Danger at Dead Man's Pass

by M. G. Leonard

  ‘What has this got to do with Connie?’ Bertha asked.

  ‘When we arrived, the baron introduced my uncle as Nat Strom, and Connie stared at him. That evening, she asked me why we were here. She told me to tell my dad that I wanted to go home.’ He paused. ‘She knew my uncle wasn’t the real Nat Strom, because . . . she is.’

  ‘Connie is Nat Strom?’ Freya gasped.

  ‘Natalie Strom.’ Hal nodded, pulling the photograph from his pocket. ‘With her heart set on buying this place, she disguised herself as Connie Müller and arrived pretending Alexander had hired her. She learned as much as she could about the curse, talking to Aksel, Arnold and Bertha. She discovered the key to the private library and read the commonplace book about the death of Frau Babelin’s son.’

  ‘It was Connie who turned the corner of the page over!’ Hilda exclaimed.

  ‘Yes. She told Aksel she’d seen the witch in the woods. She frightened Arnie when he came home late one night.’

  ‘I wasn’t scared really,’ Arnie muttered.

  ‘Connie would dress up as the witch Arnold described, a ghostly face, a grey cloak, long dark hair and stand on Dead Man’s Pass when she knew Arnold was playing with his trains, and likely to look out of the window.’ He turned to Arnold. ‘Connie thought she was scaring you with the curse. Little did she know that the description you gave out of the witch was the description of the contact you once handed over secrets to. You thought the woman you saw in the pass was an enemy agent.’

  ‘She couldn’t have been my old contact,’ Arnold explained. ‘My contact was the same age as me, but she had the grey cloak. I thought it was a warning.’

  Hal looked around the circle of faces. ‘Connie’s aim was to scare Arnold, and all of you, into selling up and moving to Berlin with Alexander. If Arnold had died of a heart attack, it would have worked for her too, because the house would pass to Alexander, and he was keen to sell it.’

  ‘All that for some land.’ Clara looked stunned.

  ‘It’s not just a bit of land,’ Hal said. ‘You cannot buy land up here – most of it is a national park. Oliver, you told me that there’s so much culture, nature and history here that tourists come from all over the world. A big hotel resort would make a lot of money, especially with its own private branch line on to the Brockenbahn.’

  There was a murmur as everyone realized this was true.

  ‘Alexander didn’t know that the nurse looking after his father was Natalie Strom. When Connie learned he was visiting, she kept out of the way, hoping her intimidation tactics would have made Arnold change his mind about the sale. But when Alexander tried again to persuade his father to sell the house Arnold refused again, and they quarrelled. Alexander was angry that his father was being so stubborn. He went to the study and drank whisky. Bertha went to talk to him about Arnie’s future. Alexander had promised to create a job for him at K-Bahn, but Alexander was cross with Bertha for hiring a nurse and blamed her for his father’s stubborn behaviour. They argued.’ Bertha gave a slight nod of her head. ‘Alexander stormed out of the house, walking down the railway line into Dead Man’s Pass.’

  Hal paused. Every person in the circle was holding their breath.

  ‘What I think happened next is this: Connie had lit candles, putting them in the eyes of the skull, and was wearing the witch’s grey cloak, her face painted white, ready to frighten Arnold when he looked out of his window. She must have thought it would help Alexander’s case. When she sees him storming along the tracks, Connie steps out from her hiding place, forgetting her ghostly face and witch’s cloak. Alexander’s body is already flooded with adrenalin and whisky from the arguments he’s had. The shock of the sudden appearance of the witch from the curse triggers a heart attack. Connie pulls off her wig and loosens his collar, telling him what she’s doing, how she’s trying to help him. Alexander grabs her face, her white make-up getting on his fingers. He’s horrified by her plan to terrorize his family and his heart gives out.’ He turned to the baron. ‘Alexander died realizing he’d put his father’s life in danger. That’s why he looked the way he did.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘But now, Connie is in trouble. Alexander is no longer able to sell her the house if Arnold dies. And she cannot run away, because that would cast suspicion on Alexander’s death and her. She promotes the idea that the curse and the witch are responsible for Alexander’s heart attack. She decides to stick to her plan, hoping Alexander’s death will make Arnold want to sell. She must have got a nasty shock when Freya stepped off the train for the funeral and was so obviously happy to be home.’

  ‘Because now I will inherit the house.’ Freya looked at her father, and he nodded. ‘I would never sell it, Papa.’

  ‘You were here when Alexander died. I heard you say so,’ Ozan said accusingly. ‘Why?’

  ‘Papa had written saying he wished us to meet. I was unsure. I brought Rada to Wernigerode. We rented a place. I hoped to pluck up the courage and knock on the door of my old home, but then came the news that Alexander had died, and I returned to Cologne.’

  ‘But you have a plan,’ Ozan persisted.

  ‘We do,’ Freya smiled at Rada. ‘We’re moving back here, permanently, to be close to Papa.

  ‘Alexander’s funeral was Connie’s last chance to scare you all away,’ Hal said. ‘She increased the horror of the curse by putting blood in your gloves.’

  ‘Where did she get it from?’ Hilda wondered.

  ‘She could have got it from a butcher in Wernigerode, or . . .’

  ‘Oh no!’ Hilda’s hand went to her face. ‘Not the poor goat!’

  ‘The goat did go missing the day before the funeral,’ Hal observed.

  ‘Brutal!’ Ozan grimaced.

  ‘What about the rocks that nearly fell on us?’ Herman asked. ‘Did Connie do that?’

  ‘Yes.’ Hal nodded. ‘Do you remember? She came to the tower and asked us what we were going to do the next day. We told her we were going into the pass for a snowball fight. The next morning, she put Arnold’s boots in her bag, released the goat, and asked Aksel to help her look for it. She split off from him, put on the boots, went to the top of the pass and sent down a shower of stones and snow.’

  ‘She attacked you?’ Clara looked at Herman in horror.

  ‘Her plan was to frighten us, and to point the finger at Aksel. He has the same shoe size as Arnold, and when we discovered the footprints in the snow he was our number one suspect.’

  ‘And because of his locket,’ Ozan said. ‘It has the initials GB engraved on it.’

  ‘It was Connie who told us to look out for that locket,’ Hilda pointed out.

  ‘That was his mother’s necklace,’ Bertha said. ‘Her name was Greta Balzer before she was married.’

  ‘At the funeral, Connie suggested Clara take Arnold back to Berlin, but Arnold wouldn’t hear of it. That’s when she came up a new plan. She’d learned that morning, from me and Aksel, that a steam engine empty of water could explode. If the locomotive exploded in the station, the house would be destroyed. You’d have to leave. Stromacre could swoop in and buy the cursed place at a low price.’

  ‘It would have killed Opa and Herman!’ Arnie was outraged.

  ‘Either that hadn’t crossed her mind, or she didn’t care,’ Hal said. ‘On the way back from the funeral she told Rada about the papers in Alexander’s desk that incriminated Uncle Nat. She wanted you to call the police, anticipating you’d all leave the house. Having already sedated Arnold, she asked Aksel to leave the train and go with her to the train shed, where she hit him with a spanner. Returning to the loco, she filled the furnace with coal, grabbed her bags and left. Anyone searching for her would be looking for Connie Müller, not Natalie Strom.’

  ‘I would like to get my hands on that woman,’ Freya said, strangling the air in front of her.

  ‘There’s no knowing where she is now,’ Hal said with a sigh.

  ‘Well, the good news is that she isn’t here
any more,’ Alma said. ‘Now finish your drinks, children, it’s bedtime. You’ve had a long day.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  THE RED SIGNAL

  The next morning, in the library, Hal opened his eyes to see hundreds of book spines standing guard around him. Ozan and Herman were sitting on Hilda’s mattress, all three of them whispering.

  ‘You’re awake!’ Hilda smiled.

  ‘We’ve decided,’ Herman said, ‘that even though you’re not our cousin we’d like you to be.’

  ‘We want to make you our honorary second cousin,’ Ozan said, and the three of them nodded.

  Hal beamed. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Do you really have to go today?’ Hilda asked.

  Hal nodded. ‘I promised my mum I’d be home before Easter.’

  ‘Is there time for one last snowball fight before you leave?’ Ozan said.

  ‘Definitely,’ said Hal, grinning.

  Clara’s head peered round the library door. ‘We’re going to put the breakfast out here on the hall table. Collect a plate and help yourself when you are ready.’

  Herman bounced over to Arnie’s bed and shouted, ‘Aufwachen, Weichei! ’ then squealed as Arnie roared like a bear and pretended to grab him.

  Hal stretched and got up. Pulling on his jumper, he looked out of the library window. To his surprise, he saw a red car parked askew in the middle of the driveway. A blonde woman was struggling in the driver’s seat. Standing on the bonnet of the car was a goat.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Herman, coming to his side.

  ‘Rufen Sie die Polizei!’ Arnie shouted. ‘It’s Connie!’

  ‘Oh, it’s the missing goat!’ Hilda did a dance of joy.

  ‘Connie is handcuffed to the steering wheel,’ said Hal, astonished.

  Connie was glaring at the house and yanking her wrists against the cuffs.

  ‘Where did she come from?’ Ozan asked.

  ‘Maybe the goat caught her.’ Hilda giggled.

  ‘Someone must have,’ Arnie said, and they all turned to Hal.

  ‘Don’t look at me!’ Hal said with a shrug.

  The police arrived quickly and arrested Natalie Strom. Clara, Bertha and Freya wanted to give her a piece of their mind, but the baron insisted they remain inside, leaving Uncle Nat and Oliver to speak to the police. He declared that they’d been upset enough by the woman, and now must move forward and let the authorities deal with her.

  As soon as the police were gone, the children ran out into the snow and began making an arsenal of snowballs. Arnie joined them, shouting, ‘Brothers against the others!’ beckoning Herman to his side.

  Clara and Bertha sat on the steps drinking coffee and watching the children play, laughing as Arnie threw himself in front of snowballs aimed at Herman.

  Uncle Nat came out with their bags and waved at Hal as a taxi came up the drive. They stopped throwing snowballs as Hal said, ‘It’s time for me to go.’

  ‘Will you come and visit us in Munich sometime?’ asked Hilda, and Ozan nodded.

  ‘I’d like that.’

  Herman threw his arms round Hal, and then so did Hilda and Ozan. Arnie laughed and shouted something in German before joining the hug and leaning against them with all his weight, tumbling them into the snow together, laughing.

  *

  Beneath the high, blue, glass arches of Berlin Hauptbahnhof, Hal and Uncle Nat alighted from their train, making their way to their next connection through the station, which was humming and bustling with travellers.

  ‘Is it far to Brussels?’ Hal asked as they studied the platform screens.

  ‘Less than two hours after we change at Cologne,’ replied Uncle Nat. ‘We’ll have time for a quick snack before we catch the Eurostar.’ He pointed. ‘Platform thirteen – that’s us.’

  Weaving through ambling tourists, they found space on a bench and sat down to wait for the high-speed Intercity Express train.

  ‘Do you think Connie will go to prison for a long time?’

  ‘I expect so.’

  ‘She seemed so nice,’ Hal said with a sigh. ‘Funny how people can appear to be one way, but turn out to be someone different.’ He looked at his uncle meaningfully.

  ‘On that subject . . .’ Uncle Nat said. ‘I wanted to thank you for keeping my past a secret when you explained what we were doing at Schloss Kratzenstein.’

  ‘A promise is a promise.’

  ‘Yes, and you kept it.’ Uncle Nat smiled gratefully, then glanced at the watches on his left wrist. ‘We have a few minutes before the train arrives. Why don’t I get us some spaghetti ice cream for the journey?’

  ‘Spaghetti ice cream?’

  ‘You’ll love it,’ said Uncle Nat. ‘Back in a second.’

  Hal sat with their bags, enjoying the sights and sounds of the futuristic station, when he heard a low insistent voice say, ‘Don’t turn round, Harrison.’

  Hal froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a woman with dark hair sitting on the bench directly behind him. She wore a grey coat and was facing the opposite platform. He looked straight ahead, watching a harassed couple with a pushchair making their way to the lift.

  ‘Arctic Fox?’ he said quietly.

  ‘Da.’ There was a silence as someone passed the bench.

  ‘Thank you.’ Hal hugged his rucksack. ‘Thank you for saving my life.’

  ‘You turned on the red signal. I answered,’ she said, and he noticed her unusual accent. He thought it might be Russian. ‘You saved many lives.’ She laughed: a low, husky sound. ‘Not bad for a kid.’

  ‘Is Arnold safe?’

  ‘Da. He has nothing to worry about.’

  ‘You’re not the contact he worked with?’

  ‘Ha! Do I sound a hundred years old to you?’

  ‘How did you find Connie?’

  ‘You ask a lot of questions. I have been watching Schloss Kratzenstein since the red signal was activated by the Signalman. When the nurse left the house, she did not know the tyres of her vehicle had been slashed. She did not get far.’ A low chuckle. ‘She telephoned for a hire car. I bring her a car, saying I am from hire car company. She got in, I cuffed her to the wheel and returned her to the house.’

  Hal grinned. ‘And how did you find the goat?’

  ‘Goat? What goat?’

  Hal chuckled. The goat must have found his own way home.

  ‘I came to make sure you understand how important it is that you keep our secret,’ Arctic Fox said seriously.

  ‘I understand,’ said Hal.

  ‘You will be known by code name: the Sleeper.’

  ‘You can count on me.’ Hal felt a thrill at being given a code name. ‘What are you going to do now? Are you going back to Wernigerode?’

  There was no reply. Hal waited a moment, then risked a glance behind him. The bench was empty. All he saw was a crowd of shifting strangers crossing the concourse.

  ‘Here you are,’ said Uncle Nat, returning with a tub of vanilla ice cream noodles topped with red berry sauce. ‘And just in time too.’ The white-and-red Intercity Express purred into the station. ‘Ready for one more train journey with your boring old uncle?’ he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘Always,’ Hal replied with a grin. Getting to his feet, he grabbed the handle of his suitcase. ‘Let’s go home.’

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  M. G. Leonard

  I would like to thank my husband, Sam Sparling, for his constant love and support, but more specifically for his drawings. He often maps out buildings and train carriages before we write them, and for this story he researched German architecture and helped create the spooky Schloss Kratzenstein.

  Thank you, Sarah Hughes, our editor at Macmillan, for being a passionate reader and so understanding through the most trying of times in which to write such a complicated book to a ridiculously tight deadline. Thank you for your belief in this series, Sarah, and your patience as we try to plot our way around the world by rail. I would also like to thank
Nick de Somogyi, our proof editor, for his forensic eye and enthusiasm for our rail mysteries.

  This book is an incredible package and that is down to the wondrous Rachel Vale and Elisa Paganelli. I am so grateful to both these talented ladies. Elisa, each book you illustrate for us astonishes me; you capture the mood and the eye of Hal so perfectly. Thank you for your extraordinary hard work and generous spirit.

  I would like to thank all at Macmillan who have helped create and deliver this book into the hands of reader – one day I hope to meet you in person. Jo Hardacre, thanks for making promoting these stories an absolute pleasure.

  Kirsty McLachlan, my extraordinary agent, I’m grateful as ever to have you aboard. Long may our journey continue.

  Thank you, Sam Sedgman, for being a brilliant writing partner, and for taking me on my first sleeper train and all the way to the Brockenbahn. It was a fabulous adventure that I’ll never forget.

  And to every single book lover out there who has read and recommended our books, thank you.

  Sam Sedgman

  This book was written in very difficult circumstances. However, the darkest times were always illuminated by plenty of bright sparks, to whom I owe a great many thanks:

  Firstly, to Maya. I will always be grateful for your friendship and support through this challenging year. Thank you for your kind heart, your words of wisdom and for being my tireless travel companion through this particularly dark adventure. I’m grateful every day that I get to call you my friend. Now, for God’s sake, get some sleep.

  To my parents, who have provided me with all the love in the world and plenty more besides.

  To our new editor, Sarah Hughes, who boarded the footplate of this high-speed express in the middle of a snowstorm, but who has easily risen to the challenge. Despite an apparent global apocalypse, she has kept this book on timetable. Her fearsome might has no equal.

  To Elisa Paganelli, Sherlock Da Vinci herself, whose illustrations work miracles, and who deserves far more praise than we can ever give her. And to Rachel Vale, whose keen eye and masterful hand has made the artwork of this book into such a brilliant package.