Red Notice

96

Her hands and thighs still duct-taped together after she’d been cut loose from the shelving pillars, Delphine was now being dragged towards the engine by a fighter. The deafening explosions, machine-gun fire and men in black trying to force their way onto the train might have stopped, but the cries, sobs and prayers of the hostages had not.

The floor was strewn with broken glass. So were many of the hostages. The reek of cordite hung in the air, mingling with the haze of smoke from the devices that had made her ears ring. One was still smouldering — it had ignited the fabric and foam innards of a chair. The stink of burning plastic was acrid and frightening.

Old men gripped their wives protectively as Delphine was pulled past them. Some just cowered and looked away. Parents comforted their children.

She saw Laszlo enter the carriage.

He paused every couple of steps and pointed at selected passengers. ‘You are now free to go.’

Nobody moved. They just looked puzzled. Some didn’t understand him; those who did couldn’t bring themselves to believe him.

Laszlo walked slowly along the carriage, pointing as he did so. ‘You… you… you four… you two… and you.’

Delphine was fearful. There seemed no particular logic in the choices he was making. She couldn’t help thinking that it was yet another of his tricks.

‘You… and you…’

He stopped and turned back to a group of four at a table he had freed, and pointed at a thin man with short grey hair, dressed in a black Puffa jacket and jeans. ‘You will stay.’

The woman next to him burst into tears. He tried to comfort her, while almost hyperventilating about his own potential fate.

The air was thick with suspicion. After all they had been through that day, Delphine shared their disbelief. By the time Laszlo got to the end of the carriage, he’d selected a total of twenty males to remain in the tunnel. Some looked resigned; some couldn’t conceal their envy of those whose nightmare might — just might — have been about to end.

He turned, smiling benevolently, like an Old Testament prophet preparing to lead the chosen ones from the desert. ‘Go. Walk back along the tunnel. You will find yourself in England, in sunlight and open air, and all this will start to seem like a bad dream.’

One of a four-man group finally raised a hand, braver, Delphine thought, or perhaps more foolhardy than the rest. ‘How do we know you aren’t just fucking us about? You know, we get off the train, and then you kill us.’

Laszlo spread his open palms in a theatrical shrug. ‘I just may do that.’ Then his face changed. The smile became chilling. ‘But if you’re still in this carriage in one minute, I’ll kill you anyway. So what have you got to lose?’

There was a moment’s hesitation and then a mad scramble of the chosen ones towards the exit. The sound of Laszlo’s laughter pursued them as they clambered down onto the track.

Delphine could no longer see them, but she heard no shots. She heard murmurs. She imagined them looking around them, perhaps expecting guns to go off, then finally turning and starting to run breathlessly along the tunnel. The murmurs receded.

Laszlo looked at Delphine and laughed. ‘Some of them must be your fellow countrymen. They’re heading the wrong way, towards France.’

He moved into the next carriage. Delphine was dragged along with him. He barked at the hostages that they were all to be released. The same happened in Coach One too. She almost dared to hope that it would be her turn next.

She was pushed into the driver’s compartment and dumped on the floor. She watched, bemused, as Sambor detached what looked like oversized skateboards from the sort of oxygen sets she’d seen fire-fighters wear.

Laszlo appeared pleased. He reached down and cut through the duct tape with his knife, and pulled her to her feet.

‘It’s perfectly safe now.’ He peeled the last of the tape from her skin and thrust her against the wall. ‘The fireworks are over. For the moment at least.’

Delphine looked down at the limited edition Omega gleaming on his wrist, dreading what it implied.