Midnight Flit

by Elin Gregory

  Briers strolled along the corridor towards the car where Pritchard had assured him he would find comfortable chairs and a bar. His own sleeping carriage was quiet, but in the next was a lot of activity, bearing in mind it was gone midnight. Quite a party seemed to be going on in the suite-sized compartment commanded by Ruby Aston. Some of the Baker entourage had joined her and her friends, and it appeared that someone had brought a case of champagne.

  Nik raised a glass to him as he passed, and Ruby called an invitation, but jamming himself into an already-packed sleeping berth didn't hold out any attraction. Briers made his excuses, and passed on across the concertina connection and into the final carriage.

  In comparison the bar area was a haven of peace. Briers only had to wait a few moments while the barman served another customer. That it was Jonah Rudd didn't surprise him, but that he offered to buy Briers a drink did.

  "I'll have the same," he said when Briers put in his order. "Make them doubles."

  "Mr Rudd," Briers said. "That's generous of you. Not joining the party?"

  "No, I am not." Rudd's scowl didn't lift even after they had both sampled the excellent whisky. "I wash my hands of Miss Aston. The stupid child has decided Hollywood isn't good enough for her. She wants to be a 'proper' actress. As if she's capable of it."

  "Well, I'm no theatre critic," Briers said, "but she's a pretty girl with a pleasant manner. In the right play she might do well." He remembered some of the stories theatrically-inclined friends had told him. "A lot might depend on how prepared she is to learn from the professionals."

  "She's a star already," Rudd said. "She's got this crazy idea to set up home in London with that idiotic Russian."

  "Nik?" Briers laughed. "Love at first sight, was it?"

  "The only thing he loves is eating regularly without having to work for it. And that black who hangs around him is even worse. It's my belief that they are, shall we say, closer than they've led us to believe. Disgusting creatures. Mark my words," Rudd added with relish, "it'll be a disaster!"

  Briers sipped his whisky, the smooth bite of it helping him to ignore the skin-crawling distaste Rudd always aroused in him. "Ah well, she'll need to know where to find her friends, then, won't she?"

  "Hah, I'll see her starve first."

  Briers had quite enough of that and sank his drink. "Ah, there's someone I needed to see. Excuse me, Mr Rudd."

  "All right, but be warned. These women are all the same."

  Briers set his back to Rudd and sought out Pritchard who had a drink of his own and a heavy book open on his knee.

  "Good evening, sir," he said, as Briers approached. "Is there anything I can help you with."

  "Absolutely nothing," Briers said and grinned at him. "I don't need an excuse to talk to the most sensible man on the train, do I?"

  "Ah," Pritchard grinned too and closed his book. Hall Caine. Briers would have closed it too. "And what has Mrs Carstairs done?"

  "Nothing at all - well, nothing objectionable. She's in conference with her mother and Miss Carey and since I was de trop I thought I'd seek out some manly company."

  "Plenty of choice here, sir." Pritchard said. "Mr Lacroix is with someone from Miss Baker's entourage. I believe that he is being advised to get another couple of years' experience but they would like to hear from him again. That is nice, because he seems an amiable young gentleman and a quite remarkable pianist. And Mr Smethwick has been talking to that Swiss gentleman, Favre, and doesn't seem at all happy. Loyalty and fidelity have been mentioned, as has being prepared to stand in the line of fire. I wouldn't be surprised if Mr Smethwick punched his head."

  Briers reflected that, just as curiosity was an ideal trait for a spy, so lip-reading seemed to be an essential skill for a servant of Pritchard's elevated class.

  "Do you think I ought to rescue him, Pritchard?"

  "I think the Swiss gentleman can look after his own safety," Pritchard said with such reassuring gravity that Briers laughed aloud.

  His shout attracted the attention of both Smethwick and Falk, who began to make his way towards Briers, and the dog accompanying the couple at the next table yapped. Briers ignored it, but gave the young man a nod of acknowledgement.

  "Mr Hayman?" Pritchard murmured, his voice too low for Hayman and his lady to hear. "Oh dearie me, there's been a to-do. A very discreet to-do. They got on the train with one small case between them and no berth booked, and Mr Hayman is most upset. I believe, from what has been said, that they may have left the hotel bill unpaid."

  Briers fizzed with laughter. "Oh wait 'til I tell Emily. A midnight flit. That's priceless!"

  "Not a laughing matter for the hotel, sir," Pritchard said, and Briers raised a hand to register the hit.

  "Yes, of course. One hopes they have insurance for that kind of thing."

  "So one hopes, sir." Pritchard checked his watch and stood. "It's coming up to 1a.m., sir, so I think I'll turn in if you don't mind?"

  "Will you be able to sleep in this racket?"

  "It's hardly anything at all after the Western Front, sir," Pritchard said. "And I have a clear conscience. I will sleep sound."

  "I'll turn in soon." Briers got up too and offered his hand. "Good night, Pritchard."

  "Good night, sir." Pritchard's grasp on his hand tightened as they both heard a distinct dull thud. "Explosives, sir. Oh Duw!"

  The brakes came on with a great shriek and all the lights flickered. Briers staggered and grabbed onto the luggage rack with one hand, Pritchard with the other. All around them he heard bodies falling, the smash of glasses at the bar, and louder, less identifiable but completely awful sounds in the distance. He clung on while the train lurched and bumped and ground to a halt.

  The lights went out. There was a moment of silence then everyone began to shout at once. A woman shrieked. Someone tore a door open and flung themselves out. Someone else blundered into Briers's shins and began to climb up him, babbling in French. Briers heaved them to their feet and placed them in his chair. He picked Falk's voice out of the babble, calling for order first in French and then in perfect barely accented English. "For pity's sake, will you all be quiet!"

  Under the grip of Briers's hand Pritchard's shoulder squared and he took a deep breath.

  "Silence," he bellowed, and Briers imagined him calling his troops to order before leading them into the hell of Mametz Wood. "There's good gentlemen. And if the lady could be quiet, too, that would be a help."

  There was, almost, silence broken only by the tinkle of broken glass and panicky breathing then by a voice.

  "Well really," Cynthia ffoulkes-Collinson said. "How rude."

  "Oh shut up, Cynthia." Gervaise Hayman sounded more assertive than Briers would have expected.

  "We need to know what has gone wrong before we panic," Pritchard added. "But first we need light."

  "Nobody light a match," Briers shouted. "Barman, is there a gas line to the carriage?"

  "No sir." The barman's voice was steady, as befitted an employee of the most famous travelling hotel company in the world. "We have all electrical lighting and the heating is from a little coal fired boiler. I am lighting some candles. Everyone, please, just stay still." Light bloomed into three bright gold spires and the barman held up a silver candelabrum, illuminating a mess of broken glasses and bottles and the anxious faces of the passengers. "Ladies and gentlemen, please take a seat and remain in the carriage while I ascertain what has happened. If I could ask for a few of the gentlemen to volunteer to come with me? Yes, thank you, sirs."

  The barman lit more candles and placed them on the bar then took out some substantial bulls-eye lanterns and distributed them to the volunteers. There were plenty. Nobody was in any real doubt what had happened, especially once someone looked out of the window and exclaimed at the light of fire in the sky. Pritchard certainly felt the need to prepare for the worst. He was snapping orders - move those chairs, put those tables together, fetch hot water, make bandages - in a way that, while brusque, wa
s calming to the people around him. Briers hoped it would be unnecessary, but recalled how the barman had glanced at his watch and the colour had drained from his face. So, maybe the train hadn't just stopped then? Maybe... He diverted his thoughts ruthlessly. Miles was a tough little bastard and Briers refused to contemplate any outcome that didn't end with Miles warm and happy in his arms.

  "Come on, lads," he called. "Let's get on."

  He wasn't at all surprised to find Falk at his shoulder, but smiled when Ari Lacroix took a lantern from Falk's hands.

  "I am not strong," Lacroix said. "But I can hold a light for those who are."

  "That's a good idea," Falk said.

  "I'll come too," Hayman said and took the lamp from Briers.

  "But Gervaise," Cynthia protested, "what about me?"

  "You're in the warm and dry with a bar, Cynthia." Gervaise couldn't have sounded less sympathetic. "I don't think you'll come to any harm."

  "She'll be too busy," Pritchard spoke up. "She's of an age to have done war work - "

  "Well, really, I'm not nearly old enou - "

  "Rubbish, madam, you're plenty old enough to help me set up a triage point, and if you haven't the stomach to actually treat the wounded you can sit in your chair and wind bloody bandages." Pritchard gave Briers a nod, his eyes fierce. "Go and see what's what, sir. We'll be ready when needed."

  The barman headed for the connection between the coaches, with Briers and Falk close on his heels, but had to step back as the door burst open. Nik darted through, his eyes wild in a pale face, and he pushed past the barman to grab Briers.

  "You must come," - his voice was breaking - "your ladies - you must come. No, not that way. We must get out and down, onto the tracks. The carriages - they are gone."

  "Gone?" Falk said.

  Briers was glad he had spoken, because he didn't think he could get the words out himself. That roaring fury was beginning to consume him again, so loud that he could barely hear Nik's reply.

  "There's a bridge, or - or something, I think. The carriages are just... gone."

  "There's a viaduct." The barman's voice broke as he shooed them back and thrust a door open, letting in a gust of cold smoke-laden air. "I had hoped not, but... There are two. I must stop any traffic on the other line in case there is a... a problem there too. Be careful, sirs, it is a long drop to the tracks and the ground falls away steeply."

  He clambered out and down. Briers would have been hot on his heels but Falk gripped his arm and drew him back. "Perhaps Mr Utkin could help the people with lights get down? Then we'll be able to see what we're doing," he suggested, then turned to Briers and hissed, "You must keep your head. This may be an accident but it may not. There may be an ambush. And you will not be able to help Mi... Mrs Carstairs if you are frantic with worry."

  Briers nodded once, a sharp jerk of the head.

  "Where's Smethwick?"

  "When we heard the explosion he went white," Falk said. "I think he was the one who went out through the door."

  "He should be here doing his fucking job," Briers snapped, but Falk shook his head.

  "We have all known men troubled with bad memories of explosions," he said. "Come, let us be glad we are free of them."

  The ground fell away sharply at the edge of the tracks, where it had been banked up to lead into the stone structure of a viaduct. There were maybe a dozen people already scrambling down the steep slope, exclaiming their horror, calling for lights, calling to anyone still in the carriages. Ruby Aston stood nearby, her arm around Janice who was sobbing against her shoulder.

  "Tell us what we can do?" Ruby demanded. "We want to help."

  Once again Falk stepped in. "Ask for a gentleman called Pritchard in the last carriage there. He will know what's best."

  Janice sucked in a deep breath. "First aid, Ruby," she said, her voice thick with tears. "Oh God, maybe there we won't be able to hear them."

  Briers realised that at least part of the roaring was from the flames of the stricken locomotive and some from the voices of the injured. It wasn't hard to see what had happened. An explosion on the tracks - not an accident, Briers could see the twisted metal - had derailed the engine and it had taken most of the coaches with it. Most had landed on their sides or roofs in the valley, but one - the one in which Briers had so recently teased Miles about silk pyjamas - had landed on end and was propped, wheels outermost, against the stone support. He scrambled after Hayman with his lantern. The barman was shouting instructions, sending a sleeping car attendant and two more men off to a village that was apparently nearby, and others to stop any further rail traffic.

  "Just stop the trains," he said. "Do not go onto the other viaduct. There may be more explosives." As Briers reached them, the barman sent Hayman and others forward along the line of broken coaches towards where the flames were leaping high. "There's a passenger car and two sleeping cars. Rescue whoever you can, but don't put yourselves in danger. Help will soon be here. And you, sirs - " The barman turned towards them but Briers interrupted.

  "My berth is in this carriage," he said, pointing to the wreckage. "My wife and her mother and a friend are there. I will come and help - I will, but first - "

  "Of course, sir." The barman put his hand on Briers's shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. "I know I can count on you to do what you can for the other passengers as well."

  "We will help," Falk said. "That coach does not look stable to me."

  "Yes," Ari said. "Come on, Nik."

  "I see someone," Nik pointed at the smashed windows. Ari swung the beam of his lantern and illuminated a bloodied steward crawling into the light.

  "Get back," the steward gasped. "It's going to fall."

  He struggled to stand but one leg was at an odd angle and Briers and Nik pressed him down.

  "You stay there," Nik said. "Help vill soon be here. Ve vill be heroes, no?"

  "We'll have to climb to reach the higher compartments." Briers was desperate to get inside, but breaking his own leg wouldn't help Miles. "We could use a rope or something to lower people down."

  "Sheets," Falk suggested. "Useful for more than bandages. And we need more light."

  "I think we are about to have some." Ari kept the beam of the lantern steady but had been looking about him. "On the road. I can see headlights. There must be a town close enough for them to have heard the blast."

  "I hope they have firemen and doctors," Briers said. "But there's no need for us to wait. Come on, let's get to it."

  Briers would never have guessed how useful a failed ballet dancer, how practical a jazz pianist, and how comforting an international assassin could be. In minutes they were clambering gingerly into the carriage, while Ari trained the light through the smashed windows. The carriage had crumpled, and sure enough there were some injured people - but not many, and all so eager to be helped out. Nik banged at doors and bellowed cheerful encouragement to speak up. "Ve vill pull you out," he called. "Ve have lights. There vill be brandy and wodka. I promise this. I, Nikolai Utkin, once of the ballet Bolshoia and now of - vhat is that thing ve are of, Ari?"

  "No fixed abode," Ari called, shining the beam of light into the corridor. "Until we reach London, then I have a place we can go."

  Nik laughed and wrenched the splintered door off a sleeping berth. He peered inside, grinned and began to help out a burly man in pyjamas.

  "If you need a home," the man said, "you've got one. I thought I was done for. My back, you see." He let out a yell as Nik heaved him through the doorway, but he moved well enough with Briers and Falk's assistance. "I heard movement further up the corridor," he said as they helped him through the window. "And voices. There was a child crying. And a woman."

  "Never fear, ladies," Nik bellowed. Briers wondered how much he'd had to drink. "Ve vill rescue you. Ve are the - what is is called? Ari, what is that thing vhere the countries come together?"

  "League of Nations," someone yelled and Briers almost lost his footing with relief.

  "
Emily?" He shouted up to her. "Are you all together? Is anyone hurt."

  "Briers? Oh, thank God." And that was Miles voice. Briers throat tightened. "Diana's arm is broken and the door has jammed."

  "We'll soon have you out," Briers promised. "Rip up some sheets for a rope. That'll be useful for people further up the carriage."

  "What on earth do you thinking we've been doing all this time?" Miles sounded irritated, which meant, Briers knew from experience, that he was hugely relieved and had been scared, and would soon need a very complete and lengthy cuddle. "Crochet? Tatting? Writing our memoirs? We've made thirty feet so far. Here, watch it doesn't land on your fat head."

  The coil of fabric did land on Briers's head, but he didn't mind in the least. He laughed as he heard Emily make an offer and Miles snippily assert that he didn't need nail scissors to get the next tear started.

  Nik kicked another door off its runners, and Falk leaned in to scoop out a tear-stained elderly lady in a blond mink coat worth hundreds. She was holding a Pomeranian the exact same colour of the coat. It looked nearly as bewildered as she did.

  "I was asleep," she said. "What on earth happened?"

  They carried her out and left Ari to explain the situation, then went back for a married couple, wide-eyed and shocked. He was sporting a colossal bruise on his forehead and she was favouring a twisted ankle. Briers was astonished at the number of people who could leave the train under their own steam once they had been lowered down the steep shaft of the corridor. "I suppose it's because they were asleep in bed," he said to Falk. "Pillows and a good mattress and all those soft furnishings."

  "And they were relaxed. Like if you fall over when you're drunk." Falk grinned. "Remember that Christmas with the cherry brandy? You falling down two flights of stairs and carrying on singing Tannenbaum without missing a beat."

  "I think you're confusing me with some other poor innocent led astray by an utter villain," Briers said.