Chapters (73)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Part IAnnie
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Part IIHarry
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Part IIIAnnie
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part IVHarry
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Part VAnnie
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Linwood Barclay
- About the Publisher
“Oh come on!” the woman said, laughing. “I thought you were going to say cheese or mayonnaise or onions or something. So that’s it, then. You put love into your trains.”
“What can I say? I hate to toot my own horn.” He waited to see if she would laugh at that. When she didn’t, he said, “That was a train joke. Toot? Horn?”
“Ah,” she said.
Nabler smiled sheepishly. “We train nerds aren’t particularly noted for our wit.”
“Tell me about this set,” she said.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Edwin said, coming around the counter and checking out the woman’s choice. “A Southern Pacific steam engine, four-six-two, a—”
“What does four-six-two mean? The number on the side is zero-four-three.”
“Okay, so, you see all the drive wheels? Four small wheels at the front, then six big wheels in the middle, and two small wheels at the back end. Four-six-two.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe that’s more detail than you need. So, a Southern Pacific steam engine with matching tender where the coal would be, a cattle car, a missile-launching car, and—”
“Like, a military missile? A rocket? Why would a train be carrying a missile?”
“There’s an element of whimsy with these sets. They’re designed more for fun than realism. The roof opens down the middle and a missile pops up and fires. Just don’t aim it at anyone’s eyes.”
“It fires? You’re not serious.”
“Ma’am, I would never kid about something as serious as a missile car. It has been a mainstay of the toy train lineup since the early sixties.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m a bit of a literalist.”
“Not a problem. So, a cattle car, a missile car, this one carries a giraffe, and then there’s the matching Southern Pacific caboose. And it comes with track and a power pack, or transformer, to make it run.”
“It’s perfect. I can see it under the tree now.”
“If I may make a suggestion,” Nabler said hesitantly, “why not give it to them now as opposed to waiting another couple of months till Christmas? And if they get the bug—”
“A bug? Is that an accessory?”
“The bug. As in, they get caught up in the hobby—then you’ll want to come back to get more boxcars and buildings and scenery for them for Christmas. So that they can build their empire.”
The woman smiled. “Aren’t you the clever salesman.”
He raised his palms innocently. “It’s only a suggestion.”
“An empire,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you have one of those?”
“I do, in fact. In the back of the shop. I wouldn’t be cut out for this line of work if I hadn’t caught the bug myself.”
Her eyes brightened. “Would I be able to see it? I mean, is it available for public viewing?”