The high-frequency vibration through the catwalk handrail made Lin Mei’s dental fillings ache.
“Check the Dispatch Tower!” Lin shouted, steadying her binoculars against the iron stanchion. “Third floor window!”
Through the dust-streaked glass of the elevated control booth, six figures in charcoal windbreakers stood in a tight semi-circle.
In the center stood Chief Transit Notary Corbus Vane.
His gold-rimmed acoustic earmuffs gleamed under the high-pressure sodium lamps. His blood-red leather gauntlets rested flat against the brass handle of the remote pneumatic brake lever.
“He’s watching the turntable alignment,” Lin called out to Julian. “He has his hand on the override brake!”
“He’s timing it to lock at zero-three-thirty-five,” Julian replied, peering through the catwalk floor grating. “He wants Coach #404 to feed straight into Track 08.”
“What is the mechanical layout of Bay 08?” Lin asked, her fingers adjusting the focus dial on her lenses.
