Chapter 7 – Large Lads, Old Flames & Full Throttle

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All Aboard the Fastest Spanish Train

Chapter 7 – Large Lads, Old Flames & Full Throttle

The dining car was seconds from becoming a crime scene. Ron Beefmaster’s pistol gleamed, Salty stood ready, and Sarah’s hand hovered near the butter knife like she was about to make the most dangerous tapas plate in Spain.

Then the doors at the far end slammed open — Ye Olde Large Lad stormed in like a runaway bull, wielding a silver tray stacked with paella.
“Salty!” he boomed. “Move your skinny backside, I’m coming through!”

He didn’t so much walk as bulldoze, slamming into Ron’s shoulder and sending the pistol clattering across the floor. Sarah kicked it under a table before Ron could grab it.

“About time, Large Lad,” Salty said.
“Had to finish me churros first,” Large Lad replied, utterly serious.

From the corner of the carriage, a voice Salty hadn’t heard in years purred, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Salty turned.
McFinleyyy.
The Irish wildcard, sharp suit, eyes twinkling like he’d just won three hands of poker and stolen the deck.
“You’re supposed to be in Lisbon,” Salty said.
“I was,” McFinleyyy replied, giving Sarah a cheeky wink 😜, “but then I heard you were having all the fun without me.”

Ron growled. “I should have known you’d turn up, McFinleyyy.”
McFinleyyy grinned. “And spoil the party? Never.”

Outside, the speed display ticked to 320 km/h. Winky’s voice crackled over the earpiece:
“Uh, lads? We’ve got sixty seconds before this thing hits the end of the line. And I don’t mean metaphorically.”

Salty grabbed Sarah’s hand. “Next carriage. Now.”
Large Lad held the doorway, blocking Ron and Candle as the rest of the team barreled through. McFinleyyy followed, tossing a wink over his shoulder. “I’ll buy you a drink if we live.”

The next carriage was the control room — glowing panels, frantic engineers, and a single flashing button marked EMERGENCY BRAKE. Winky was already there, typing like a caffeinated octopus.
“Someone’s locked it out,” he panted.
Salty grinned. “Then we’ll just unlock it… the old-fashioned way.”

Ye Olde Large Lad cracked his knuckles. “Smash it?”
“Smash it.”

With a single swing, the button shattered — and the AVE screeched, sparks flying along the rails. The passengers were thrown forward, luggage tumbling, wine bottles shattering. But the train slowed… slowed… until it coasted into Barcelona Sants Station with a hiss of steam.

On the platform, the team spilled out into the Spanish sunlight. Ron, Candle, and Woodie were nowhere to be seen — slipped away into the crowd.
McFinleyyy leaned against a pillar, smiling. “Same time next week?”
Sarah smirked at Salty. “Only if you actually take me to dinner this time.”
Salty tipped his cap. “Deal.”

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