It Happened on a Train

by Mac Barnett

  “Yeah, I know,” Dana said.

  Steve just nodded.

  “So what are you saying?” Dana asked.

  “What I’m saying is that I’ve been trying to stay out of the game—”

  “The game?”

  “Yes. I’ve been turning down jobs left and right. But I can’t sit back and let this happen. This girl needs a detective. Her life may depend on it. I’m coming out of retirement for one last case. I’m reopening the Brixton Brothers Detective Agency.”

  “Okay.”

  “Dana, we’re back in business.”

  CHAPTER XXI

  BACK IN THE GAME

  “WE?”

  “You’re not going to help?”

  Dana had never much liked sleuthing to begin with, and he liked it even less after being kidnapped twice (Dana said three times, but the third was really just an attempted kidnapping). And getting shot at in a pool. And in a forest.

  “Someone’s life could be on the line,” Steve said. Dana groaned. “Fine. I’ll help. But we are not in business together.”

  “Good,” said Steve. “Now here’s the plan—”

  “Wait,” said Dana. “You said her uncle’s a private detective, right? Let’s get him to help.”

  “And go asking every man traveling alone if he’s Cy Marriner? Wrong. That wastes valuable time. Plus I’m not sure she was telling the truth.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, maybe she was trying to show me up. I mean, I’ve never heard of a private detective named Cy Marriner.”

  “But they’re called private detectives.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not why!” Steve composed himself. “Look, we don’t need to find him, because I already know where Claire Marriner is.”

  “What?”

  “I mean I think I know. Which is one definition of a hunch. And a hunch is basically as good as or better than knowing. Look, Shawn Bailey always says, ‘Sherlock Holmes always says, “Rule out the impossible. What’s left, however improbable, is the solution.”’”

  Steve took a worn black notebook from his back pocket. He showed Dana a page:

  MYSTERY: WHERE IS CLAIRE MARRINER?

  PLACE

  IS CLAIRE MARRINER HERE?

  Seat

  No

  Bathroom

  No

  Underneath a seat

  No

  Luggage rack

  No

  “Why would she be in the luggage rack?” Dana asked.

  “I’m being really thorough, okay?”

  “Okay. So where is she?”

  Steve added to the list:

  The Phantom Car

  “Well we know she’s not there,” Dana said.

  Steve smiled. “How?”

  “Because the conductor said she didn’t come by him. And that you couldn’t get in the car from the train anyway.”

  “And why should we believe the conductor?”

  “Why shouldn’t we believe the conductor?”

  “Because Shawn Bailey always says, ‘Sherlock Holmes always—’”

  “Okay, okay.” Dana looked worried. “Are you sure she’s in the phantom car?”

  “No,” Steve said. “But we have to check it with our own eyes before we can cross it off. We have to get past the conductor and into that car.”

  “And how are we going to do that?”

  “We are going to climb on top of this train.”

  CHAPTER XXII

  PLAN OF ACTION

  “OH NO. THAT’S STUPID. THAT’S SO DUMB,” Dana said, looking out the window. “We’re not climbing on top of any trains.”

  “Sure we are.”

  Dana turned back to Steve. “People don’t do that, Steve.”

  “Actually, detectives do it all the time,” Steve said. “Check it out. I’ll prove it.”

  Steve stood on his chair and pulled down his grandfather’s suitcase. The brass clasps opened with sharp snaps. Steve opened the lid. Inside were clothes, a toiletry kit, and two bags of fruit snacks. Steve felt along the edge of the case. The lining came loose in the corner. Steve’s hand disappeared in the space between the lining and the shell. He dug around for a few seconds and then pulled out a shiny red book. Two carefully groomed teens posed with a grateful policeman on its cover.

  It was The Bailey Brothers’ Detective Handbook.

  Dana’s eyes got big. “I thought you threw those books away!”

  Steve shook his head. “I didn’t. That’s what I was trying to tell you last week before you got all crazy about wizards and sidetracked my whole story.”

  Dana started to say something, but didn’t.

  “I was out there on the curb, and I couldn’t do it. I love these books. I hate their author—he’s a criminal and a psychopath—but his books are really good. And I had a hunch that I would need them again.”

  Dana nodded solemnly.

  “And as usual my hunch was right.”

  Dana rolled his eyes, but Steve was already flipping through the handbook. The book had survived a lot of heavy-duty sleuthing. It was waterlogged and swollen to twice its original size, and its spine was creased and flimsy, but it felt good in Steve’s hands. When Steve found his page, he shoved the book in front of his chum’s face:

  All aboard! When Shawn and Kevin need to sneak around a train, they don’t just walk through the cars. Even if the halls aren’t full of bruisers and finks (which they probably are), there are too many porters trying to serve them lemonade. That’s distracting!

  Instead they make like any good sleuth and climb on the roof! It’s the fastest way to get from A to B, plus there’s plenty of elbow room if you need to throw a haymaker! Sure, it may seem scary, standing atop a locomotive hurtling at 100 m.p.h. But science says everything’s swell: The Baileys banish vertigo by recalling the equations they learned in Mr. Rooney’s physics class:

  INITIAL MASS X INITIAL VELOCITY

  =

  FINAL MASS X FINAL VELOCITY

  [cons. of momentum]

  and

  (1/2)INITIAL MASS X INITIAL VELOCITY2

  (1/2) FINAL MASS X FINAL VELOCITY2

  [cons. of kinetic energy]

  See? Train walking is a cakewalk!

  Dana obviously didn’t like what he was reading. Steve preempted his chum’s doubts. “Okay, so here’s the plan,” he said softly. “We go out a window, one at a time. I’ll give you a boost up there, and—”

  “Why am I going first?”

  “Because you’re taller, and you have better balance.”

  “Right.”

  “I said I’m giving you a boost. This is fifty-fifty here.”

  Dana slumped. “Seems dangerous.”

  “Didn’t you see the equation? So I give you a boost up there, and then you can help me up. Then we’ll run back to the phantom car and figure out how to get in.”

  “Wait, how are we getting in?”

  Steve didn’t have time for this. “I just said, we’ll figure it out.”

  “This isn’t really a plan.”

  “We’re planning to figure it out when we get up there.”

  “Okay,” said Dana. “Then how are you planning to open the window? The train is air-conditioned.” Dana rapped on the window twice to emphasize his point.

  Steve bit his lip. His chum was right. The window didn’t open.

  “Okay. New plan. We have to distract the conductor. You’re going to pull the emergency brake—”

  “Of course,” Dana said.

  “And then fake an injury.”

  “What kind of injury?”

  “I don’t know. A broken leg or a heart attack or something. You figure it out. What’s important is that you’re going to have to keep the conductor distracted. If he tries to leave to find a doctor or something, engage him in conversation—”

  “While I’m having a heart attack.”

  “Meanwhile I’ll go back there and get in the phantom car.”

  “But I thought the c
onductor said there was no way inside it.”

  “But obviously he was lying. Because Claire is inside it, right? Once I get in there, I might have to kayo some guys, so don’t think you’re the only one who has it hard. I mean, all you have to do is fake an injury. Actually, if you can figure out how to slip away after you get the conductor up here, then you could come back and help me fight all these baddies… .”

  “I don’t know about this,” Dana said.

  Steve was putting the handbook back in his suitcase. “Got any better ideas?”

  Dana pointed up to a white button next to the air-conditioning nozzle. “Why don’t we just push that and call the conductor?”

  Steve stared at the button and tried to think of a reason Dana’s plan wouldn’t work.

  “Because when he gets up here and sees that our seats are empty and our button’s lit up, he’ll get suspicious.”

  “So push Rick’s.”

  Steve paused with the lid of his suitcase halfway closed. “That might work.”

  Dana smirked.

  “Look,” Steve said, “that’s basically the same idea I just had. Here we go, chum.”

  “Don’t call me chum,” said Dana.

  Steve shut his suitcase, slipped into the aisle, and hit Rick’s button.

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THIS WAY FOR DANGER

  THE BUTTON’S CLICK woke Rick up. Steve backed across the aisle and bumped into his seat’s armrest.

  Rick yawned and stretched. “Stevie Brix!” he said. He looked expectantly at the boys. “Get it?”

  “Get what?” Steve asked.

  “Stevie Brix.” Rick looked at Steve and then Dana like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “Stevie Brix?”

  “Like Stevie and then the first part of my last name?”

  “No! I guess you’re too young for the reference. Too bad. That was a pretty good joke.”

  Steve doubted it. But he needed Rick’s cooperation, so he laughed anyway.

  “There you go,” said Rick. “So what’s going on, my man? Where you going with that suitcase? You know this train’s moving, right?”

  “Dana and I are just going to go find this girl I met earlier in the café car.”

  “Ooooooohh,” Rick said.

  “It’s not even like that,” said Steve.

  “Sure. Sure.” Rick held his hand up. “Okay. That’s cool. Very cool.”

  Steve and Dana started walking.

  “Just don’t leave the train!” Rick called after them, and laughed.

  Steve laughed too, and then Dana did.

  When they got to the back of their car, Steve ducked into the last row of seats.

  “Wait here,” he said, pulling Dana down after him. Steve looked out the window. “What are we doing?” Dana asked, but Steve waved the question off.

  Thirty seconds later the conductor entered their car. He passed by the boys and walked up to Rick. Rick looked confused.

  “Now,” Steve said. He and Dana jumped into the aisle and exited the car. They hurried back, back, back through the cars until they stood in front of the orange sticker that said DANGER.

  Dana eyed the sign.

  Steve tried to lighten the mood. “Let’s hope there are no boggarts back there.”

  “Balrogs,” said Dana.

  “Whatever,” said Steve. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER XXIV

  THE SECRET PANEL

  TINY VESTIBULES connected all the cars on the Sunset Coastliner. These little compartments were the joints that held the train together. Passengers traveling between cars had to pass through a noisy no-man’s-land: on one end the door they’d just come through, and on the other the door they would enter. Steve liked these little spaces, all gleaming metal curves; they were the only parts of the train that didn’t feel cheap.

  Steve and Dana stood in the vestibule and stared at the phantom car. From out here it looked just like every other car on the train—shiny and lined with rivets—except for one thing: There wasn’t any door.

  “There’s no door!” Dana yelled above the roar of the tracks.

  “I see that!” Steve said.

  “Looks like the conductor wasn’t lying!”

  Steve wasn’t ready to admit that. He felt the smooth wall, pushing and pressing and tapping.

  “What are you doing?” Dana asked.

  “Looking for a secret panel!”

  The train swung around a corner. Steve stumbled.

  “Come on!” said Dana. “There’s no secret panel!”

  The train rocked, and Steve fell face-first into the wall of the phantom car. His cheek pressed against the smooth metal. Steve secretly hoped his fall would trigger a secret panel. It didn’t.

  “There must be some way into this car!” Steve said.

  Steve was getting frustrated.

  He banged his head against the wall.

  This also did not trigger a secret panel.

  Behind Steve, Dana shouted something.

  “What?” Steve asked.

  Before he could turn around, a large hand grabbed Steve by the back of his neck.

  Someone had entered the vestibule from the Death Valley car.

  The grip on Steve’s neck was tight, and it hurt. Steve threw his elbows behind him. They hit somebody, but the grip did not loosen.

  Steve tilted his head back and looked up at the chin of the scar-faced man, who had Dana in an identical hold with his left hand. Dana gave Steve a look that said, This is all your fault.

  His hands still gripping the boys’ napes, the man shuffled forward a bit and kicked a rivet with a scuffed brown shoe. There was a pneumatic hiss, and a piece of the wall slid open.

  Steve gave Dana a look that said, I told you there was a secret panel. The man tightened his hold when Steve turned his head. Steve winced.

  Saying nothing, the scar-faced man pushed the boys forward, through the doorway, and into the phantom car.

  The secret panel slid closed behind them.

  CHAPTER XXV

  CAPTURED!

  IT WAS QUIET, AND DARK, and Steve opened his eyes wide while they adjusted.

  “Let us out of here!” Steve said.

  “Shut up,” the man said. “Walk.”

  They were in a narrow corridor lit by a dim yellow lamp encased in a wire cage on the ceiling. The walls were metal, painted light green, and full of handles and hinges.

  The man released Dana and Steve and shoved them forward. The hallway required them to proceed single file. Steve considered bolting, shoving his way past the man, and escaping the car. If he and Dana worked together—

  “Don’t even think about it.” The man’s voice came out as a nasty slurry of anger and menace.

  Steve stopped thinking about it. He walked.

  Stenciled letters on the wall said things like SWITCH BOX and ICE-ACTUATED COOLING SYSTEM and CONDUCTOR’S VALVE FOR EMERGENCY ONLY. Two wood doors were closed on Steve’s right. Classical music played faintly somewhere ahead.

  And then the corridor ended. Steve stood in front of a wide door.

  “Go ahead,” the man said. “Go.”

  Steve turned the brass knob and pushed.

  The door opened into a spacious, well-lit, wood-paneled room. It was probably the acest place Steve had ever seen. Huge windows revealed a sandy beach to the right and a sloping green hill to the left, both passing by at tremendous speeds. Plush sofas, overstuffed chairs, and tables with elaborate reading lamps lined the walls. It looked like an illustration right out of a Bailey Brothers book.

  There were three people in the compartment. Steve took in the scene in the seconds before they all looked up at him. A woman sat playing the cello. A thin man with a mustache relaxed in an overstuffed club chair. And on the sofa, reading an old brochure, was Claire Marriner.

  It looked just like an illustration in a book.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  A STRANGE CAR

  “CLAIRE!” Steve said.

  The w
oman stopped playing. The man stood. Claire looked up from the brochure.

  “Steve!” she said brightly. Steve was happy that she was happy to see him.

  “You know these guys?” asked the scar-faced man.

  “Just Steve,” said Claire.

  “This is Dana,” said Steve.

  “Hi, Claire,” said Dana.

  “Cyrus, what is going on?” asked the woman with the cello.

  “Cy Marriner?” Steve asked, turning around. “You’re a private detective?”

  The scar-faced man looked confused. “You’ve heard of me?”

  “Nope,” said Steve.

  “All right, all right,” said the thin, mustached man in the club chair. Steve guessed he was about six feet tall and in his fifties. He had a square jaw and was the first man Steve had ever seen wear an ascot in real life. It was yellow and polka-dotted and weirdly didn’t look as goofy as it could have. He raised his hand. “Let’s all quiet down and sort this out. Cyrus, who are these boys?”

  “I caught the blond one snooping around the train back in Santa Lucia, Mr. V.,” Cy Marriner said. “And just now, when I was coming back, I found him and his little friend trying to force their way into this car.”

  “And?” asked the thin man.

  “What do you mean, ‘and?’” said Cy Marriner. “Seems pretty suspicious.”

  The thin man chuckled. “Cyrus. They’re just children. They could hardly be car thieves—they don’t even know how to drive.”

  “Actually, I do,” said Steve.

  The man looked surprised. “Well, anyway, I’m sure they wouldn’t steal a car.”

  Actually, Steve had, technically. Twice. Once with Dana and once without. But it seemed better to leave that out right now.

  “Now,” said the man, “would one of you lads care to tell us why you were loitering outside this car?”

  Steve put his suitcase down on the ground and opened it. “I was looking for Claire, to give her this.” He pulled Pride and Prejudice out and showed it to the man.