The Bergamese Sect (19 page)

Matt’s expression was one of shock. He glanced over at the others. Henric was unmoved, Gerry now fast asleep.

‘
Sorry,’ Matt said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

She waved her hand in dismissal. ‘It’s okay, Matt… really, it’s okay.’ Then she threw the notebook down again and said, ‘I need the toilet.’ She stood, pulled the door open and stepped out.

Henric had fixed an expressionless stare on Matt. ‘She’s very passionate about this. Sometimes you have to tread very carefully with that girl.’

‘
I need to stretch my legs,’ Matt replied and pulled himself out of the seat.

‘
Matt.’ There was a seriousness in Henric’s voice. ‘Stay close, real close.’

Outside, Matt pulled down the window. He was going to stick his head out, get a lung full of fresh, cool air, but the train was moving too fast. Instead, he thrust his hand into the rushing wind and grabbed at the bubbling pressure racing through his fingers.

A vision suddenly sprang into his mind. Of police calling at his mother’s door. The white, stricken expression on her face, listening to them explaining that he was missing. Murder? How could her son be involved in murder? Kidnapped? By who? He wished she didn’t have to hear it, that he could just let her know he was okay. But with a sickening rush of adrenaline, he suddenly remembered; he had no mother to hear the news. She’d been killed with his father in that motorway pileup. Had he disowned the grief long enough to make him forget his parents were dead? He suppressed the guilt of denial; he didn’t need more complications.

Besides, there was nothing to connect him to the three unexplained murders in rush hour London. The police would assume he’d had enough of the mundane office routine and run off to Mykonos to spend his savings. No one would be missing him.

He looked through at their compartment. Gerry was still sleeping, Henric resting his head against the seat, watching the ceiling. On a whim, Matt turned and walked down the corridor, desperate to get a few minutes solitude, without these people watching over him like a new puppy. He passed by the other compartments, one or two of them empty, but most occupied by small groups of people. There were some backpackers playing cards, a young couple getting amorous across a row of seats and a middle-aged businessman eating a sandwich.

In the next carriage, there were more empty compartments. As he approached the end of the corridor, he heard a door sliding open. He stopped, watched, wondering if he should flee back to safety. Then, to his astonishment, he saw Clara, backing out of one of the compartments. She was talking, almost whispering to someone inside, explaining something with rapid movements of her hands. He almost stepped forward to interrupt, see what was going on, but something told him to be wary. An odd feeling of trepidation crept up his spine, tingling the nerves in his face and hands. He stepped backwards, turned quietly, and crept back toward the other carriage.

―
§ ―

Jeff Lewis stepped into the post car and locked the door behind him. ‘Steve?’

A figure emerged from the shadows, arms outstretched, declaring itself weaponless. ‘Okay, Jeff?’

It was Linsky. The two men crouched to the floor, steadying themselves against the rocking motion of the train. They spoke in a hushed tone, their voices calm, precise.

‘
The target’s in the first carriage,’ Lewis said.

‘
Yeah, I saw. With the girl and two accomplices.’

‘
That’s right. But there’s more. I think we have other agents on board, in the next coach along. Two of them.’

‘
Are you sure?’

‘
Pretty sure.’

‘
Describe them.’

‘
Light coloured, waist length jackets. The shorter one has jeans on, straight blonde hair, a bumpy complexion, about twenty-five. The other one has two or three day’s stubble, brown wavy hair, a bit older. He’s wearing black trousers and brown boots. Caucasian, Western features, both of them.’

‘
Okay, got it. What do you think? Should we confront them?’

Lewis bit his lip, thinking for a moment. He drew out his gun and began checking it over. ‘No. I don’t know. We still don’t know who they’re working for. Presumably not the subversives. Why would they be travelling separately? Plus, they killed one of the subversives in Warsaw, remember? They also lost two men in that car crash. Seems they’ve got a strong desire to stay with the target. I think we have to assume they’re the same group that fired on us in Warsaw.’

Linsky nodded.

Lewis dropped his gun back into his jacket, put a hand out behind him and sat on the dusty floor of the carriage. ‘I’m confused,’ he admitted.

Linsky joined him on the floor.

‘
The girl,’ Lewis went on. ‘I just saw her talking with them.’ He looked at Linsky, the confusion clear in his eyes.

‘
She’s one of them? But they killed her partner!’

‘
Odd, isn’t it?’ Lewis went silent for a moment then said, ‘we really need to check with Walsh, find out what he’s uncovered.’ He looked at his watch. It was 23:20.

‘
Walsh won’t have had time for reconnaissance yet. We’ll have to wait till morning. Until then I think we should just sit tight, keep out of their way. Protect the target. You get some sleep if you like. I’ll keep watch, wake you later.’

‘
Okay,’ Linsky said, ‘don’t fall asleep.’ He smiled and crawled off toward a pile of mail sacks.

‘
Steve,’ Lewis called after him. ‘If bullets start flying, don’t hesitate to take them out. Protect the target at all costs.’

Linsky nodded, grabbed a bag of letters and tossed it out of his way.

―
§ ―

Clara returned, threw herself onto the seat. Matt had been back a minute or two, but hadn’t mentioned what he’d seen. And Clara didn’t mention it either. Who had she been talking to? Matt asked himself. Did she have other protectors, as well as Henric and Gerry, watching over them, skulking in the shadows to save them if government agents sprang from a cupboard? It seemed a likely explanation. But why didn’t she mention it? It could save their lives, or the lives of those hanging in the shadows.

Henric was still staring at the ceiling, muted expressions wandering across his face, as if thinking hard about some problem. He bit his lip, screwed up his mouth. Gerry was beginning to snore.

Clara pushed Gerry in the arm. He woke instantly, looked like he was about to jump out the window, but then rubbed his eyes and looked accusingly at Clara.

‘
What?’ he said.

‘
You were snoring,’ she replied. ‘Why don’t you go and look for some food? I’m starved. There must be something to eat on this train.’

Gerry rubbed his eyes again, dragged his palms down his face then stood and went out, disappearing down the corridor.

Matt leant forward. ‘Clara, I’ve been thinking about something you said.’

‘
Yes?’

‘
You said your organisation has its roots in clandestine government programs.’

‘
That’s right.’

‘
What did you mean?’

Clara looked at Henric. Henric lifted his shoulders. ‘Don’t look at me,’ he said. ‘I’m not a historian.’

She turned back to Matt. ‘I’m not sure of the details.’

‘
Well, what do you know?’

‘
I think it started in the ‘20s.’

‘
But I thought UFOs were only discovered in the ‘40s.’

‘
No. That’s just when we started calling them UFOs. It’s just that the ‘40s saw a new interpretation. People have seen odd things in the sky for centuries. Don’t think this is a modern phenomenon, because it’s not.’

‘
And abduction? Is that a modern phenomenon?’

‘
Well, no one’s claimed evidence for a historic abduction. But people have been going missing for years. Throughout history even.’

‘
But these government programs in the ‘20s. What were they exactly?’

Clara fingered the corner of her notebook. She stared at Matt silently then glanced briefly out the window. ‘Like I said, I’m not sure of the details.’

For five minutes they sat without words. Matt drummed his fingers, thought about sleeping and had just made himself comfortable when the sound of heavy footsteps pounded down the corridor.

Gerry. He burst through the door panting, panic contorting his face. ‘Quick!’

‘
What is it?’ asked Clara.

‘
They’re onto us! Two guys, they’re coming!’

Clara remained perfectly collected. She stuffed her notebook in her bag, grabbed the laptop from the seat next to Matt and threw it in his lap. ‘To the back of the train, quickly,’ she whispered.

She pushed him out the door and marched him down the corridor. Gerry and Henric followed, glancing over their shoulders, guns suddenly appearing from within their clothing.

The door to the post car was locked. Clara struggled with it for a moment, but Matt pushed her aside and rammed his shoulder into it. It cracked open and they jumped through.

‘
Gerry,’ Clara called over her shoulder, ‘you hold them off till we get Matt off the train.’

‘
How we gonna do that?’ Henric said. ‘There’s no emergency cord.’

‘
Just hurry,’ the girl screamed. She pushed Matt toward the back of the train, disappearing into the guard’s van. Henric trotted after them.

Once alone, Gerry returned to the door of the post car. He peered back along the train. Suddenly, two men appeared at the far end of the carriage. They stopped, crouched down behind the turn of the corridor and aimed their weapons. A shot fired, the gun’s silencer muting the crack. The bullet embedded itself in the doorframe by Gerry’s head. He raised his gun and let off a single round, but the men didn’t flinch.

One of them suddenly stood, backed away and made a grab for the exit door. He flung it open, the wind rushing into the carriage as his companion fired again. Grabbing the handle, he lunged out of the train. A moment later, the door blew shut, the man gone.

Gerry reversed into the post car and shut the door behind him, the bolt now smashed. He darted behind a pile of boxes, his breathing laboured, sweat coursing down his face. A heartbeat pounded painfully in his throat. He flicked open his gun’s magazine, checked his rounds, and slotted it back into the grip.

Footsteps! He could hear footsteps, but he couldn’t locate their source. Not the door. His brain told him to look up. The roof! The footsteps marched cautiously across the roof of the train, picking their way toward the guard’s carriage.

‘
Shit!’ Gerry said. He ran from his hiding place, following the faint thudding.

Behind him, the door from the carriage suddenly swung open. It slammed against the wall as a man rolled into the post car. A body span into a crouch, pointed a weapon and fired.

The bullet hit Gerry in the back. He felt it thudding into his flesh, burrowing into the muscle, shattering the bone. A coldness came over him instantly and he crumpled to the floor. Another shot resounded, but Gerry didn’t feel another impact. He lay shivering on the floor, his consciousness slipping away. Sound ceased around him; he could hear only the failing heartbeat palpitating within his chest. Across the floor of the post car, his dimming eyesight picked out two figures, their blurred shapes shimmering, fading. A tall, dark man was standing over a lifeless body.

―
§ ―

They were on the observation platform at the back of the train. A metal railing stood in front of them, the safety light flashing its red beacon on the track below. Ladders led off on either side. The black night was rushing past, unable to give them a reference for their speed. But they were thundering along, the noise deafening.

Matt looked out into the oblivion before him, then at Clara and Henric. He grabbed the railing, bending over it, suddenly gripped by a giddy, nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Below, the flash of the lamp picked out a blur of motion, two dark rails in an undulating sea of stones. Matt thought he was going to throw.

‘
We’ll have to jump,’ he heard a voice shouting above the din.

‘
Don’t be stupid, we’ll be killed.’

‘
Any other suggestions?’

Matt pulled himself away from the brink and turned to the others. Their eyes were streaming, clothes flapping. Clara’s short, spiky hair was flattened to her scalp. She grabbed the railing, peered out into the abyss.

‘
You’re right,’ she bellowed. ‘We’d be smashed to pieces.’

There was a bump, deep and metallic above the roar of the wind. They looked back at the guard’s van, but there was nothing visible inside. Another thump.

Suddenly, a shot fired and the railing by Matt’s hand pinged loudly as a bullet span off it, ricocheting into the night. A spark followed after it, extinguished immediately. Matt ducked away, shielding his head, uncertain of the direction of the attack.

Clara was screaming, pointing to the sky. A figure stood above them, on the roof of the guard’s van, buffeted by the gale, a gun held at arm’s length. The man pointed it at Clara, watched her for a moment then moved it slowly toward Henric, aiming it between the eyes.

But Henric was quick; he jumped aside as the trigger was pulled, reaching for his own weapon. The shot grazed off Matt’s left arm, the pain bursting through his body, circles of light exploding in his eyes. He screamed, stumbled toward the railing, swinging around to grab the cold metal.

But the laptop flew up with his sudden momentum, the strap slipping from his grasp. It floated off into the blackness. Clara jumped for it, but the precious computer span away, no longer restrained by the motion of the train. It fell fast, mingling with the blur of the track, lost to the night.