"Very well then," Marcone called, leaning back into the cabin. He took a large-caliber hunting rifle down from a rack and settled into a seat, buckling up. "Best strap in, gentlemen. Let's go recover the holy Shroud."
I settled in and told Michael, "Now, if only we had a bit of Wagner to send us on our way."
I saw Card's reflection in the chopper's front windows look up at my words. Then she flicked a couple of switches, and "Ride of the Valkyries" started thrumming through the helicopter's cabin.
"Yee- haw," I said as my elbows and knees started a nagging ache. "As long as we're going, we might as well go out in style."
Chapter Thirty-two
After a few minutes, the ride got bumpy. The chopper started jouncing at random, lurching several feet in any given direction. If I hadn't been strapped in, I probably would have slammed my head against the walls or ceiling.
Marcone put on a headset and spoke into a microphone. He listened to the answer and then shouted to the rest of us, "The ride may be a bit bumpier. The stabilizers are run by the onboard computer, which has failed." He gave me a direct look. "I can only speculate as to why."
I looked around, picked up another headset, put it on, and said, "Blow me."
"Excuse me?" came Card's somewhat outraged voice over the intercom.
"Not you, blondie. I was talking to Marcone."
Marcone folded his arms in his seat, half smiling. "It's all right, Miss Gard. Compassion dictates that we must make allowances. Mister Dresden is a diplomatically challenged individual. He should be in a shelter for the tactless."
"I'll tell you what you can do with your shelter," I said. "Marcone, I need to speak to you."
Marcone frowned at me, and then nodded. "How much time before we reach the southbound tracks?"
"We're over the first one now," Gard replied. "Three minutes to catch the train."
"Inform me when we reach it. Mister Hendricks, please switch the cabin headphones to channel two."
Hendricks didn't say anything, and it made me wonder why he had bothered with a headset.
"There," came Marcone's voice after a moment. "We're speaking privately."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I said.
"Tell you that I hadn't sent Mister Franklin for you?"
"Yeah."
"Would you have believed me?"
"No."
"Would you have thought I was playing some kind of game with you?"
"Yes."
"Then why waste the time and make you more suspicious? Generally speaking, you are quite perceptive-given enough time. And I know you well enough to know that I do not wish to have you as my enemy."
I glowered at him.
He arched an eyebrow, meeting my gaze without fear or hostility.
"Why do you want the Shroud?"
"That's none of your business."
I scowled. "Actually it is. Literally. Why do you want it?"
"Why do you?"
"Because the Denarians are going to kill a lot of people with it."
Marcone shrugged. "That's reason enough for me as well."
"Sure it is."
"It's simple business, Mister Dresden. I can't conduct business with a mound of corpses."
"Why don't I believe you?"
Marcone's teeth flashed. "Because given enough time, you are a perceptive individual."
There was a beep in the headphones, and Gard said, "Fifteen seconds, sir."
"Thank you," Marcone replied. "Dresden, why should these people take the Shroud and this plague of theirs to St. Louis?"
"It's another international airport," I said. "It's the central hub for TWA. And hell, as long as they're there, they could probably go for a swim in the Mississippi."
"Why not simply stay in Chicago?"
I nodded toward Michael and Sanya. "Them. Plus I figure they know that Murphy and SI would give them a hard time. Even the regular cops were out in force looking for them."
He looked speculatively at Michael and Sanya. "I assume you have a means to locate the Shroud if that is the correct train?"
"Yeah," I said. "And here's the deal. You drop us off, and we get the Shroud."
"I'm going with you," Marcone said.
"No, you aren't."
"I can always order Miss Gard to return to O'Hare."
"Where we'll all die of the plague, since we didn't stop the Denarians."
"That may be. Either way, I'm going with you."
I scowled at him, then shook my head and leaned back against the seat, shivering. "You suck. You suck diseased moose wang, Marcone."
Marcone smiled with just his mouth. "How colorful." He looked out the window and said, "My people tell me there are only three trains leaving Chicago for St. Louis this evening. Two freight trains and a passenger train."
"They won't be on the passenger train," I said. "They'd have to ditch weapons and goons, and they won't."
"Even odds that this is the one, then," Marcone said.
The chopper descended until the trees near the tracks were swaying in the downblast. That's the nice part about the Midwest. Go twenty miles from a town hall and there's nothing but lightly settled farm country. I looked out the window and saw a long train rumbling along the tracks.
Michael sat bolt upright and nodded to me.
"This is it," I said to Marcone. "Now what?"
"I bought this helicopter as Coast Guard surplus. It's fitted with a rescue winch. We climb down it onto the train."
"You're joking, right?"
"Nothing worth doing is ever easy, Dresden." Marcone took off the headphones and shouted to Sanya and Michael. Sanya's reaction was about like mine, but Michael only nodded and got unstrapped. Marcone opened a locker and drew out several nylon harnesses. He strapped one on himself and passed out another to each of us. Then he hauled the side door of the helicopter open. Wind filled the cabin. Marcone opened a cabinet, and started drawing a length of cable from it. I looked and saw the winch inside. Marcone looped the cable through a ring outside the door then said, "Who first?"
Michael stepped forward. "Me."
Marcone nodded and clipped the cable onto the harness. A minute later, Michael hopped out of the helicopter. Marcone flicked a switch near the electric winch, and cable began playing out. Marcone watched intently and then nodded. "He's down."
The winch reeled back in, and Sanya stepped up to the door. It took a couple of minutes, and it felt like the chopper was doing too much lurching around, but Marcone eventually nodded. "Dresden."