Spies in St. Petersburg

by Katherine Woodfine

  ‘It was tremendously exciting when our train arrived at Virballen. As we approached, I could see the fence that marked the Russian border, decorated with flags and the sign of the Imperial Eagle.

  The train stopped in the station, and we all had to get out and show our passports to a policeman. They checked our luggage too: two of Papa’s books and my little pack of patience cards were confiscated by Customs, but we did not mind too much. Afterwards they marked each of our trunks with a white cross and gave us our passports back. There was a while to wait, and so Papa and I ate a very curious meal at the little eating place in the station, before we got onto another train – and then we were over the border into Russia at last!’

  – From the diary of Alice Grayson

  London to Cologne

  ‘Sure you’ve got everything?’ asked Joe nervously, as they drew up outside the station.

  Lil nodded, glancing down at the small suitcase the Bureau had given her for the Hamburg assignment. The secret compartment was intended for hiding the report she was due to collect, but she’d already put it to good use, concealing everything she would need for her journey to St Petersburg – maps, a railway timetable, and plenty of Russian roubles. She’d put a fur-trimmed hat and gloves inside too – she knew St Petersburg could be cold at this time of year, but she didn’t want Carruthers asking awkward questions about why she was bringing such warm clothes for a few days in Hamburg.

  Planning the journey to St Petersburg without giving anything away to the Bureau had not been easy. But Billy and Mei had been ingenious, coming up with clever ways to arrange everything that Lil would need. The only thing missing was the special visa she would require to cross the border into Russia. That had been a puzzle: after all, Lil could scarcely just go to the Russian Consulate to get one, like an ordinary traveller. The Bureau had eyes and ears everywhere and would be certain to find out. In the end, they’d had to come up with a very different – and more dangerous – scheme.

  ‘Are you quite sure about this circus plan?’ Joe asked now.

  ‘Of course,’ said Lil at once. ‘We’ve been over it a dozen times. The Circus of Marvels is travelling from Europe to Russia. Their route has been set out in the papers, and we know they’re due to leave Cologne for St Petersburg tonight.’

  ‘And you think you’ll be able to sneak on to their train?’

  ‘Absolutely. It’s simply enormous – sixty carriages! All I have to do is travel as far as Cologne, slip aboard their train and hide somewhere – and I’ll be able to get across the border to Russia without needing a visa at all.’

  Lil’s eyes were sparking with excitement, but to Joe, the plan seemed full of risks. There were so many ways it could go wrong – and if it did Lil would be alone, without the Taylor & Rose team to help her. ‘Lil . . .’ he began.

  She gave him a very stern look. ‘It’s no good trying to talk me out of it. I’ve absolutely made up my mind,’ she declared.

  ‘But you don’t have to do this on your own. Couldn’t I come with you?’

  Lil smiled at him but shook her head. ‘You’re needed here. You and Billy have to take care of Taylor & Rose.’

  ‘But Billy could do that – with Mei and Tilly,’ Joe argued. ‘Come on, Lil. You know we make a good team. Anyway, I reckon it’d be interesting to go to Russia. That’s where my old granddad came from, which I s’pose makes me part Russian too,’ he added. It was a queer kind of thought. Joe had grown up on the streets of the East End and had hardly left London in all his life. The thought of travelling right across Europe made him as jumpy as a cat – though he’d do it in a heartbeat for Lil.

  ‘Funny to think of him travelling all that way,’ he went on. ‘He told me once that he walked most of it. There were lots of Russians round where I grew up: Russian Jews mostly. It wasn’t so good for them out there – that’s why they left. Some of ’em were cabinet makers like Granddad – or clock makers . . .’ he added, falling suddenly silent.

  It had been a long time – a very long time indeed – since he’d thought about the old clock maker. That night seemed to belong to another life. In those days, he’d been running with an East End gang, the Baron’s Boys. Jem had told him to finish off the clock maker – but he couldn’t do it. He’d known then that he could never be one of them. He’d had to run for it: he’d slept on the streets for a bit, looking for places to hide. Then he’d found Sinclair’s, and first Billy, then Sophie, then Lil.

  They’d changed a lot since then – all of them. He’d been on the run without a penny, and now look at him, with a real job and a decent place to live. Billy had been just a lad, a dreamer, his head stuffed full of stories, but now he was smart enough to arrange a secret mission to Russia. As for Lil, she’d gone from the jolly girl he’d first met to a young woman who was intrepid enough to travel to the other side of Europe to help her friend. Looking at her, he felt a sudden rush of pride.

  She was smiling back at him. ‘I’d love you to come – of course I would. But Carruthers would think it was strange, and he might get suspicious.’ She glanced up at the clock. ‘Oh gosh – look at the time. I’d better hurry.’

  The train was waiting on the platform but before Lil could climb aboard, Joe reached for her arm. ‘Before you go –’ he began.

  ‘Joe! I told you already – you can’t talk me out of this.’

  He grinned at her, his eyes creasing up at the corners. ‘I’m not going to try,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘I wouldn’t dare! I’ll admit I wasn’t too sure at first, but then I realised something.’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’ve never known anyone like you, Lil – and I know that you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t do mad things like this.’

  Lil stared up him. His hand was warm in hers and he was looking at her so admiringly that, all at once, she felt that she didn’t want to get on the train at all. What she wanted most of all was to stay here, with Joe holding her hand and looking at her like that.

  ‘All I was going to say was – be careful,’ he said, in a rather husky voice. ‘Because I . . . well, I mean, all of us – we care about what happens to you. We care a lot.’

  Impulsively, Lil reached out and hugged him. It wasn’t a quick squeeze, like the farewell hugs she’d given to Billy and Mei back at the office, but a real hug. She buried her face against the rough tweed of his jacket, breathing in the familiar scent of horses and hay. His arms tightened around her; she lifted her head, and for a brief moment their cheeks brushed together – and then dimly she heard the train conductor blow a whistle.

  A head emerged suddenly from the train window beside them. ‘What a lovely romantic scene,’ observed the dry voice of Carruthers. ‘Now, if you’ve quite finished dallying with your young man, I’ve heard it’s generally considered wise to get on the train before it leaves the station.’

  Joe released her at once. ‘I s’pose I’d better be going,’ Lil muttered.

  ‘Come back safely,’ said Joe.

  She clambered aboard, and Joe handed the suitcase up to her, and closed the door behind her. She pushed down the window to give him one last wave. He smiled and gave her a quick wave back – and she stayed where she was, watching him standing on the station platform, hands in his pockets, growing smaller and smaller, as the train chugged slowly away.

  The first part of the journey was uneventful – unless you counted Carruthers making various sarcastic remarks about ‘courting’ and ‘sweethearts’.

  ‘You do realise this is a very important mission,’ he informed her pompously. ‘You can’t just have your young man hanging about whenever it takes your fancy.’

  Lil ignored him, but she did feel rather pleased when they got on the boat for Ostend to find that the crossing would be a choppy one and a distinctly green Carruthers retreated to a cabin, refusing to admit to seasickness. It served him right, she thought.

  She stood by herself on deck, watching the swirl of the grey sea. She never felt seasick, and besides, she liked the wild feeling of
the wind, buffeting against her face and tangling in her hair. It was good to be by herself and have time to think over her plans once more – though somehow, her thoughts kept slipping back to Joe, on the station platform.

  Concentrate, she told herself. From Ostend they’d take a train to Cologne, arriving at nightfall. They’d have a little while to wait for the connecting train to Hamburg in the early hours of the morning: this would be her chance to slip away and board the circus train, which was scheduled to set off from Cologne at midnight. Once the circus train left Cologne, it would take about a day to reach St Petersburg, or perhaps a little more. The trickiest moment would be crossing the border at Virballen, going from Germany into Russia. The border guards were notoriously strict, but surely even they wouldn’t try to inspect every inch of a sixty-carriage train?

  If Carruthers hadn’t interrupted like that, might Joe have kissed her goodbye, she wondered suddenly. Had she wanted him to? Gazing down at the tossing waves, tipped with their frills of white foam, she admitted to herself that she had. When had that happened – and was it her that had changed, or was it partly Joe himself? He was certainly very different now from the awkward, uncertain fellow she’d first met – so much more sure of himself. And when he’d hugged her, she’d felt filled with a sort of warmth and lightness that she’d never experienced before. She’d known that he would always be there for her – no matter where she went or what wild plans she embarked on. If she was a boat on a stormy sea, he would be a lighthouse on a clifftop, she thought suddenly – always giving out a steadfast light.

  She shook herself. What was she thinking, dreaming about Joe in such a silly way? She was supposed to be making plans, not thinking about kissing boys. Sophie would think she was being quite ridiculous!

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a sharp click somewhere behind her. ‘Very nice,’ said a voice. ‘Good pose. Serious.’

  Lil spun round. A man holding a small camera was standing behind her. He had evidently just snapped a picture of her looking out to sea.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded indignantly. ‘You can’t just go round taking photographs of people without even asking them if it’s all right!’

  ‘Sorry,’ said the man cheerfully, not looking very sorry at all. ‘Bad habit of mine. Taking pictures is my job – and you made such a good shot then that I couldn’t resist.’ He held out a hand. ‘Charlie Walters, photographer. You know, I might be wrong, but I think I’ve taken your picture before. I’ve got a good memory for faces and yours is one that I wouldn’t forget.’ He studied her for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. ‘Got it. You’re Lilian Rose. I took some pictures of you once for a story about Sinclair’s. Good ones too. You came to my studio and we were going to do some more portraits, though I don’t think we ever did.’

  Lil remembered at once. It had been soon after Sinclair’s had first opened: they’d been on the trail of the Baron and the Clockwork Sparrow, and one of Charlie Walters’ snaps had ended up being a vital clue. Now, the photographer grinned at her. ‘Good to see you again, Miss Rose. What brings you here – where are you heading?’

  ‘Oh . . . er . . . to Germany,’ said Lil, a little awkwardly. She remembered that the photographer had been a pleasant fellow, but just now, she wished that he was a hundred miles away. She didn’t want any more complications on this assignment.

  ‘Germany, eh? Got friends out there? I’m headed to St Petersburg myself.’

  ‘St Petersburg?’ she repeated – surprised, and a little alarmed.

  ‘I’m on a job for The Daily Picture. They’re doing a whole series on the Circus of Marvels, and I’m going out to take some shots of the big show they’re putting on in St Petersburg for all the Russian bigwigs. You know – counts and princes, all that sort of thing. Apparently the Tsar and his family might even be attending.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ said Lil with polite interest – though inside her heart had sunk. The last thing she needed was someone hanging about who knew her from London and could blow her cover at any moment. She would have to give Charlie Walters a very wide berth indeed.

  ‘It’s not a bad gig. It’s grand to have the chance to travel – and Roberta Russell, the journalist writing the piece, will be over there too. You know her? She’s a fine girl and a good sport.’

  Lil shook her head, and tried to look as if she’d never heard of Miss Russell in her life – though really she remembered her name very well indeed. She was the young journalist who’d been on the airfield in Paris, and whose reports on the dramatic kidnap attempt had been splashed all over the front pages.

  ‘Well, looks like we’re coming into port,’ observed the photographer, staring out at the docks approaching. ‘Better be off. Need to make sure all my equipment gets unloaded safely. Grand to see you again, Miss Rose – have a jolly time in Germany. And when we’re both back in London, come and see me in my studio. I’d like to have a bash at those portraits, if you’re game. I’ll bet we could do some good ones!’

  He set off to attend to his luggage, just as Carruthers emerged on deck, looking pleased to see Ostend rapidly approaching.

  ‘Befriending more young men?’ he said, coming over to lean on the rail beside her. ‘Dear, dear – I hope you’re not going to break your sweet young friend’s heart . . .’

  ‘Oh, do shut up,’ said Lil.

  The train journey from Ostend to Cologne took up the rest of the day. When they arrived into Cologne station that evening, their connecting train to Hamburg was already waiting on the platform – although it would be several hours before it left the station.

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ said Carruthers, yawning and stretching. ‘If we get on now, we’ll have the chance to get a few extra hours shut-eye.’

  ‘You go ahead,’ said Lil. ‘I think I’ll go and see if the station buffet is still open.’

  ‘I’ve already looked. It’s closed,’ said Carruthers, heaving a deep sigh. ‘I knew we should have got some more things to eat at Ostend.’

  ‘You were the one who said you weren’t hungry!’ protested Lil, seeing no alternative but to follow Carruthers on to the train, and into an empty compartment. To her relief, he really did seem to want to sleep, settling himself back in a comfortable corner seat, and pulling his hat down over his eyes.

  Lil settled back too and waited. She heard the station clock strike eleven, and began to feel restless – but she forced herself to be patient, and to stay quite still listening to all the sounds of the station, until she was certain Carruthers was fast asleep. At last, hearing the sound of gentle snores, she cautiously rose, and went over to the carriage window.

  Peering out, she saw the circus train at once on the opposite platform. It would have been hard to miss – it was even more enormous than she’d imagined. It was getting ready to depart: a team of station porters were loading a succession of big crates and boxes on board; smoke was beginning to unfurl from the tall black chimneys; and lamps illuminated vivid red and gold paintwork, spelling out in ornate gilt lettering, the words Circus of Marvels.

  Casting another quick look at Carruthers to check he was still asleep, she quietly lifted her suitcase down from the luggage rack, padded softly across the compartment, and slid open the door. Looking all about her to make sure no passenger or train guard was nearby, she slipped out into the corridor, opened the carriage door, and a moment later she had jumped lightly down – not on to the brightly lit platform, but on to the shadowy tracks on the other side of the train.

  She crept forward, being careful not to trip on the rails. Little pools of light were cast down from the train windows above, and she picked her way around them. She knew she must go cautiously – and yet, she had no time to lose if she was going to climb aboard and find a safe place to hide before midnight.

  Close beside her, the train seemed bigger than ever, its enormous painted sides stretching above her. Carriages loomed over her, full of noises: the rumble of voices talking in a for
eign language, a dog barking, the whinny of a horse. From somewhere came an extraordinary trumpeting sound – could that be the elephant? she wondered. Someone was laughing, and there was the faint hum of music – an accordion perhaps, and a violin? She went on, going faster, once or twice almost losing her footing, bracing herself at every moment for a yell or a flash of light that would mean she had been seen, sneaking along the tracks in the dark.

  From what they’d learned about the circus train, Lil knew that towards the back there were a series of luggage vans in which the circus props and costumes were stored. She reached them only just in time – a porter on the platform called out ‘Fertig!’ and then the doors were slammed shut.

  For a minute she hung back in the sheltering shadows of the train, making sure that the porters had moved away. Then she slipped quickly up the steps at the back of one of the luggage cars. She put an ear to the door and listened carefully, but there was not a sound within.

  Cautiously – very cautiously – she tried the door handle. It wasn’t locked, and the door swung back to reveal a large dark carriage, empty but for dozens of carefully stacked crates, boxes and trunks.

  Lil darted inside at once, closing the door softly behind her, letting out a breath of relief. She was aboard the train: now, all she had to do was to find a safe corner amongst all these boxes, where she could hide herself out of sight for the rest of the journey.

  But before she could even begin to hunt for a place to hide, she heard a shrill creaking sound that made her turn ice-cold. Someone was opening the door to the carriage. Someone had followed her.

  There was nothing she could do, not even a second to hide herself. A dazzling light flashed into her eyes, blinding her for a moment – and then a furious voice said:

  ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’