Nosovitskaya thought for a moment; then she answered, “I don’t trust the senior executives there. Especially the CEO and CTO. Smythe, the CEO, is a smarmy little shit, English. He prances around in fancy clothes, pretending he is an important man. Lords it over everyone. He is a possibility for this stupid attempt.”

She took a taste of her wine. “Then there is Andretti. He is the most disgusting man I have ever seen, fat, a real slob. He thinks he is a genius, but I have not seen any sign of it. Usually drunk by noon. I’d start with those two. They spend a lot of time together with the door shut and I would wager they are involved if there is some type of conspiracy. Yes, it is likely one or the other or both of them.”

Mikhail Gikoytski grunted, his eyes squinted and his jaw set. Even Marina Nosovitskaya, who had grown up amid the Mafiosi, shivered at the look on the man’s face.

“We will start with the fat one, the pig. We will squeeze him a bit and see if he squeals. I suspect soon we will know who threatens our plan. That threat will be eliminated.”

Bill Beaman watched from where he lay on the frozen ground beneath a scrub birch as the train rumbled up the steep grade, plowing snow out of its way as it came in his direction. The ancient diesel could barely tow its heavy load and push the snow aside at the same time. It groaned and complained as it tried. A long line of flatcars stacked high with oil pipes stretched out behind the engine, down the slope and across the bridge below.

The rusty diesel reached the top of the grade, turned the bend at the crest of the hill, and disappeared from view. Beaman flashed a hand sign to Johnston, who was hiding lower down the bank, closer to the tracks. The rest of the team members were hiding at ten-meter intervals coming up the steep slope.

With the train’s crew now out of sight, the SEAL chief rose to a crouch and dashed from his hiding place to grab the short ladder on one of the flatcars as it passed. He swung himself up onto the car and then reached to grab Dumkowski, running right behind him. Then Cantrell clambered up, followed by Broughton.

Martinelli tripped over the scrub he was hiding behind, but managed to reach the ladder with a lunge. Cantrell grabbed him and hauled him up to join the rest. Hall followed and leaped up onto the car as well.