Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,72

blast from the engine’s steam whistle. At the last possible second, she grabbed on to the bottom of the railing with one hand and stopped herself from falling onto the track, but she was now upside down and she couldn’t lift herself up, her legs having become entangled in the railing’s vertical bars. With her body stretched out over the tracks and her face only inches from the wooden railroad ties, she could count each one as they passed right before her face and feared that this was going to be the end of her.

“Emiliano,” she cried out in a weak voice, afraid that the slightest movement would cause her to lose her grip on the railing.

“Don’t panic, Jacqueline,” Emiliano called down to her, “I’ll get you.”

She looked up and could see him leaning down in order to grab hold of her wrist through the gaps in the railing.

Jackie tried to convince herself that her situation wasn’t all that dire. After all, she had been in worse predicaments, such as hanging 228 feet above the ground from the top of Notre Dame’s south bell tower. Hanging off the end of a train was nothing compared to that. At the same time, as she continued to hold on, the wind whipping her hair every which way, she had to admit that Notre Dame hadn’t been barreling along at sixty miles an hour when she had been dangling from its towering pinnacle.

Finally, Emiliano gripped Jackie’s wrist with both of his hands though the bars and very slowly and carefully pulled her up to safety. As soon as he’d hauled her over the railing, she collapsed in his arms, and he held her head against his chest, where she could feel his heart beating rapidly. At least she wasn’t the only one.

They stayed that way for a little while, until they could feel the train begin to slow down. Breaking their embrace and looking around the corner of the car, they could see the bend in the tracks in the near distance.

Emiliano let go of her and said, “This is it. I want you to jump first. The verge here is grassy and soft. Try to roll as you land and you’ll be okay.”

Jackie looked up at Emiliano with absolute trust. “Okay.”

“Get ready. Bend your knees when you jump.” When the bend appeared ahead, the train slowed until it seemed like it was going less than thirty miles an hour.

“Now,” Emiliano said and gave Jackie a firm push. It was only a short distance to the grass verge. She hit the ground with her hands and knees and tumbled down a shallow slope before coming to a stop. Emiliano had been right. The grass was a soft carpet beneath her. She sat up and was seized by a momentary wave of dizziness. Fortunately, that subsided rather quickly, but it prevented her from moving out of the way as Emiliano came plummeting into her vicinity. He barreled right into her and grabbed hold of her. The two of them rolled the rest of the way down the shallow slope.

When they finally reached the bottom, Emiliano was on top of Jackie with his arms tight around her. This was the most intimate they had ever been. Their faces were so close together, their lips practically touching, that kissing seemed the most normal thing to do under the circumstances. The kiss seemed to last a long time, but Jackie was ultimately forced to wriggle out from under Emiliano because something was jabbing her in the ribs. It was her camera bag, which Emiliano had taken with him. Instinctively, she looked inside to make sure that her trusty Speed Graphic and the Mexican Dracula reel had made it through the fall intact, along with the bundle of dynamite sticks. To her great relief, they had.

Emiliano rose to his feet and held out his hand, helping Jackie to her feet. He led them in a direction south of the railroad line. Jackie walked on slightly unsteady legs, but whether it was from the kiss or the jump from the train she would have been hard-pressed to say.

XVII

I hope that isn’t a mirage, Jackie thought as a magnificent mansion appeared in the distance, shimmering in the sunlight that slanted down on its red-tiled roof. “Is that where we’re going?” she asked Emiliano.

“That’s it,” he said. “Walter Mitchell’s estate.”

Jackie brushed thick tendrils of sweat-matted hair away from her eyes and let out a long breath. “It looks like a palace.