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“He’s coming your way!”
Agent Z pressed his index finger against the tiny
radio receiver in his right ear. He’d spent the entire evening riding
back and forth on the commuter train between the northwest suburbs and
the
Loop
. He was waiting for their suspect to show up.
Now, according the message from Agent D, the man
had boarded the train — and was walking back towards Agent Z’s car.
Agent looked up from behind a well-worn copy of the
Chicago Tribune. He watched as their target walked through the
front entrance and down the aisle of the car. The man was swaying back
and forth as the train pulled away from the station.
Their suspect was tall and lanky, with long dirty
blonde hair. He looked to be in his early twenties, and wore a pair of
torn jeans and a Northwestern sweatshirt. Even though it was dark out, a
pair of small round sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose.
“I have him,” Zach spoke softly into the
two-way radio in his wrist watch. “He’s sitting in the middle of the
car, on the aisle. Over.”
“Roger that, Agent Z,” said the voice in the
earpiece. “M2 will be joining you for the collar in sixty. Over and
out.”
Agent Z counted the seconds as he waited for Agent
M2 to walk back from his post at the front of the train. Thirty seconds
went by, then forty, then fifty. Then Agent Z saw the door to the car
open.
The doorway was filled by a burly red-headed man
in black jeans, a black turtleneck shirt, and a black silk jacket.
Agent M2 took two seconds to sweep the car with his steely gaze. Then he
strode purposefully towards the lanky man with the long hair.
Agent M2 was two seats away when the man in the
sweatshirt realized what was happening — and bolted towards the back
of the car!
The man in black took off after his quarry. Agent Z
turned to watch. He knew that Agent M2 had the young man trapped. This
was the last car on the train!
Then, to Agent Z’s surprise, the man in the
sweatshirt opened the rear door — and stepped outside! With Agent M2
hot on his heels, the man flew out the open door. Then he grabbed hold
of the ledge above, and swung himself up onto the roof of the moving
car!
As Agent M2 followed his quarry out the rear exit,
Agent Z rushed to the front of the car. The man in the sweatshirt was
going to try to escape across the top of the cars. If he hurried, Agent
Z could cut him off.
Agent Z forced the car’s door open and leaned out
over the tracks rushing by below. The wind whistled past his head. He
wrapped his hands around the metal ladder at the end of the car. Then he
forced himself out and up, climbing hand over hand as the train picked
up speed in the dark.
Reaching the top of the ladder, Agent Z heaved
himself up onto the roof of the car. The noise was deafening. He had to
close his eyes for a second to find his balance on top of the speeding,
swaying train.
When he opened his eyes, Agent Z saw the man in the
sweatshirt staggering towards him in the darkness. He was followed
closely by the burly figure of Agent M2.
“Give it up!” Agent Z shouted over the roar of
the train. “We have you surrounded!”
The tall man stopped where he was. He looked back,
then forward, then back again.
Agent M2 continued to advance on the suspect. He
shifted from one foot to another, trying to keep his balance on the
swaying train.
It was then that the train leaned into a hard
curve — and threw all three of them to their knees!
Agent Z pitched forward and grasped the top of the
car with his entire body. He was holding tight to keep from being thrown
off. When he looked up, he saw Agent M2 and their quarry doing the same.
They were doing everything in their power to keep from being tossed from
the speeding train.
As the train straightened out, the three of them
staggered to their feet. Beside them, a series of lights passed by,
blurring together as the train accelerated down a straight stretch of
track. Somewhere in the distance a horn blared, long and loud.
Agent Z planted his feet wide on the roof of the
car, intent on stopping their quarry. Then he saw the man in the
sweatshirt turn—and start running back towards the rear of the
car!
What’s he trying to do? Agent Z thought to
himself.
Then he looked back and saw headlights of another
train approaching them, on a parallel set of tracks. At the moment the
two trains met, the long-haired man leapt off the side of the
car—directly onto the roof of the passing train!
“No!” Agent Z screamed.
The long-haired man landed on the roof of the train
rushing past them. The train Agent Z was on was heading towards the
suburbs. The train on the parallel tracks was heading in the opposite
direction, towards
Chicago
.
Agent Z looked at Agent M2. He saw the look of
disappointment and rage on his face.
“He’s getting away!” Agent M2 yelled. He
turned and shook his fist at the passing train.
“Not if I can help it!” Agent Z replied.
Agent Z took a deep breath. Then he bent his knees
and rushed forward — and flung himself into the wide empty space
between the two trains!
Time seemed suspended as Agent Z flew through the
inky dark of the
Chicago
night. The roar of the trains and the clanking of the tracks blended
with his own screams as he saw the ground rushing by beneath him. The
cars seemed to move farther away with each passing second as he
stretched his arms out. He was hoping against hope to reach the other
train before he plummeted downward onto the tracks below.
As he soared towards the other train, Agent Z
looked over his shoulder. He shuddered as he saw the last car coming up
fast.
Had he leapt too late? Would the other train
completely pass by before he reached the other side?
Agent Z closed his eyes and prepared for impact.
Long seconds went by. Then he heard a loud whump! — and felt
cold metal against his bare fingers.
He’d made it!
Agent Z opened his eyes. He found himself hanging
tight to the edge of the roof on the very last car of the Chicago-bound
train. He’d made it, yes — but only by inches!
He paused for a moment to catch his breath, then he
pulled himself up onto the roof of the speeding train. Up ahead, a
half-dozen cars away, he saw the figure of the long-haired man
silhouetted against the full moon.
The chase was on!
It took the man in the sweatshirt several long
seconds to realize that he’d been followed. Agent Z used the time to
dash forward across the top of the train. He leapt from car to car with
the agility of a highly trained athlete.
Within minutes Agent Z and his quarry stood on the
same car. They faced each other down as the night sped by around them.
“You know what I want!” Agent Z yelled to the
long-haired man. “You might as well give it to me now!”
“I’ll give it to you!” cried the man the
sweatshirt. He removed a small revolver from his torn jeans. His
sunglasses had fallen off in his flight, and his eyes were red and
wild-looking. “I’ll give it to you good!”
“Wait!” Agent Z screamed as the long-haired man
waved the gun in his direction. “Behind you!”
The other man grinned a crazy grin as he aimed the
gun at Agent Z.
“Behind me? I’m not falling for that old
one...”
At that moment several things happened at once:
Agent Z dove for the roof of the car…
…the long-haired man fired one shot from the
revolver…
…and the train passed beneath a low-hanging
sign.
The man with the gun didn’t have time to fire
again before the sign slammed into the upper half of his body. It
smashed him down and forward. He lay very still as the train continued
speeding towards
Chicago
.
“That was a good sign,” Agent said, with just a
touch of humor.
He lifted himself up and crawled over to the body
of the man in the sweatshirt. The man was unconscious, but still
breathing. Agent Z patted him down, searching under his sweatshirt and
through the pockets of his jeans. It didn’t take him long to find what
he was looking for.
“A-ha!” Agent Z said to himself. He removed a
small black canister from the rear pocket of the man’s jeans. The
agent put the canister in his own pocket, then raised his left wrist up
to his lips.
“Agent Z reporting in,” he said into his wrist
watch/radio. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the rumbling of the
rails. “The target has been neutralized, and I’ve recovered the
microfilm. Over.”
“Zach!” cried the voice in Agent Z’s
earpiece. “Are you alright?”
“Roger, M2,” Agent Z replied. “Just settling
in for the ride back to town.”
Zach heard the voice in his earpiece chuckle.
“Hang on tight, kiddo, and Agent D will meet you
at the next stop. We gotta get you home before bedtime.”
“Uncle Mike!” Agent Z protested. “Quit
treating me like a kid!”
“Well, you are just a kid,” Agent M2
replied. “Even if you are an operative for the Agency.”
“That’s me,” said the twelve-year-old boy
with the unruly tussle of blond hair. “Agent Z, Junior Spy. Over and
out.”
Then he settled back, cross-legged on the roof of
the passenger car. He sat there, thinking to himself, as the commuter
train lumbered towards the towering skyline of downtown Chicago. |