The Final Enemy. An Inspector Faro Mystery No.12. Page 8

  'Anton said there were two men.'

  George nodded. 'That is so. The older man carried me but there was someone else running alongside.'

  'How do you know that?'

  George frowned, thinking. 'The man had strong arms, a broad chest. Tall. The other one was smaller.' He shrugged. 'Perhaps even a woman.’

  'A woman?'

  'Yes. Although they didn't speak to me or to each other, I heard their footsteps. The man who carried me was heavier-footed than the one who ran alongside, lightly, quickly - like a woman or a smaller man.'

  Faro marked down favourably that the boy had inherited the useful asset of observation, despite his terror. Meanwhile there were many more urgent questions the kidnapping attempt raised. Particularly George's reactions to his bodyguard Tomas's fatal accident at Glenatholl.

  He was considering how to raise the subject tactfully without further distressing the boy when a door opened and Anton shot on to the deck, out of breath and distraught.

  Terrified!

  It needed only one glance at his face to tell them something dreadful had happened.

  Chapter 12

  'I have been searching for you, everywhere,' Anton shouted. 1 thought you might - might be dead!'

  'Dead!' George looked quickly at Faro. 'In English, Anton, so that Mr Faro can understand.'

  Flustered and shaking, Anton repeated slowly to Faro what he had said to George. 'I thought he might be dead.'

  George laughed. 'Not at all. Here I am having a fine time with Mr Faro. Have you recovered from the seasickness?'

  'Recovered!' Anton screamed at him. 'Don't you understand? I almost died out there. I was attacked. Someone tried to - kill -me!'

  It was George's turn to look alarmed. 'What do you mean? Who would want to kill you?' He laughed uneasily. 'Anton, you must be mistaken.'

  Again Anton turned to Faro and said slowly in measured tones. 'Someone has just tried to push me overboard.'

  At his companion's dramatic announcement, George gave a horrified gasp. 'Anton - no!'

  'Yes. It was like this. I was feeling better, not so queasy and as Dieter and Helga were still asleep, I decided to have some fresh air. It is horrible being in a tiny cabin with sick people. I thought I would come up on deck and look for you but I turned dizzy again and leaned against the rail. That was when someone grabbed me.'

  'What was he like?' asked George. 'Did you see his face?'

  Anton hesitated. 'No. But I think - ' he hesitated, 'yes, definitely, a big strong man.'

  And Faro's mind flashed back to the description of George's kidnapper as Anton said, 'He crept up, took me by surprise.'

  Again Faro thought of the scene in Glenatholl's gardens that George had just described.

  'He had a stick, he raised it to strike,' Anton continued. 'But I was fortunate. At that moment the ship lurched, it threw him off balance and I ran away as fast as I could.' He paused. 'That is why I am out of breath.'

  Before Faro could ask for more details George, who was clearly very doubtful about this little drama, asked, 'Are you sure he meant to kill you, Anton?'

  'Of course,' was the angry reply. 'How could I be mistaken about that?'

  'It could have been the ship lurching at that moment that threw him off balance so that he bumped into you.'

  The voice of reason, thought Faro, amazed at George's calm and quite logical interpretation.

  'No,' Anton shook his head firmly. 'I am perfectly sure he meant to throw me overboard.'

  'But why, Anton? Why should a complete stranger threaten you so violently?'

  'That is easy. Because he thought I was you,' said Anton triumphantly. And at George's horrified exclamation, 'Yes, you, George! We are much the same height and in the darkness, with my back turned to him. You see, I am wearing a cap and your cape - here.'

  As he held it out, George regarded it wide-eyed.

  'I picked it up to come on deck. Helga was using mine as a blanket and I didn't want to disturb her, Dieter was also asleep, as I told you. Now, what do you think of that, George?'

  Dazed, George shook his head.

  'So it is true, Mr Faro,' said Anton sternly. 'Someone is trying to kill him. They have followed us and they are here on this ship.'

  Faro inclined to George's interpretation, since the alternative was very sinister indeed. But if Anton was not dramatising an accident then the killer had bungled his opportunity. He had run out of time for a second attempt, as the ferry was arriving at Calais.

  Just then an announcement was made that passengers were to remain on the ferry until morning due to the breakdown of the Club Train on its way from Paris. There were cries of dismay and alarm at this news, though passengers who had booked cabins gave a sigh of relief and were not at all sorry to retire and continue their journey the following morning.

  Faro was glad of Dieter's foresight and as the two boys raced ahead down the companionway he seized the opportunity of telling the bodyguard about Anton's alarming experience.

  Dieter shrugged. 'He has mentioned it,' he said in a voice devoid of all emotion.

  'And what were your conclusions? Do you think it was, as he believed, meant for George?'

  Again that shrug of the shoulders. Dieter spread his hands wide.

  'Who knows? It might have been an accident, but we must remain vigilant at all times. Expect the unexpected, as they say in your country,' he added as they reached the cabin where the two boys were waiting.

  Full of a solitary sleeper's apprehension and resigned to spending a crowded night in a small space with relative strangers - all but George, for he was no longer included in that category - Faro was pleased to find that the four bunks in the cabin were at least roomy and comfortable.

  'Where is Helga?' he asked.

  Dieter's shrug indicated indifference to this matter. 'I believe she has found accommodation among the other servants travelling with their employers.'

  The two boys were obviously very tired but brightened up considerably at being given a complimentary meal in the elegant ferry restaurant.

  At last they retired and Faro hoped sleep would be possible since not all the travellers were weary. Some were in high spirits, already exhibiting every intention of whiling away the hours until morning with wine, women and an abundance of song.

  As for Faro, he was surprised to find that despite his misgivings about the crowded sleeping arrangements in the tiny cabin, he slept very well. No dreams or nightmares. No predictions at all of what the future held. No more danger than if he had been on a journey to Germany to meet Imogen and spend Christmas in Heidelberg.

  But Jeremy Faro's optimism was in vain, and his normally reliable intuition had taken early retirement.

  They were awakened at daybreak by a waiter bearing a light repast of coffee and croissants, with fruit juices for the two boys. This was offered with due apologies as the passengers would receive a proper ‘petit dejeuner’ once they boarded the train waiting at the rail terminus by the ferry.

  Their luggage already transferred to the baggage car, rejoined by Helga, the five travellers made their way across the quayside, with the smell of the sea still encompassing them and the shrill cries of seabirds, who were particularly attracted to ferries after the breakfast hour.

  A porter ushered them into a six-seater compartment and soon they were under way, on the first stage of their journey across France where, unfortunately, the landscape was blotted out by heavy rain.

  The boys and Dieter played cards, Helga frowned over her knitting, counting some complicated pattern, and Faro returned to his unsolved mystery of Edwin Drood.

  At last the Club Train steamed importantly into Gare de l'Est railway station and the passengers were set down alongside the sleek gleaming exterior of the Orient Express.

  This was the moment the two boys had been waiting for.

  'I love trains, Mr Faro,' said George, clapping his hands and jumping up and down. He and Anton had to be restrained from tearing along the pl
atform by Dieter dashing after them, grabbing their arms and muttered a warning in German. Something about causing embarrassment among the passengers. Whatever it was, it had some effect on George, who continued to regard Dieter with an odd, puzzled expression.

  The spontaneous excitement and exuberance of two young boys faced with this wonder of the age, travel by train, was well understood by Faro. When he was young and trains were in their infancy, the thought of tearing through the countryside at fifty miles an hour was a daring prospect, not for the timid-minded.

  Her Majesty, who now accepted trains as the most convenient means of travelling between London and Scotland, had originally refused to expose her royal person to such unnatural speeds, quite against what God had intended for those He had anointed to rule over ordinary mortals. At last prevailed upon to risk a short trial journey to Stroud and emboldened by escaping unscathed, in the summer of 1879 she ventured across the newly built Tay Bridge. In December it collapsed, taking 75 passengers to their death in the river far below.

  Faro realised that this new generation would have very different attitudes to experiments with travel, if the two boys were any indication. Wild with excitement at the sight of the huge train steaming gently on the platform, George ignored Dieter's restraining hand and, turning to Faro, he said apologetically, 'I do adore trains. This is the most exciting moment in my whole life,' he added solemnly.

  And Faro prayed fervently that was so, that nothing more hazardous lay ahead than a smooth-running uneventful train journey across France and Germany to the Luxorian border.

  He was well-pleased with their compartment: comfortable seats padded against the motion of the train, to be adapted into small beds for the further comfort of passengers travelling by night, mirrors on walls of marquetried wood panels, curtains on the windows, a small table let down from the door frame for refreshments and an adjoining screened washbasin and water closet, much to the delight of the two boys.

  'This is more luxury than we have in Glenatholl,' George pointed out.

  The guard checked their tickets, followed by a porter wishing to stow away their hand-luggage and somewhat surprised that the older gentleman in the party preferred to keep his valise at his side.

  Soon the two boys were bouncing up and down on the seats while staring out of the window at the platform crowded with onlookers watching out for the famous, or saying farewells to friends. Once or twice Dieter tried in vain to entreat the boys to remain seated, ‘not to be vulgar’ was how Faro's limited German translated his words. But even Dieter had not the heart to quell their enthusiasm. Indeed, looking at the man's slightly flushed countenance, devoid of its usual calm, Faro suspected that he too was suffering from Orient Express excitement.

  Suddenly, as the train prepared to depart, he realised that Helga was missing.

  Chapter 13

  Faro turned to Dieter. 'Helga - where is she? Surely we aren't leaving without her?'

  Faro's last sight of her had been trailing behind them as if she did not wish to be associated with the two boys' exuberant behaviour. It also suggested that she might be keeping a lookout for the ladies' toilet facilities on the platform.

  Now Dieter shook his head. 'Did you not know, Mr Faro? I thought Anton had told you.' He darted a sharp glance at the boy, who merely shrugged at this matter of no importance.

  Dieter gave an exasperated sigh. 'Helga has not been feeling very well, the crossing upset her badly. She is not a good traveller and she decided that she might be going down with a fever.'

  'A fever?' Faro exclaimed. He found that hard to believe, Helga had looked perfectly healthy to him.

  'Indeed yes. And a fever on the Orient Express could be a great embarrassment to us all, especially to other important travellers,' said Dieter, nodding towards the two boys who no longer had interest in anything but the train steaming out of the station. 'Cholera, you know,' he whispered.

  Indeed, Faro did know. Cholera epidemics were the scourge of Europe, the haunting fear of every traveller on a long journey into foreign lands. There was a clause Imogen and he were now accustomed to encountering in all railway timetables, in very small print so as not to cause undue alarm: 'These schedules are issued, cholera permitting. The company does not accept responsibility for any illness incurred by its travellers during transit.'

  'Helga is in a constant state of anxiety about her health, even when she is quite well,' said Dieter. 'She suffers from her digestion.'

  That, thought Faro, was one answer to her rather flustered manner on the platform.

  ‘The journey has been difficult for her,' Dieter went on, 'so she decided it would be advisable to spend a few days with her grandmother, who lives here in Paris, to recover before continuing her journey to Germany.'

  Faro wondered when the silent and withdrawn Helga had imparted all this personal information to Dieter. Listening to the man as he talked, watching him closely, Faro decided he could hardly argue, although Helga had seemed robust enough on the Club Train journey from Calais, recovered from her seasickness and content to sit in a corner with her knitting. A smooth tale, well-prepared, he thought, but was it the truth? Again his aversion to the man brought a cold feeling of distrust, a twitch of his old intuition returned again.

  And the sinister fact remained, what had caused Helga to so abruptly change her mind?

  Once more studying Dieter, he made a mental note that he must never relax vigilance, that this man who had appointed himself their leader was an unknown quantity, a ruthless man, one who would not think twice about killing an adversary or of getting rid of someone who was no longer of any use to him, their presence an inconvenience. Especially if he was being paid well to do so.

  The train was now gathering speed. Faro was helpless to do anything. He could hardly raise an outcry about a missing passenger and insist on the train returning to the platform while he went in search of Helga.

  He bit his lip, frustrated. True, he owed her nothing, her attitude toward him had been indifferent, even faintly hostile, but he could not shake off the fear that some misfortune other than a suspected fever had prevented her from joining the train and continuing the journey with them.

  'I wish Helga had told us of her intentions,' he remarked to Dieter, in a tone of stern disapproval.

  Dieter grinned at him, a cold mirthless parting of his thin lips. 'She informed Anton of her change of plan.'

  Confiding in Anton also seemed rather unlikely, thought Faro.

  'You must understand that her English is not good,' Dieter explained. 'She would have found it difficult to explain to you why she was leaving us, and perhaps feared that you might have objections.'

  "Why should I have objections?’

  Dieter shrugged. 'You might wish for a maid to look after us. Most gentleman in your position would expect such services. For the laundry and so forth.'

  'I hardly think we will need the laundry on this train,' Faro said coldly. 'I imagine all such matters are well in hand.'

  'I am sure you are right, Mr Faro,' was the smooth reply. 'But look at it this way. Is it not to our advantage and more convenient, as you will surely see, to have four males sharing a compartment - for safety?' he added emphasising the word. 'A lady's presence would have been difficult. We would have had to engage a separate sleeping compartment for her.'

  'I had presumed you would have thought of that,' said Faro. 'Surely the train provides places for lady's maids and nannies travelling with their employers.'

  Dieter gave him an angry glance. He did not like being questioned. 'I would have found accommodation for Helga once the train had started,' he said shortly. But was that all? Had Dieter regretted his impulse to bring her along, overcome by some crafty measure of thrift that Faro knew nothing about?

  The man was an enigma, he thought, as Dieter shrugged and looked out of the window, indicating that the matter was closed.

  But was it? Faro continued to have pangs of conscience about Helga, wishing he had taken more notice
of her and that he could believe Dieter's story had some elements of truth in it.

  The boys announced that they were hungry and when Dieter responded by saying they should all go directly to the restaurant car, they raced ahead and George cannoned into a crusty old gent.

  'You should teach your son better manners, sir,' the man said to Faro.

  Faro pretended not to hear, the significance of the remark lost upon him as he gazed at the elegant restaurant car. The walls were padded in Spanish leather, the ceiling painted in Italian stucco, and at tables set with linen and silver, ‘petit dejeuner’ was being served. Studying the menu he was unaware of Dieter's puzzled gaze changing into sudden enlightenment.

  There were wine glasses and George, tapping one with his finger, said solemnly, ‘Real crystal, Mr Faro, like we have at home.’

  Faro smiled, for crystal was one of Luxoria's famous exports. It would have seemed an extravagance considering the possibilities involved in a swaying train, the kind with wooden seats and no facilities, crowded with people and all too often with their animals too - trains that he and Imogen were used to in their travels across Europe - but here was a machine from the world of the future, gliding along the railway lines so smoothly. Imogen would be so envious when he told her about it. He thought wistfully that some day in the future, if they saved enough money, they might manage a very short journey on the Orient Express.

  Having observed Faro's anxious reaction to the possible fate of crystal glasses, George said, ‘This carriage, like our sleeping car, is on bogeys, did you know that, Mr Faro?'

  Faro shook his head. The only bogeys he knew anything about were of the supernatural variety beloved of Celtic myths.

  'Bogeys make travel much safer as they allow the wheels to swivel independently of the carriage and this gives a smoother ride round bends,' was the knowledgeable explanation.