. He concentrates for several excruciating seconds, emptying his mind of everything.

  I’ll wait for him to empty his gun and I’ll emerge from this bench and kill him. Less than twenty feet away is the bench in question. Renault reloads his gun. He sneaks from behind the large table and fires, hitting the man through the chest, neck, and shoulders. He cries out as the bullets pierce his vulnerable flesh. Seconds later, he is quiet.

  Renault emerges from the kitchen and changes back into his clothes, taking his bag with him.

  As he ascends the stairs, two marshals block his way to the top. They observe his disheveled appearance and his profuse sweating. One marshal questions Renault. “So, where are you heading to, Sai?”

  “Upstairs. Away from all this craziness. Where else would I be heading?”

  “Mayhaps you were the one causing all the hubbub? You look as if you’ve been in a tussle yourself.”

  “I was attacked by two assailants I’ve never met before.”

  The marshals eye his bag with suspicion. “Well, Sai. I’m sure your story will check out, but we need to check your bag.”

  Renault sighs in feigned resignation and walks forward. “Of course, Marshal. I’d be happy to cooperate with your inquiry.”

  The marshals breathe a sigh of relief. As the older marshal reaches for his bag, Renault seizes and twists his wrist. He stops just short of breaking it. Renault shoots a fist with a lightning quick jab to the marshal’s chin. His knees buckle and drops to the ground.

  The other deputy has no time to react before Renault’s deadly jab catches him in the face. He flies back, hits his head on the railing, and knocks the deputy unconscious.

  (2)

  With the train’s marshal either dead or immobilized, Fallsbander and Trey venture to the engineering deck. A scruffy bearded, rotund man named Peters is about to berate them until Fallsbander draws his gun. “I need into the engineering deck, Sai. You’ll escort us there. You ken?”

  “Of course,” answers Peters with reluctance. “Don’t want no trouble, so I don’t.”

  “You’re about to get a lead full of trouble, if you don’t hurry your fat ass, Sai.”

  “Follow me,” states Peters.

  Once they reach the engineering deck, the conductor turns around and gives them a rueful, what the fuck look. “Peters, what the fuck you doing up here? You’re supposed to be manning the engine room,” bemoans Corden, a deckhand.

  Fallslander and Trey point their guns at him. “Oh, of course.” He stammers, trying in vain to swallow, but the lump formed in his throat stops him.

  “We don’t keep any gold on this line, gents, so whatever you're after-”

  Fallsbander cuts him off. “Shut the fuck up! All you need to do is continue driving this rig and keep your fucking mouth shut. You ken?”

  “Of course. At your service.”

  “Crank up the power on this thing. Full speed ahead,” instructs Fallslander.

  “We’ll blow out the pistons if we go full speed for too long. Besides, there’s a series of switchbacks coming up. We go full speed and we’ll go right off the fucking tracks. You’ll kill us all.”

  Fallslander takes the pistol and smashes it across Corden’s face. “You do as you’re told, or it will be your fucking brains all over this glass partition. You ken?”

  “Ai,” answers Corden. “It seems I have no choice.”

  “Trey here is familiar with this model and you try and get any ideas or signal to anyone, he’ll know, and we’ll drive this thing without you.”

  Corden nods.

  “If he deviates from the plan in the least, put a fucking bullet in his head and take over,” commands Fallslander.

  “Where are you going?” questions Trey.

  “I’m going to put that fucking hound out of his misery. Once and for all.”

  Chapter 12: Full Speed Ahead

  After immobilizing the two marshals, Renault walks into the second floor of the car. He takes advantage of the chaotic situation the gunshots caused. Most passengers have left the cars and congregated on the balconies and decks. Renault walks through the car. It is relatively empty save for a few passengers who opted to stay put.

  He exits out of the dining car and into one of the leisure cars. When he approaches the middle, he notices four men in canary and burgund
y suits eyeing him like a hawk. He tips an invisible hat, smiles, and bows. A fraction of a second later, he grabs his speed shooters. With one in each hand, he fires off two rounds. They find their mark, one in a man’s chest and the other in a man’s right shoulder. The man hit in the right shoulder cries out in agony. Renault opens up one of the wardrobe compartments and rushes inside. The rest of the men return fire. Their bullets eat a crazy zig-zag pattern, busting the windows, and splintering wooden benches. Chunks of splintered wood peep up from the floorboards.

  When the barrage of gunfire stops, Renault removes steel tripwire from his bag. He sets up the trap in the cabin. It is nearly invisible to the naked eye but extremely powerful, unbreakable except with only the sharpest of knives.

  Renault strings it around every conceivable place in the cabin within the room in seconds. He heads out the window. Precariously balancing on a narrow ledge, Renault grasps onto metal rivets for handholds. He moves along the train’s side.

  He slides along the ledge and across the compartment, nearly slipping off twice. With quick reflexes, Renault ducks as a barrage of gunfire peppers the room he came from. He approaches the next window to check and see if pursuers are there to cut him off.

  Renault reaches up with his hands and curls himself into a ball. He tries in desperation to keep his sweaty hands from losing their grip on the rivets. Renault shoots his legs out and shatters the glass window. He drops into the next cabin with a heavy thud and shakes off the bits of glass.

  Once inside the cabin, he searches his bag and retrieves the pulley system used for the steel wires. Renault funnels the end through the holes and tunnels and ties it off inside his bag. He flips the relay switch, ensuring it’s taut by placing his thumb along the wire and pulling it. It barely gives. He listens intently for the men to enter the room next to him.

  He hears movement inside the next room and flips the relay switch. The effects are instantaneous and deadly. The trip wire tightens through the pulley system. As the two men walk into the cabin, they set off the trip wires and are pulled into a deadly vise. The steel wires push through their clothing and their skin so tightly they find it difficult to breathe. Both men cry out in excruciating pain as the wires penetrate through their skin while cutting off their circulation. They cry out in piercing wails, caught in a vise of death.

  Fallslander is about to step inside but hesitates and stops his two cohorts with a gesture. “He’s in the next cabin over,” he says. “You two roust him out, but he’s mine to finish off. You ken?”

  They nod in assent. One foe busts the cabin door open with a swift kick. The door slams open and splinters in a crash. The men step inside and look around. One looks in the direction of one of the suitcases piled high in the cabin and looks through intently.

  As he peers closer, the suitcase flies straight at him, smashing him in the head. He yelps in surprise. Renault jumps down while firing off rounds at the men. Blood spurts from their wounds in copious amounts, drenching everything around them.

  Renault looks around to fire another round, but his gun is knocked from his grip. The sharp metallic boomerang grazes his hand, and he winces in pain.

  And so, he comes face to face with the giant. Fallslander rears up for another deadly throw but Renault stops him. Renault throws one of his knives from his vest. The simultaneous action throwing their weapons at each other causes a fraction of a second stalemate. Renault’s knife slams into the metallic boomerang, causing Fallslander to lose his grip on it. He winces in agony as blood seeps from his hand.

  In a moment of indecision, Renault hurls himself at Fallslander. Renault lunges and collides with him, knocking him against the wall, head going first. Fallslander dazes for a moment and Renault launches blow after blow. Lacerations open on Fallslander’s face and blood spatters.

  Renault launches several more blows, hoping to finish the giant. But the brute is far from finished. As Renault fires many punches towards his face, Fallslander blocks several and jabs in return.

  One particular punch catches the side of Renault’s face. He stumbles back several feet, dazed. Fallslander, pushes himself off his hands and braces himself against the wall, firing out his legs like pistons.

  He connects painfully with Renault’s chest, knocking him back several feet and into the other wall. Renault hits his head and appears dazed but looks at Fallslander and sprints for him.

  When he is nearly upon him, Renault stops, pivots and launches a powerful kick into Fallslander. Fallslander absorbs it at the last minute by bringing down his hands to block it.

  Fallslander counters with a lightning quick jab toward Renault’s face, but he blocks it. He twists toward Fallslander and strikes out with a palm strike towards his throat.

  He blocks the palm strike, twists his body around and drives a vicious uppercut into Renault’s midsection. Renault bellows over for the moment. But he rears up in time to block a devastating elbow thrust into his back.

  He sweeps his left foot, connecting with Fallslander’s ankle and he topples over. Renault removes one of his knives from his flap jacket and lunges for Fallslander’s throat. But at the last second, Fallslander brings up his elbow to stop the blade from penetrating his vulnerable skin. For several seconds, they are at another impasse. Renault pushes harder on the knife toward his throat, while Fallslander blocks it with his forearm. Fallslander places his left leg on the ground in a bent position. His other foot pinions his body. Fallslander uses his strength from his quadriceps and his superior weight to drive himself up into Renault.

  Renault topples over, while Fallslander gears up in haste and sprints for Renault. Before Renault rises, he drives the tip of his boot into Renault with force. This causes Renault to double up in pain. As he attempts another kick, Renault rears up himself and blocks the kick with his forearm, grunting in pain.

  Fallslander uses his second of incapacitation to slam his fist into Renault’s shoulder, stunning him. Before he can react, Fallslander throws him back against the wall and runs at him. He slams into Renault and sends him through the wall on the other side.

  With the wind knocked out of him, Renault attempts to suck in air. Fallslander observes they are in a baggage compartment car. He opens the sliding metal door and grabs a pitch hook from the hanging tool bin. While Renault recovers from the painful hit, he smashes the pitch hook into Renault.

  Renault brings up his boots in time to catch the steel hook with his feet. The blade penetrates through his thick boot and lodges several inches into his skin. He cries out in excruciating pain as blood seeps from the wound.

  Through the open doors, the car pushes Renault across. In desperation, he grabs onto something but there is nothing to anchor him in. His knees bunch up into his chest. The blade’s sharp point bites into his skin. The feel of driving him across the wooden floor is more than grating to his skin. But it does have the added effect of slowing down his progress.

  He has only one chance at this. In unbelievable pain, he plants his hands down into the wooden floor, causing several slivers to penetrate his hands. A second later, he flips up. Using the strength of his arms, he grabs onto one of the grappling hooks hanging in the car. He swings with force and connects with Fallslander’s head, knocking him down on the wooden floor. His head goes slack, and Fallslander slumps to the floor in a heap.

  Renault swings the grappling hook toward the lever which opens the cargo hold. The doors fly open on its track system.

  Renault wastes no time. He seizes the grappling hook and pierces the sharp point into Fallslander’s side. Fallslander screams in an agonizing, high-pitched wail. Renault hoists up the grappling hook with an attached chain. Then he uses the lever next to it to swing the grappling hook toward the outside. When it nearly reaches the end of the track, Renault puts the brake on hard. The sudden movement swings the grappling hook, releasing Fallslander from its clutches. He wails in excruciating pain and flies out of the car. Renault doesn’t bother to see where Fallslander lands. The door shuts a
nd locks.

  The train car shimmies and shakes precariously around a turn, almost coming off its tracks. It’s moving much too fast and will fly off the tracks. Of course. No witnesses. Witnesses would be messy.

  Renault heads out of the car. As soon as he turns a corner, he nearly takes a violent slash to his neck. Fortunately, he brings up his forearm in time to deflect it. He kicks out with his front foot, but the kick is absorbed with the man’s ankle bone.

  He feels a lurking presence behind him. Renault frees one hand long enough to extract one of his knives in his flap jacket. With the slightest of peripheral glances, he throws the knife toward the other assailant. The knife lodges deep into the man’s eye socket.

  The man in front of him uses his inattention to launch an elbow toward his face. Renault ducks. The man pushes Renault. In a quick adjustment, Renault repositions his hand. He uses the man’s momentum and swings him into a glass partition.

  As the man hurdles into the glass, Renault extracts two of his knives. The man recovers. When his head bobs up, Renault throws the knives with lightning quick accuracy. The first throw hits the man deep in the throat. The second one lodges into his chest cavity, straight for his heart. He topples over, trying in vain to inhale breath as blood seeps from his nostrils.

  Renault retrieves his bag and pulls out his 12-shooter. He fires at the man who is slowly recovering from being thrown into a glass partition, killing him.

  Renault steps out onto one of the car’s balconies and looks ahead. Another sharp corner is coming up, and if they continue at this speed, they will careen off the tracks.

  Careful not to go too fast, Renault walks to the front car. There could be more men lurking around any corner.

  He reaches the front of the car which is the engine room. He peers in and sees two gentlemen working on the engine. One man is shoveling coal into the hotbox, while another man is venting the engines.

  Renault takes no chances, walks in, and points his gun at them. The men turn around to him. “Do you men know how to disconnect this car from the rest of the line?”