Read Online The Christmas Train by David Baldacci - Free Book Online

Kristobal brought some of my favorite stuff on board. I’m more of a snacker, really.”
    “Kristobal?”
    “My assistant. He’s in the compartment right there.” Max pointed to the compartment where Tom had seen the headset kid.
    As if the mention of his name by his boss had reached his ears through the closed door, Kristobal emerged from his room.
    “Do you need anything, Mr. Powers?”
    “No, I’m fine. This is Tom Langdon. Tom might be helping us on our project.”
    Kristobal was as tall as Tom, and young and handsome and well built. He was very stylishly dressed, and probably made more in a week than Tom made in a year. He also seemed efficient and intelligent, and Tom instantly disliked him for all those reasons.
    “Excellent, sir,” said Kristobal.
    Tom reached out and they shook hands. “Good to know you,” Tom said, ignoring the imagined crunch of gravel between his teeth.
    Max said, “Okay, that’s settled. Eleanor will think about it and we’ll have drinks at eight, and now I have got to go smoke before I start hyperventilating.” He looked around, puzzled.
    Tom pointed, “That way, two cars down, through the dining room, into the lounge car, down the stairs, to the right and you’ll see the door marked ‘smoking lounge.’”
    “Thanks, Tom, you’re a gem. I know this is going to work out; it’s an omen. My palmist said something good was going to happen. ‘A chance meeting,’ she said. And look what happened. Yep, a good day.” He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and hustled off in his Bruno Maglis.
    Kristobal called after him: “Your lighter is in your right-hand jacket pocket, sir.”
    Max gave a little wave; Kristobal retreated to his office hovel. And then it was just Eleanor and Tom.
    For a few moments they stood there, each refusing to make eye contact.
    “I cannot believe this is actually happening,” Eleanor finally said. “Of all the people to see on this train.” She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.
    “Well, it kind of took me by surprise too.” He added, “You look great, Ellie.” As far as he knew, Tom was the only one who ever called her that. She’d never objected, and he loved the way it sounded.
    Eleanor’s eyes opened and focused on him. “I’m not going to beat around the bush: Max is a wonderfully gifted filmmaker, but sometimes he comes up with these off-the-wall ideas that just won’t work. I really believe this is one of them.”
    “Hey, I just walked smack into his enthusiasm. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to, and frankly, I haven’t even really thought about it either.”
    “So I can tell Max you’re not interested?”
    “If that’s what you want, Ellie, that’s fine.”
    She studied him closely now, and he felt himself shrink from the scrutiny.
    “That’s exactly what I want.” She went back inside her room and slid the door closed.
    Standing there, he was now a fully kilned statue of stone, ready for primer and paint. Not even the hum-hush, siss-boom-bahs and cunning whipsaws of the mighty Cap could budge the man in his rigid, unyielding despair. He wondered if it was too late to get a refund on his train ticket based on the recent occurrence of his living death. chapter nine
    Tom staggered back to his compartment and collapsed on the foldout bed. Eleanor was on this train? It couldn’t be possible. He’d never envisioned sharing his journey of self-discovery with the one person on earth whose absence in his life may well have led him to take the damn trip in the first place! And yet whose fault was her absence? He’d never asked her to stay, had he?
    As he sat up and stared out the window into the blackness, he suddenly wasn’t on a train heading to Chicago; he was in Tel Aviv. They’d chosen that coastal city because of its proximity to Ben-Gurion Airport; one was never really more than two hours’ flight time from the sort of stories Eleanor and Tom were there to cover. The Middle East was nothing if