Miles jumped off the barge and onto the ground and walked to the platform, joined by Push and Pull. The rest of his men filed in around him, looking very pleased. Some were joking with one another about the bonus they’d get for the heist.

Clamps looked very disturbed, and he scratched at the scars on his neck. He was a Survivorist, his scars a mark of devotion. Tarson just yawned a wide, gray-lipped yawn, then cracked his knuckles.

The entire platform shook, then began to move, descending one story into the foundry hall. Once they passed through, the doors closed above. The lift lurched slightly as it came to a stop. Miles looked to the side, down the long tunnel that Mister Suit claimed would someday provide train access under the city. It looked hollow, empty, lifeless.

“Hook up the chains,” Miles said, hopping off the platform. “Fix the train car in place.”

“Couldn’t we just wait?” Tarson asked, frowning. “It’ll open in twelve hours, right?”

“I plan to be gone in twelve hours,” Miles said. “Wax and his people are too close. We’re going to crack that car open, deal with whoever’s inside, then grab the aluminum and go. Get to work; let’s rip the door off.”

His men hastened to obey, tying the large train car to the wall with a large number of clamps and chains. Another set of chains was hooked to the Breaknaught’s door; these chains wrapped around the same powerful electric winching mechanism that raised and lowered the platform. The platform shook as it was disengaged, the motors instead engaging the chain wheels.

Miles walked to the gun rack, selecting two aluminum handguns identical to the ones in his holsters. He was disturbed to notice that there was only one other gun on the rack. They’d lost a fortune in weaponry. Well, he’d just have to see that Waxillium was duly repaid. Miles strode through the room, chains clinking on the floor and men grunting. The air smelled of coke from the inactive forges.

“Arm up!” Miles ordered. “Get ready to fire on the person inside the moment we open the thing.”

The Vanishers glanced at one another, confused, but then unslung or unholstered guns. He had about a dozen of them here, with some others in reserve. Just in case. Never put all your bullets in the same gun when Waxillium was around.

“But boss,” one of the Vanishers called, “the report said the train left without the guards inside!”

Miles cocked his gun. “If you find a building without rats, son, then you know that something more dangerous scared them away.”

“You think he’s in there?” Push said in a near monotone, stepping up beside him. Obviously, he hadn’t heard Miles’s conversation about Wax on the barge.

Miles nodded.

“And you brought him here.”

Miles nodded again.

Push’s face darkened. “You should have told us.”

“You were given to me to help deal with him,” Miles said. “I just wanted to see you boys get your chance.” He turned. “Start the motor!”