Vorpal Blade (42 page)

It seemed to Paula the Swiss team was proceeding very
efficiently. Beyond the roof it had started to rain, not the
first shower recently to judge by the gleaming metal of
various goods wagons parked on another line. At least half
an hour, she thought, in this dump. She began to walk
further along the curving platform, leaving the checking exercise behind. Then she spotted Sophie huddled on the
only seat in sight. Stacked at the end of the seat were three large suitcases.

'Hello, Sophie,' she said, easing herself onto the damp
seat. 'Might just as well be outside in the rain.'

'The roof leaks but this is the only seat,' Sophie grum
bled.

She was dressed to repel the wet in a heavy rainproof coat. On her head she wore a large rainproof hat with a wide brim. She showed no pleasure at Paula's arrival. In
one of her moods, Paula decided. She nudged her and
tried to cheer her up.

'At least you're dressed for this weather, which is more
than I am.'

'Don't touch me. I don't like people touching me. And
no one asked you to sit here.'

'You did say this was the only seat . . .'

'No, I didn't. I suppose because you can't see another
one you think this is the only seat. It is,' she added
maliciously and giggled.

'Why did you bother to come here? Roman is watching them.'

'Because I am a scientist. I supervised the filling of those
cylinders in London - after checking the quality. When I
got off the train I could see immediately they were checking
properly. Father thinks that by standing over them they
will get on with the job. Good luck to him.'

'I haven't seen Marienetta.'

'Hardly surprising. She said she wasn't coming and went
up to her room. Which probably means she'll turn up on
the next train. She's such a liar. Can't believe one word
she says.'

A drop of water fell on the brim of Sophie's unusual
hat. By now Paula had wrapped a scarf over her own
head. Sophie stood up, took off the hat, shook it so water
splashed on Paula. Sophie's ponytail was tucked well down
inside the collar of her raincoat. She put on the hat, sat
down again heavily.

'You two seem to love each other,' Paula remarked with
a hint of amusement.

'We don't. We never have. Never will.'

Paula heard an engine trundling on the line behind
them. It continued a short distance and then there was
a loud
clang
which made her jump. She looked in that
direction but the angle of the curve now hid the engine
from view.

'What on earth was that?' she asked.

'They're shunting freight cars behind us, forming a
convoy.'

'Wish they'd blow a whistle first.'

'You get used to it. This really is fun,' she grouched.

Paula was inclined to agree with her. More light rain was
falling, like a watery veil. It was very quiet where they sat
together - apart from the
dang
she had just heard. I think
this is one of the loneliest places in the world, Paula was
deciding. And to think Lugano and the lake with the lights
on Monte Bre was only thirty minutes north of them.

She glanced to her right and a dozen yards away saw
Newman standing by one of the ugly iron pillars support
ing the roof. He had just finished a cigarette, stubbed it,
placed it in a litter basket. He gave her the thumb's-
up sign.

'The stupid Swiss,' Sophie began to rave. 'Do they really
think we'd export poison gas to the Middle East? The oxygen is costing them a fortune. I negotiated the deal
with a real haggle over the phone. I ended up by telling him
that if he wouldn't accept our price he could buy inferior
material elsewhere, then slammed down the phone. He was
back on the line within ten minutes, accepting my price. I
made the thug wire the money in advance.'

This was a side to Sophie Paula hadn't seen before. She
was an expert and tough negotiator. She decided to risk asking a dangerous question.

'If Roman retires I suppose one of you - either your
self or Marienetta - will take over running the whole of
ACTIL.'

'It is between the two of us,' Sophie said promptly. 'So Marienetta flatters him which, I think, is a mistake. I just
do my job.'

She took off the glove of her right hand to adjust the
collar of her raincoat. Paula noticed on the third finger
of her right hand she wore a ring with a large ruby. Don't
think I've seen that before, she said to herself. She stood
up, feeling she'd had enough of Sophie. Where she had
sat in the middle of the seat there was a dry patch.

'I'm going for a stroll,' she said. 'Sitting too long makes
me restless.'

'I'm bored stiff,' Sophie said, yawned. 'I'm going to have
a nap.'

A strong breeze was blowing up from the north as Sophie
shut her eyes, huddled deeper inside her heavy raincoat.
Paula pulled up her own collar as she crossed over the
platform, which swept round in a wide curve. Ahead of
her a familiar figure was mooching along, his back to her.
Russell Straub.

What on earth was he doing in Chiasso? It was as though
he couldn't stay away from the Arbogasts. What was the
link? A candidate for the next President of the USA and
a powerful and successful businessman based in London?
Didn't make sense.

In the distance behind her she caught the faint sound
of the shunting engine returning with another large goods
wagon. There must be a loop line the engine could turn on
to so it would be behind the next wagon. How mind-killing
it must be for the staff who worked here. Some maybe
posted here for all their working lives.

She shivered. The fresh breeze was bitter, penetrating
her coat. She waved her arms, slapped her hands round
her body. Didn't seem to make any difference. At least
it was better than sitting still on that seat with miserable
Sophie.

However, she had learned something. If Roman retired
one day control of the giant conglomerate would pass to
Marienetta or Sophie. Which one would he choose? Paula
had no idea. She also doubted whether Roman had any
intention of retiring for years. If ever.

As she approached the convoy of wagons she saw they
were linked together. Obviously at some stage, when a
fresh wagon had been shunted to join the convoy, a
member of staff must come along and link the latest arrival. Nearing the end of the convoy she folded her
arms to try and keep in the warmth still left in her body.
She stopped a distance away, standing near the edge of
the platform. It was something to watch.

The knuckles with a hard end pressed against the middle
of her spine, shoved with great force. She flew forward,
unfolding her arms to have the use of her gloved hands.
Then she landed on the track in the most awkward pos
ition, legs and knees perched on the platform, the rest
of her body over the drop below her thighs. Her gloved
hands had hammered down on stones between rails which stunned her. She tried to heave herself back but her hands
felt like blocks of ice, wouldn't give her the leverage she so
desperately needed. The upper part of her body seemed
anchored to the platform, she couldn't move it. Her head was spinning with shock.

She made herself look towards her right, saw with horror what was coming. The shunted wagon was moving steadily
towards her. She realized her neck was lying across the inner rail nearest the platform. She saw the huge nearside
wheel of the oncoming coach rotating as it advanced
closer and closer to her neck. Oh God! It was going to
decapitate her. The revolving wheel gleamed with wetness.
She could even see a tiny defect in the rim of the relentlessly
advancing wheel. She made a supreme effort to lift herself
with her hands. No strength at all left. Her arms ached.
She had never before felt so paralysed with fear as the remorseless wheel rolled forwards within yards of her.

38

Strong hands grasped her round the chest, heaved her up
and swung her in the same motion to the left - to avoid
the projection of the front of the wagon. Newman was
kneeling on the brink of the platform, the only way he
could have reached her. She came up like a cork out of a bottle as he stood, hauled her back against himself. There
was a deafening
clang
as the buffers of the newly arrived
wagon slammed into the waiting convoy.

Newman lifted her off her feet, carried her towards the
only seat on the platform. As he conducted this manoeuvre
an American voice began bawling at the top of its bellow.

'Emergency! Emergency! Emergency . . . .
'

Paula had her eyes open, saw Russell Straub standing
a mere few feet from where the wagons had collided. He had his hands cupped round his mouth as he repeated his
frantic call.

'Do shut up!' Newman growled.

As they neared the seat Paula saw Sophie open her eyes
and blink. She also saw a dry patch of seat as though Sophie
had moved her position. While asleep? Newman's request
to Sophie was not polite.

'Get off that damned seat. It's needed for Paula. So
shift, damn you.'

It worked. Sophie was so indignant she jumped up and
walked off, her face like thunder. Newman lowered Paula
gently onto the seat. He looked appalled and so guilty.

Resting her back against the seat Paula stretched out her
legs one at a time. They worked normally. She performed
the same exercise with both arms. Same thankful result.

'Are you OK?' Newman asked hoarsely.

'I'll survive,' she said softly. Her throat was so dry.

'God, I'm so sorry,' Newman gasped out. 'I was having
trouble lighting a cigarette. The wind. Had my back turned
towards you. Supposed to guard you, protect you. What a
lousy job I made of that. I am
so
sorry.'

'Don't be silly,' she croaked. 'You did the job. Some
body pushed me over the edge.'

'Who?'
His expression changed to overpowering rage. If
she had been able to give him a name she felt he would
without a second thought have killed them.

'No idea. I'm terribly thirsty. Makes it difficult to talk.'

By now a flock of uniformed officials had rushed down
to the seat, some with white coats, holding masks in their
hands. A guard, who had heard her, reached into his back
pocket and produced a flask.