Red Notice

33

Delphine was still as pale as a ghost as Tom steered her back through the carriages. ‘Just wait here,’ he said, as he helped her into her seat. ‘There’s something I need to check. I’ll be right back.’

‘Why? What is it? Where are you going? What are you doing?’

‘You’re not going to like this.’ He bent down to kiss her cheek. ‘But something just came up.’

She stared at him, anger flaring in her eyes. ‘So the great romantic gesture of pursuing me to London, and to Paris if necessary, was just a sham, was it? And to think for a moment I almost believed you.’

He didn’t hear any of it. He was already moving away from her, back along the carriage.

He hurried to the Disabled toilet. Too many people disregarded things they thought weren’t right because it wasn’t worth the embarrassment to check them out. Thieves and terrorists melted away because passers-by, particularly of the British variety, were too heads-down, not wanting to make a fuss. But Tom wasn’t one of those people. He’d check things out. It didn’t matter that he was out of Hereford when he shouldn’t be; it didn’t matter if Delphine thought even less of him. It was the right thing to do.

Even if he got binned for calling in a possible on a train he shouldn’t be on, so what? It would just bring on the next stage of his life more quickly than he’d planned. That was nothing compared to the nightmare of not taking action and discovering later that he’d let Laszlo slip through his fingers.

And there was another, even more important, reason why he needed to check out the possible: Delphine’s life, and the lives of hundreds of other innocents on the train. The smell of death followed Laszlo wherever he went, and Tom didn’t want it anywhere near the woman he loved.

The red ‘Occupied’ sign was still illuminated, but Tom ignored it and banged on the door. There was no response from inside. He banged again, harder, then took a pace back and booted the door just below the lock. He heard a shout and the head steward, anger written across his face, surged up to him. How dare someone try to damage his train? ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing? Can’t you see it’s occupied? Stop it now, or I’m going to have to call the police. I’ll have you arrested and removed from the train.’

Tom ignored him, shrugged off his restraining hand and booted the door once more. There was a splintering sound and, after another vicious kick, it was dangling uselessly from its frame. There was an obstacle behind it, but Tom forced his way through the gap.

The toilet bowl was splattered with blood. On the floor next to it lay the body, stripped to its underwear. Tom didn’t have to check the man’s pulse to know that he was dead. The colour of the flesh around the neck wound had already told him that. As he stared at the body, his mind racing, Tom heard a gasp.

‘Derek!’ The head steward was peering round the door, staring wide-eyed.

‘You know him?’ Tom had to repeat the question before the man could stammer out a reply.

‘He’s one of our attendants.’ His knees gave way beneath him.

Tom caught him before he fell and manoeuvred him into the cubicle. ‘There’s nothing you can do for him now. Just get a grip on yourself. Calm down. Come on, deep breaths…’

The head steward was trying to do as he was told. But Tom knew it wasn’t only shock that had got to him. It was fear.

‘Deep breaths, don’t look down, just look at me. That’s it. No one’s going to hurt you.’

Tom flashed his MoD ID card. The head steward barely registered it. Shaking with fright, he was unable to tear his eyes away from the dead man. Tom took his arm and turned him around, so that he was facing the small wall mirror above the sink. ‘Don’t look down. Come on, just watch me.’

Tom peered over the head steward’s shoulder, trying to make eye contact. The steward’s eyeballs were rotating faster than the display on a one-armed bandit. It was if he was being tasered.

‘Listen…’ Tom checked the man’s name badge. ‘Listen, Colin. The man who murdered Derek… Did you see the TV news last night? You know those explosions in Hampstead? It wasn’t a gas leak. It was an attempt to arrest the man who’s just killed your mate. He’s a wanted war criminal. He’s killed over six hundred civilians — innocent people. And, trust me, he won’t hesitate to do it again. I need your help. Are you going to help me, Colin?’

‘Should… should we stop the train?’

‘No. He’s smart. If you do that, he’ll know he’s been spotted. Then we’ll have a real drama on our hands. All I need you to do for the moment is to stand outside this toilet and keep the passengers away from here, OK? Just tell them it’s out of order and they’ll have to use the one in the next coach — and keep this quiet. All of our lives depend on that. I need your help, mate, do you understand?’

The head steward nodded again.

‘Say it,’ Tom said, waiting until he got an answer before releasing the man’s arms.

‘I understand,’ the head steward said at last.

‘Good. I’ll be back soon.’

Tom looked round as someone outside tried to push the door open. Delphine had followed him down the carriage and was now staring, horror-struck, at the body. She opened her mouth to scream but Tom grabbed her, covered her lips with his hand, and brought her into the toilet as well. He hugged her to him. ‘Sssh… It’s all right, Delphine, it’s all right.’ He stroked her hair. ‘Everything’s OK… I’m here…’ He waited a moment for her sobbing to subside, then carefully released her and wiped away her tears. He steered her away, with her back to the scene she had just witnessed. ‘I have to call this in.’

He glanced up and down the carriage, took out his iPhone and speed-dialled.

Gavin answered on the first ring. The caller ID might be in the Lines but Tom still wasn’t. ‘Mate, the boss is about ten metres away from me at the moment, and it’s only a matter of time before he asks me where the fuck you are. So, with or without Delphine — and don’t get me wrong, I hope it’s with — I need you back here soon as.’

‘I’m afraid there may be a bit of a delay.’ Tom turned to check on Delphine and Colin. He stopped talking long enough for Gavin to hear what he’d been dreading.

‘Shit, I told you not to get stuck on the train…’ Another thought hit him. ‘Mate? You're still in the UK, aren’t you?’

‘Sorry, I couldn’t get off at Ebbsfleet. Next stop’s Paris.’

‘What? You gone fucking mad? It’s not just you that’s going to be in the shit. My arse is one hundred per cent grass if you get caught. It’s worse than—’

‘Shut up and listen.’ Tom cut through his complaints. ‘I’ve just pinged X-ray One. Beard, short hair, almost a number-three cut, thinning on top. He’s dressed in a grey Eurostar uniform.’

‘You taking the piss? Trying to play hero won’t get us out of the shit, mate. I know bullshit baffles brains but you shouldn’t be on the fucking train in the first place, remember?’

Tom’s voice was suddenly cold, clear and slow. ‘This is no bullshit. I’ve also got a dead Eurostar attendant with no uniform. That makes it definitely X-ray One, don’t you think? You need to call it in. You know the train number. We’ll be in Paris in about two hours. Call it in, Gav, for fuck’s sake. We’ve got to tell the French. Don’t let them stop this thing or we’ll have a nightmare. I’ll call with a sit-rep the other side of the tunnel.’

Gavin had got the message loud and clear. ‘Roger that. Mate, keep both of you safe.’

The last thing Tom heard before he cut the call was Gavin turning towards the team office where Ashton must have been at his desk. ‘Boss! We got shit on!’