Red Notice

102

The twenty remaining hostages were still in Coach Three. Laszlo’s men had herded them together into the centre of the carriage, where the windows were still intact. They sat, as ordered, in the aircraft brace position, guarded by half a dozen seated gunmen.

The Black Bears rose as one to their feet when he and Sambor appeared. Laszlo was moved to see the expression on their faces. He knew this was an emotional moment for them too; a moment they had planned and prepared for as long as any of them could remember.

‘All passengers, stand!’ Laszlo barked. As they complied, exchanging nervous looks, his men walked up and down the line, scrutinizing them closely. Laszlo stopped opposite the man in the black Puffa jacket, whose freedom he’d suddenly denied. ‘You — take your clothes off.’

‘What? Why?’

Laszlo slapped his hand so hard across the man’s aquiline face that the sound echoed through the space. ‘Do it now!’

Unable to hide his fear and humiliation, the man unbuttoned his jacket and began to undo his belt.

Laszlo pulled a day-sack off the shelf above the seats and emptied it onto the floor. He pulled the initiation device from the grab bag and placed it in the day-sack, then unwrapped a chocolate-covered PowerBar and chewed it while he, too, stripped off.

When the man was down to his underwear, Laszlo threw him the Eurostar uniform and grab bag. ‘Put these on.’ He raised his hand, as if to strike him again.

The man flinched and swiftly complied.

Laszlo pulled on his clothes. The jeans were a little big around the waist but the brown leather belt soon rectified that problem.

Sambor followed suit, exchanging his clothes with the tallest of the hostages. The six gunmen exchanged jackets and put other items aside for their brothers at each end of the train. They then concealed their sub-machine-guns under their fresh clothing.

The previous owner of the Puffa jacket was shaking so badly Laszlo thought he might pass out. He straightened the grab bag over his shoulder then took the man’s face gently in his hands. ‘Just be calm, and do as you are told. Take a deep breath — go on, deep breaths — try to control yourself. It may just save your life.’

Sambor embraced the six, exchanging a nod and a few words with each in turn. Laszlo, too, hugged and kissed them all, knowing that, whatever the outcome of the next few hours, they would never meet again.

The fighters, for their part, were just proud to have repaid their debt. Their guilt was expunged. They thanked him for giving them back their dignity.

If they survived, he told them, the gold was theirs. They had been unwavering in their loyalty over so many years; it was the least he could do for them. Whatever happened now, it was better to die like a Black Bear, if it enabled Laszlo and Sambor to escape and continue the fight. They all promised that they would do so with smiles on their faces, knowing that the brothers would take their revenge. Knowing they would kill the country.

The embraces and valedictions were over; the last handshakes were done. Laszlo and Sambor left their weapons and headed back towards the front of the train, Laszlo with the day-sack on his back and a new jacket under his arm, for the man guarding Tom and Delphine.

When they reached the bomb-damaged door to Coach Two, Sambor jumped from the train and Laszlo continued forward.