"Dynamite never blew a locomotive like that."

"Of course not. You're looking at the effects of a boiler explosion. Water sloshed forward when she tipped and the crown sheet failed."

"So she derailed first?"

"Appears she did."

Bell fixed him with a cold stare. "A passenger reported she was running very fast and hitting the curves hard."

"Nonsense."

"Are you sure? She was running late."

"I knew Rufus Patrick. Safest engineer on the line."

"Then why'd she leave the tracks?"

"She had help from that son of a bitch unionist."

Bell said, "Show me where she left the tracks."

The director led Bell to the point where the track stopped on one side. Past the missing rail was a line of splintered ties and a deep rut through the ballast where the drive wheels had scattered the crushed stone.

"The sidewinder knew his business, I'll give him that."

"What do you mean 'knew his business'?"

The portly official stuck his thumbs in his vest, and explained. "There are numerous ways to derail a train, and I've seen them all. I was a locomotive engineer back in the eighties during the big strikes, which got bloody, you may recall--no, you're too young. Take it from me, there was plenty of sabotage in those days. And it was hard on fellows like me that sided with the company, driving a train never knowing when strikers were conspiring to knock the rails out from under you."

"What are the ways to derail a train?" Bell asked. "You can mine the track with dynamite. Trouble is, you have to stick around to light the fuse. You might make a timing device out of an alarm clock, giving you time to get away, but if the train is delayed it'll blow at the wrong time. Or you set up a trigger so the weight of the engine detonates the powder, but triggers are not reliable, and some poor track inspector comes along on a handcar and blows himself to eternity. Another way is, you pry up some tie spikes and unscrew the bolts out of the fisheye that holds two rails together, reeve a long cable through those bolt-holes, and yank on it when the train comes. Trouble is, you need a whole bunch of fellows strong enough to move the rail. And you're standing there in plain sight, holding the cable, when she hits the ground. But this sidewinder used a hook, which is damned-near foolproof."

The director showed Bell marks on the crosstie where a spike puller had dented the wood. Then he showed him scratches on the last rail made by a track wrench. "Pried up spikes and unbolted the fisheye, like I told you. We found his tools thrown down the embankment. On a curve, it's possible the loose rail might move. But to be sure, he bolted a hook onto the loose rail. The locomotive caught the hook and ripped her own rail right out from under her. Diabolical."

"What sort of man would know how to do something so effective?"