Survival Instinct (The Adventures of Eric and Ursula Book 2)

by A. D. Winch

  Outside the toilet room, he heard someone breathing heavily above the noise of the train, and then two steps coming closer.

  “Help!” shouted Alexander. “Let me out!”

  The handle moved up and down then it was shaken back and forth. There was a small clang as something hit the floor, and the door opened. Standing in the doorway, soaking wet and with soggy toilet paper draped over his shoulder, was Eric. As he stepped forward the smell of an un-flushed toilet hit Alexander’s nose like a sledge-hammer. He stepped away from Eric and retched. Eric threw his skateboard at Alexander, who caught it.

  “Get out!” Eric ordered quietly.

  His voice was tinged with menace, and he sounded as if he was about to explode.

  “Get out, now! And bring me a change of clothes, towel and shampoo.”

  Alexander stepped out of the toilet, and Eric dived in, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he entered, he found the sink’s water pedal and started pumping ferociously while tearing his clothes from his body. Alexander walked back to the compartment to find the items Eric had asked for. He stopped and stared at the scene in front of him.

  The compartment door had been ripped from its hinges. It lay on the floor between the two bunks and above it was a large hole where the window had been. The ladder was buckled, and the beds were in shreds. Smeared across one of the pillows was blood. There was no sign of Andrea or Ursula. Their bags and other belongings looked untouched; he could even see Andrea’s tablet poking out from under a blanket.

  Alexander found Eric’s bag in the baggage space above the door. He took the items requested and returned to the toilet room.

  “I’ll leave them outside,” he said after his knock on the door met with no reply.

  He could hear the floor pedal still being pumped forcefully.

  As he turned to leave he saw two feet descending from the roof in the gangway. They belonged to a windswept Ursula. Her face was flushed, and her hair was blown all over the place. She dropped down onto the metal plates and was careful not to fall through the tear in the material.

  When she saw Alexander, she fell into his arms and began to sob.

  “What happened?” asked Alexander quietly, stroking her head.

  Between sobs, Ursula managed to say, “Eric’s gone. They threw him off the train. It’s all my fault. He’s gone!”

  Alexander was confused and pointed her head towards the toilet saying, “No he’s not. He’s in there.”

  “How?” asked Ursula. “I saw him thrown out of the window. He was still holding his skateboard when it happened. It all happened so quickly.”

  “I don’t know how,” answered Alexander. “I’ve been locked in the toilet all the while this was happening. Someone wanted me out of the way.”

  “They had American accents,” said Ursula.

  She moved away from Alexander and knocked on the toilet door, “Eric are you okay?”

  There was no answer.

  “Why does he want to be in there?” Ursula asked Alexander. “It stinks. What is that smell?”

  “Eric,” replied Alexander, leading her away. “Come on, let’s go back to the couchette and let Eric freshen up.”

  In the guard’s room, Agent Carme was looking at her silent and immobile prisoner. Her gun rested on her knees. She would be happy to shoot and kill this one, if only because Andrea was so boring.

  In her ear-piece she heard Agent Hoover say, “The man and Black Queen are returning to their compartment.”

  “Where’s Andrea?” asked Ursula as they sat on the bunks.

  “I thought you would know. You were altogether when I left to the toilet.”

  “But she woke me and said that the guard needed her in his room. She didn’t want to go and then, just after she left two men arrived.”

  Alexander chewed the skin around his nails.

  “It’s the OSS, no doubt. It is safe to assume that Andrea is in the guard’s room with at least one agent, possibly more.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing until Eric returns. We don’t need to rush as I don’t think that this train stops until we reach Amsterdam, where I am sure another surprise awaits us.”

  They waited in silence.

  “Unbelievable,” said Agent Hoover as Eric walked past the camera in the corridor. “White King is back from the dead.”

  Eric entered the compartment. He had obviously washed and scrubbed himself from head to toe as his skin was red raw. He had changed into a v-necked T-shirt and black jeans. Neither Ursula or Alexander could smell anything, but he still insisted on borrowing a deodorant and spraying his entire body with it.

  “You’re okay then. Thanks to me,” he huffed at Ursula.

  “Yes, thank you, but what happened to you?”

  “You saw what happened to me. I was thrown out of a high-speed, moving train with my skateboard.” He added as an after-thought, “Fortunately.”

  “But how are you here?”

  “I landed the middle of my skateboard onto one of the rails parallel to us. My feet were secure, but I then fell against a carriage and hung on for dear life to a broken grill. When another train came speeding towards me, I somehow got out of the way by swinging myself and my board under our train. I held onto cables and wires and pulled myself back towards our carriage while someone else decided to flush a toilet continually. Consequently spraying the effluent beneath a number of carriages and all over me,” he looked daggers at Alexander.

  “At least you’re fine now,” smiled Alexander hopefully.

  Eric ignored him.

  “Well, three of us are accounted for but we are missing Andrea, who we are sure is trapped in the guard’s room.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Eric walked back into the corridor with Alexander and Ursula following him.

  “They are coming towards you, Agent Carme. Be ready. I repeat the adult male, White King and Black Queen are heading towards you,” warned Agent Hoover.

  “But we need a plan,” said Alexander, holding Eric back.

  Just as Eric yanked himself away from Alexander, they heard a muffled gunshot. All three froze and then stepped back towards their couchette as the guard’s door opened. Andrea calmly stepped into the aisle and walked towards them.

  “Get your bags and let us move quickly. We need to get to a carriage as far away from this one as possible,” she said.

  The others did not argue with her.

  Back to Contents

  ***

  Chapter 20 – Night Walk

  The surveillance room was lit like a cinema. To the left and right of the screens dim bulbs hung from the walls but most light came from flickering images on the displays. There were areas in the room, far behind Agent Hoover, where no light reached. He had never dared to get out of this seat and investigate these.

  So much energy was used in running the displays that the room would have been in danger of overheating had it not been for the many fans hidden in the ceiling. A combination of these and a silent air-conditioning system, only succeeded in keeping the room temperature uncomfortably warm. In spite of this Agent Hoover was experiencing hot and cold flushes.

  He could not understand how the rendition of two children had failed so spectacularly, or how three highly trained agents could be beaten by a group of amateurs. Even though he had witnessed it all with his own eyes, he could not believe it. The last straw had been watching the elf woman walking calmly out of the guard’s room and down the train corridor as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Agent Hoover knew that this was not the case. He also knew that contacting the agents would be fruitless, but he decided to try anyway.

  Moving the microphone back in front of his mouth he asked, “Agent Carme, can you read me?”

  There was no response; only static.

  “Agent Carpo, come in.”

  Nothing, not even static.

  Feeling hopeless, he pleaded, “Agent Arche?”

  This time he
could just make out a noise, something very faint, but he wasn’t sure what. He turned up his earphones to maximum, and he could hear groaning.

  Agent Hoover knew he was in trouble and that his only option was to limit the damage to himself before he had to inform Agent Angel.

  His thoughts were interrupted by an extremely loud voice in his earphones. He rushed to turn the volume down before he was deafened.

  “Agent Hoover, can you read me?” asked a woman with a mildly Spanish accent.

  “Loud and clear,” answered Agent Hoover.

  He was relieved that he still had some agents he could turn to.

  “This is Agent Metis. Myself and Agents Thebe and Elara have arrived at Amsterdam Centraal Station. We are currently situated on the platform awaiting the arrival of the inter-city train from Prague. It is busy here, but we are in a good position and awaiting orders.”

  Agent Hoover’s fingers moved nimbly over the keyboard. After tapping a number of keys, images from the security cameras at Amsterdam Centraal Station appeared on all but one of the displays in front of him. It was not hard to spot the agents, if you knew what you were looking for. They were dressed in casual clothes and carried three big rucksacks which made them look like tourists.

  The remaining screen was locked on the moving train with the missing window. As Agent Hoover watched it, an idea gradually formed in his mind which, he hoped, would get him off the hook.

  “Stand down but stay in position,” Agent Hoover ordered. “Do not engage the targets when the train arrives. I repeat, stand down!”

  The agents had been looking forward to the mission. On the screens, they visibly slumped but they remained where they were. On another screen, Agent Hoover watched the Amsterdam train pull into Utrecht Centraal Station. Hoover switched the screens to show images from the cameras on the platforms and watched intently. His heart pounded as the train came to a stop.

  A number of people left the train but the children, and the two accompanying adults were not amongst them. After a number of commuters boarded, it slowly pulled away and Hoover started to breathe normally again. He switched the cameras back to Amsterdam and used his computer to find the phone number for the capital city’s police. They answered almost immediately.

  “Hallo, kan ik u helpen? asked a police officer.

  “Can you speak English?” replied Agent Hoover.

  “I am Dutch, of course, I can speak English,” he replied with a laugh.

  “I am on the inter-city train travelling from Prague and will shortly arrive in Amsterdam. A loud noise woke me up a while ago, and I saw a woman and man arguing with the guard. They put him into their compartment, and five minutes later they ran past me down the train. When I went to see what had happened the compartment’s door had been kicked in, the train window had been smashed to pieces and the guard was missing. I tried to find him. Honestly I did, but I just don’t know where he is. I didn’t want to ask the two people I saw him with last because they looked mighty dangerous. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do you know where the train is now?” the officer’s voice had lost its light tone and was suddenly very serious.

  “We’ve just left a station called Utrecht, but I watched from the window, and I didn’t see them get off. “

  “Can you describe them to me?”

  “Yes, Sir. The man has a trimmed goatee beard and is wearing reflective shades, red cap and red T-shirt. There is a small woman with him wearing leather trousers and a leather jacket.”

  “And what is your name?”

  “I’m sorry I can’t hear you, I’m going into a tunnel,” and Agent Hoover hung up.

  He pressed some more keys, and two passport-like images appeared on a screen in front of him.

  Agent Hoover admired the photos of Alexander and Andrea, taken on the train.

  “Got you!” he announced triumphantly.

  “Why are you involving the Dutch police?” asked Agent Metis in his earpiece. “What are your motives?”

  “I am sure that the Dutch police will soon be arriving at the station. Keep a low profile and keep out of their way. They will try to apprehend the two adults. This will leave you free to focus on White King and Black Queen as they will be separated from their protectors. Seize them with extreme caution. Approach them from behind. Use pressure on the carotid artery until they become unconscious and then carry them out of the station as if you were concerned parents. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Now to find out who you two are, thought Agent Hoover looking at Andrea and Alexander.

  The images were quickly copied onto his computer, and he entered the OSS passport tracking software.

  ‘Select continent,’ the program requested.

  From the drop down menu Agent Hoover selected ‘Europe.’

  ‘Select country or select all.’

  Agent Hoover chose ‘all’ and the software began its search from Albania through to the Vatican City.

  Thank sweet Jesus that passport information is now all stored on computers, thought Agent Hoover.

  He waited for the software to match Andrea’s profile with a passport image stored somewhere.

  After all the European countries had been exhausted, there was no match. He tried North and South America but without any success. The same was true of Asia, Australasia and Africa. The computer ploughed through country after country but by the time it had reached the end of Antarctica there was still no match. He was now panicking. No match meant nothing to placate Agent Angel with and that meant trouble.

  It was rare that the software did not find a match and, as he copied Alexander’s profile into the software, he hoped that this would not be repeated.

  Even though, Alexander was wearing his hat and shades the freeze frame image still had the same proportions as a passport photo. Using special icons on the software Agent Hoover reduced the opacity of Alexander’s glasses until his eyes could be seen and deleted parts of his cap until it was the same size as his head.

  The software began its comparison and Agent Hoover waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Europe gave him two possible matches; the rest of the world provided another four.

  These faces were transferred into sophisticated facial recognition software and compared to the image of Alexander. None of them provided a one hundred percent match. Three, however, were close enough to warrant further investigation and, more importantly, to tell Agent Angel about.

  Warily, but with more confidence than an hour earlier, Agent Hoover called Agent Angel.

  A violent coughing fit had woken Professor Schwarzkopf from a fretful sleep. Ingrid kept creeping into his dreams but whenever he approached her, she vanished, leaving a shimmering but lifeless copy in her wake.

  Professor Schwarzkopf opened his eyes but had no desire to get out of bed. Foolishly, and totally illogically, he hoped that he had woken up in a time before the present. A time when opening his eyes meant he would see his wife lying beside him rather than a dark, guest room with green emergency lighting on the floor. However, he was not a guest, and he questioned whether he had ever been one since arriving in the USA many, many years ago. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes again.

  Once closed all he could see was the photo of Ingrid, which Agent Angel had shown him. It was imprinted, probably forever, on his mind. He would have liked to believe that it was a fake. A clever forgery to get him to play ball but he was convinced it was genuine. Not because he wanted to be convinced or wanted to convince himself but because of Buddy Angel. Agent Angel’s smug manner, his self-congratulatory smile, his air of victory was all the convincing Professor Schwarzkopf needed.

  She had looked scared. Maybe she knew she was being watched. Maybe she had other things to worry about? Surely she had not wished to end up behind the Iron Curtain, he asked himself.

  Other questions filled his head: what had happened? What had he done? Why did she leave? Why did she leave? Why did she leave?

  In the ph
oto, she had looked tired. Her eyes still had a spark, but it was not as bright as he remembered. Something or someone had dimmed it. There was something in the picture, something about her that was different. It was like she had changed somehow. No matter how much he thought about it, he just couldn’t work out what it was.

  Professor Schwarzkopf reluctantly opened his eyes. The view of his quarters was not pleasant, but it was preferable to the pain he felt with them closed. He let out a long, deep sigh then coughed. With creaking limbs, he pushed himself up into a seated position. On the floor in front of him, neatly placed by the side of his bunk, were his tartan slippers. They matched his pyjamas, and the furry insides warmed his feet as he slid them on.

  Sleep eluded him and memories haunted him, so Professor Schwarzkopf stood up. He contemplated whether he should get dressed but decided he was old enough not to care about how others viewed his appearance. He was hardly going to find, or have to impress, the woman of this dreams. Consequently, he put on his matching tartan dressing gown, placed the security I.D. around his neck and left his quarters for a walk.

  At night, the temperature across the base was more bearable. There was more going on after the sun had set, and greater urgency. As soon as he stepped into the corridor he could hear more noise than during the day time. Machinery turning, vehicles moving and personnel talking all filtered through the blast door towards him. He slowly turned the wheel to open it and stepped through.

  The large hangar was alive with soldiers, pilots, engineers and technicians milling around between the aircraft. A stealth jet’s engines fired up, and the roar echoed around the cave walls. Those that had them rushed to put on their sound proof ear muffs. The jet carefully taxied out of the hangar and into the dark night. Professor Schwarzkopf slowly followed it at a safe distance. By the time he left the hangar, the jet was at the far end of the runway. He watched as its engines burned bright before shooting towards him down the runway. The instant it left the ground Professor Schwarzkopf lost it, even though the jet flew directly above him and over his head. A few seconds later he thought he saw it coming back into land but it was another aircraft.