Страница 5 из 92
He
The smooth and polished United States senator Charles Kincaid arrived impeccably dressed in evening clothes. He was tall and strikingly handsome. His hair was slick, his mustache trim. No hint of whatever he was thinking-or if he was thinking at all-escaped from his brown eyes. But his sugary smile was at the ready.
He
“In case you haven’t heard, Kincaid, there’s been another accident. And, by God, this one is sabotage.”
“Good Lord! Are you sure?”
“So damned sure, I’ve wired the Van Dorn Detective Agency.”
“Excellent choice, sir! Sabotage will be beyond the local sheriffs, if I may say so, even if you could find one up here in the middle of nowhere. Even a bit much for your railway police.” Thugs in dirty uniforms, Kincaid could have added, but the senator was a servant of the railroad and careful how he spoke to the man who had made him and could as easily break him. “What’s the Van Dorn motto?” he asked ingratiatingly. “‘We never give up, never!’ Sir, as I am qualified, I feel it’s my duty to direct your crews in clearing the tu
He
“Three men dead in a flash,” he growled. “Fifteen trapped. I don’t need any more engineers. I need an undertaker. And a top-notch detective.”
He
“Not yet, sir. We’ve just sent-”
“Joe Van Dorn has agents in every city on the continent. Wire them all!”
He
Lillian He
“Father,” she said, “I just spoke with the chief engineer by telegraphone. He believes they can enter the pioneer tu
“I’m not eating di
He
As she spoke, the locomotive whistle blew twice, the double Ahead signal, and the train slid smoothly into motion.
“Where are we going?” she asked, not surprised they were on the move again.
“Sacramento, Seattle, and Spokane.”
3
FOUR DAYS AFTER THE TUNNEL EXPLOSION, JOSEPH VAN DORN caught up with the fast-moving, far-roaming Osgood He
The founder of the illustrious Van Dorn Detective Agency was a large, balding, well-dressed man in his forties who looked more like a prosperous business traveler than the scourge of the underworld. He appeared convivial, with a strong Roman nose, a ready smile slightly tempered by a hint of Irish melancholy in his eyes, and splendid red burnsides that descended to an even more splendid red beard. As he approached He
He paused on the platform, sensing a rush from within the car. Here came He
To Van Dorn, he snapped, “Took your time getting here.”
Van Dorn returned He
“Still more trouble than a carload of Eye-talians.”
“Here she is, now! My, my, how you’ve grown, young lady, I haven’t seen you since-”
“Since New York, when father hired you to return me to Miss Porter’s School?”
“No,” Van Dorn corrected. “I believe the last time was when we bailed you out of jail in Boston following a suffragette parade that got out of hand.”
“Lillian!” said He
The mischievous light in her pale blue eyes was extinguished by a steady gaze that was suddenly all business. “The contract is ready to be signed, Father.”
“Joe, I assume you know about these attacks.”
“I understand,” Van Dorn said noncommittally, “that horrific accidents bedevil the Southern Pacific’s construction of an express line through the Cascades. You’ve had workmen killed, as well as several i