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tangle of metal. But there were no body parts or any smell of blood, brain or
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bowels.
Standing up, Remo called after Melvis and K.C. "Never mind the crowbar. I got
it open."
Remo had to repeat it three times before the pair stopped talking with their
hands and looked back.
They came charging back whooping and hollering.
Melvis climbed up as Remo jumped down. He gawked at the open roof, looked down
inside and asked, "How'd you do that?"
"I popped the rivets."
"I can see that. With what?"
"Pocket rivet popper," said Remo. "Forgot I had it on me."
"Fingernails of the correct length would have been more seemly," Chiun
undertoned.
Melvis climbed down again and said, "I wouldn't mind havin' me a handy gadget
like that. Let me take a gander."
"Sorry. Get your own."
"You know what you just done up there ain't within the purview of the DOT."
"Sue me," suggested Remo.
"NTSB might just do that little thing."
"There's no engineer," Remo argued.
"He coulda jumped clear."
"Not if he were suicidal," K.C. remarked.
"You keep your pretty little cowcatcher out of this. Pardon the expression."
K.C. offered a frown and yanked her engineer's cap low over her eyes.
"No engineer means you can throw drugs, diabetes and accidental derailments
out the window," said Remo.
"Let's not be rushin' events. Maybe that guy back there set the engine to
runnin' and had an accomplice lop his head off."
"Couldn't happen that way," K.C. said.
Melvis squinted up his homely face. "How's that?"
"See this here tilt reset switch?" she said, indicating the RC control panel.
"If the engineer falls over or drops dead, the tilt function comes on,
signaling the air brakes to clamp down."
"A fail-safe?" asked Remo.
"Yep. Once the RC is dropped, you have to reset everything. And that poor guy
back there is too long dead to have been the one to wreck the train. It was
the one who killed him that did the deed, sure as the corn grows high in
July."
"You don't say," Melvis blurted.
K.C. stuck out her tongue at him. Melvis grinned back.
"Enough," said Chiun. "This deed is the work of a ronin. "
"A what?" Melvis and K.C. asked in unison.
"A ronin."
"Never heard of a ronin. You, K.C. gal?"
Reaching into the bib of her farmer's jeans, K.C. extracted a dog-eared
paperback book. Remo saw the title: Kovac's Engine Handbook.
"Ronin, ronin, " she murmured. "How you spell it.
Chiun said, "R-o-n-i-n."
"Nope. No Ronin locomotive in here."
"He's not talking about an engine," Remo said.
"Then what is he talking about?"
"A ronin is Japanese."
Melvis grunted. "No wonder. Kovac's covers only U.S. of A. motive-power
units."
"Diesel or electric?" K.C. asked.
"Neither. Samurai."
They blinked.
Just then Melvis Cupper's pager started beeping.
"Sure hope that ain't what I think it is," he complained, charging off in the
direction of the emergency crew.
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They took their time following him. When they caught up, Melvis was handing a
cellular phone to an Amtrak worker in a white plastic hard hat and orange
safety vest.
"We got a haz-mat situation down the line a piece," Melvis bellowed. "Not
twenty miles from here."
"How's the engine?" K.C. asked in a stricken voice.
"Dunno. Look, I can't take you boys with me on account of it's a
hazardous-materials situation, and you're general pains in the butt anyway.
Adios and happy trails."
Melvis tried to push past the Master of Sinanju, whose right sandal suddenly
darted between Melvis's ostrich-skin boots.
Melvis fell flat on his face, and the Master of Sinanju stepped onto his
back.
"I will not allow you to stand again until you have agreed to take us with
you," Chiun said with measured vehemence.
"You're a nice old geezer, I do admit it," Melvis grunted. "But if you don't
get offa my back in five seconds, I'm gonna rear up and wash over you like the
Galveston flood."
Face bland, Chiun shifted his sandals apart.
"Better tell your friend to do what Mel said," K.C. said anxiously. "He can't
weigh much more than ninety pounds."
Remo shook his head. "He's on his own."
"How can you say that about such a sweet old man?"
"I meant Melvis," said Remo.
"Last chance," bellowed Melvis. "I'm countin' backward from three."
Chiun tucked his hands into his kimono sleeves.
"Ready? Three!"
Chiun closed his eyes. He seemed to be concentrating.
"Two." Melvis arched his back.
Chiun showed no sign of moving.
"One! "
Chiun tapped one toe softly.
Melvis suddenly collapsed like a deflated tire. He went "Oof!" as his face
jammed into the soft soil. He began making strenuous noises like a rooting
hog. His blunt fingers gouged the earth as he strained to lift the incredible
weight of the old Korean from his broad back.
The Master of Sinanju simply stood there, eyes closed, serene, a vagrant
breeze snatching at his wispy beard.
Puffing, Melvis twisted his face around so he could breathe through his
gulping mouth.
"What'd you do-set a boulder on my back? That ain't fair."
"There ain't nothing on your back except that little old man," K.C. pointed
out.
"Don't you prevaricate at a fellow rail fan. I know a dad-gum boulder when one
lights on my poor spine."
"I will step off if you agree to take us with you," said Chiun.
"Dang it, you got me flummoxed. Okay, doggonit, I agree."
And Chiun stepped off. He alighted gently as if he weighed no more than a
small child.
Melvis got himself turned around, stared up at the Nebraska sky and
concentrated on getting air in and out of his wheezing lungs.
"What the hell happened?" he gasped at last.
Chiun smiled thinly. "I thought like a boulder."
"That's some powerful imaginin'. You near to squashed me flat."
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