“Shit, man, don’t be fucking around,” he said, nervous, and I made out the silhouette of him below me. “Gimme the order. I got the cash.”
“Sorry, I’m new,” I said, improvising. “How big’s that order again?”
“It’s on your sheet, man,” he said, irritated. “Just open the hatch, get it, and we do business.”
I looked around. The wheel the rider had held on to. It controlled a hatch.
I walked to it, knelt, and got hold of the wheel. Turning counterclockwise didn’t work. Neither did turning it clockwise. Then I considered that the hatch might be under spring tension. I put my weight on it, felt something depress, and twisted. The wheel turned clockwise.
When I heard a noise like unbuckling, I lifted. Up came the hatch lid, and the air was filled with a pleasant vanilla scent. I cupped the mini-Maglite I always carry, turned it on. Suspended beneath the hatch was an aluminum basket of sorts, about three feet deep and two feet in diameter. The flashlight beam shone through large holes in the walls of the basket, revealing dozens of yellow-paper packages each about the size of a large bar of soap. Some were banded together. Others were single.
“C’mon, man,” the guy said. “Train’s gonna leave ’fore—”
The train wheels squealed. The tanker lurched. I almost fell. I almost let go of the hatch lid, the basket, and whatever was in it.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Hey, shit, man!”
“Couldn’t be helped,” I called down. “Something wrong with the mechanism. I’ll put your order in for a ten-twenty delivery tomorrow night. You’ll get a discount.”
A pause. “How much?”
“Ten percent,” I yelled as we pulled away.
“Deal, man, that’ll work.”
I waited until he was far behind me, then sat with my legs spread against the walls of the hatch. I moved around the basket, inspecting it with the flashlight, and found a hinged door. I opened it, removed three of those yellow-paper packages. Each of them weighed about a pound.
My phone rang then. It was Bree.
“Where are you?” she asked anxiously. “I’ve been calling you.”
“We went off the plateau and there were tunnels, and I have no idea where I am.”
“You talk to the rider?”
I told her all that had happened.
“Jesus, he jumped?”
“I couldn’t believe it, like it was better to die than talk to me and face this Grandfather’s wrath.”
“You think Marvin Bell is Grandfather?”
“It seems likely.”
“So, drugs in the yellow packages?”
“I’m assuming so,” I said. “Ingenious, if you think about it. Using the trains.”
“It is. You going to stay on the train and see where it takes you?”
“No, I’m putting the basket back, sealing the hatch, and then getting off at the next stop. We’ll let Bell or whoever is behind this think their man bailed with some of their product.”
“Makes sense,” she said.
“I’ll call back soon, give you my location.”
Well down the track, I could see streetlights. I’d replaced the basket and hatch cover by the time the train stopped for the second time. On my right, from the brush by the track, I heard a sharp whistle.