The Final Enemy. An Inspector Faro Mystery No.12.

by Alanna Knight

  'Maybe she went to find out about the missing train - ' George began.

  'Listen!'

  A faint sound far off, growing steadily nearer.

  What was this? A new danger? That fear was clearly visible in the scared looks the two boys exchanged.

  Chapter 21

  Under their feet the track began to vibrate. Distant puffs of steam and there, a hundred yards down the line, a train was fast approaching.

  They waved. The driver saw them and blew on the whistle. Never had a sight been more welcome to Faro and the two boys than that of the engine of the State Railway of Luxoria as it braked to a halt.

  Of more modest proportions and considerably less impressive than the Orient Express, the Luxorian engine was painted in the national colours and bore the royal flag. With a tall stove-pipe chimney in highly polished brass as well as the usual pipes, tubes and valves, exterior cylinders and brass-rimmed wheel-splashers, its open cab had a tiny roof which housed the driver and fireman in a space so small as to seem totally inadequate against the elements.

  The head of the State Railways, in full ceremonial uniform, leapt down from the front carriage and bowed low to George. 'Welcome home, Your Highness.'

  Acknowledging the man's greeting, George whispered gleefully to Faro: 'We're safe, safe - ' sounding as if he couldn't quite believe it.

  Their luggage stowed aboard, Anton gave a sigh of relief.

  'At last,' he said, grinning at George, and stood aside with a bow to let Faro precede him into the carriage. Lacking the extravagant furnishings of the Orient Express it was nevertheless comfortable, a blissful haven after their recent ordeal.

  'Isn't it wonderful?' said George bouncing up and down on the plush chairs.

  The railway official, consulting an important-looking gold watch on a handsome gold chain, assured his royal passenger that they should reach the border in less than forty minutes. The watch snapped shut, the signal was given to the waiting guard and after some strains, jerkings and renewed steam they were off at a steady pace down the line.

  'Soon we'll be home. Just think,' said George, 'won't it be wonderful, Anton? All our familiar things again, there waiting for us.'

  Staring out of the window, the two boys lapsed into German as they talked excitedly of horses, and games and the archery field.

  Suddenly aware of Faro again, Anton smiled. 'Tell him, George, you are better than the English Robin Hood.'

  George shook his head. 'He is exaggerating.'

  'No, I am not. I've seen you.' And to Faro. 'Archery is our national sport.'

  'In the Middle Ages,' George said, 'Luxorian archers were famous and fought as mercenaries with many European armies. They went on the Crusades too.'

  'The President prefers guns and soldiers,' said Anton grimly.

  At this reminder of what might lie ahead, Faro wished he could share the boys' excitement and confidence in the future. It seemed absurd that he could not shake off the growing certainty that it was not all over, of danger still to come.

  He found himself staring out of the window anxiously scrutinising the horizons for any signs of movement. That twitch of unease remained that they had not yet seen the last of this bleak and threatening landscape.

  His two young travelling companions had no such misgivings. With all the resilience of youth they had recovered from their recent ordeals and begged to be allowed to ride on the engine.

  The guard was summoned to escort them and Faro was delighted to enjoy a little peace and quiet in the very comfortable carriage. Though not as elegant as the Orient Express, it had attractive features and a very distinctive style. The wooden panels were hand-painted with highly decorated scenes that he associated with travel in Europe. Swiss-style houses and mountain peaks covered in snow, with edelweiss predominant on their sunny slopes.

  He was delighted to lean back in an armchair unobtrusively anchored to the floor by the window, and a few moments later the carriage door opened to admit a splendidly uniformed waiter with a food-laden tray. Fresh coffee, warm croissants, ham and cheese. A selection of good things for any man's breakfast, especially one as hungry as Faro at that moment.

  The young gentlemen, he was told, had elected to have food brought to them on the engine. They did not wish to miss any of the journey.

  Faro was surprised to realise he understood every word. The waiter smiled. Then Faro remembered that English was the second language of Luxoria and that even minor officials would be well-versed in the language.

  He watched the passing landscape as he ate. Although there was still little colour, there was less snow than he had expected and a marked improvement had taken place in the terrain. Meadows, vast orchards, with deciduous forests on the hillsides' lower slopes, changing into conifers as the trees ascended. Vineyards and glimpses of twisting rivers and water mills. Here and there the turret of a castle frowned down from within a deep forest. There was an odd familiarity about the scenery. He had a sense of ‘deja vu’.

  Suddenly he knew why. This area reminded him of Royal Deeside. He laughed out loud. No wonder Prince Albert had chosen Balmoral and been so very much at home there. When His Royal Highness felt wistful, by narrowing his eyes and imagining those tall Scottish pine forests above the River Dee replaced with vineyards and a twisting river from his homeland, he could have been in Saxe-Coburg again.

  'We will be arriving at the border in a short while, sir. We should be inside Luxoria within the hour,' the waiter told him, coming to collect his tray and take any further orders.

  The head of the State Railway appeared, bowed and announced, 'We are still in Germany at present, sir. We were given special permission to cross over on this minor branch line, now closed except for freight trains, to collect our very important royal passenger.'

  To Faro’s enquiry regarding sending a telegraph to Heidelberg, he was assured that there were always such facilities available at the border post.

  So he relaxed in his comfortable chair for a while longer, viewing the passing scene as it flashed by, a constant source of interest. He must remember any particular details that Imogen would want to know about.

  It would be such a delight to be with her again, he thought, forcing her image to the front of his mind to obliterate the sadness of the inevitable parting from George. He was aware that there was not the remotest possibility of ever seeing his son again, of watching the boy become a man and eventually the ruler of Luxoria.

  He sighed. He must guard against over-indulgence in sentiment, remembering always with gratitude that he had shared a few precious days of the boy's existence and had been instrumental in returning him safely to his mother. As for himself, he would be the practical tourist once again, taking an ordinary service train back to Stuttgart. A telegraph to Imogen would have her meeting him in Heidelberg.

  He smiled at the thought of how surprised she would be and of the great adventure he had to relate to her. Was the time now ripe to tell her the truth about George?

  How would she react?

  The sound of the train rhythmically chug-chugging along was very hypnotic. He would rest his eyes just for a moment.

  Perhaps he slept. Suddenly he was aware that he was no longer alone. Confused, he opened his eyes, to find Dieter looking down at him.

  Chapter 22

  'Dieter!'

  The man smiled. 'Mr. Faro, I am sorry to disturb you. You were looking very peaceful. I am very glad indeed to see you safe and well. And the two boys - I am sorry I was not here to welcome you.'

  Faro stared at him. 'When did you board the train?'

  'Some time ago, Mr Faro. You must excuse me but, like yourselves, I was very tired by all my travels.' He sighed deeply. 'After giving orders that the boys and yourself were to be well looked-after, I said I did not wish to be disturbed until we were in sight of Luxoria.'

  With a thin-lipped smile he added, 'They took me at my word. I fell asleep and I am afraid you came aboard unobserved.'

  Faro listened t
o him, not believing a word of it. He remembered the boys shouting, the welcome. 'You must be a very heavy sleeper,' he said.

  'Oh I am, very,' Dieter said smoothly. 'I had little chance of rest after I left you. I had to make my way to the telegraph office and - it was very trying - I found it was closed until morning. I had to wait all night and then there were many complications that I will not bore you with.'

  'I take it that you were not attacked by brigands? We feared that you had been taken prisoner by them.'

  'Brigands!' Dieter gave a start of surprise. 'You saw brigands at the railway hut?'

  'We did indeed, and Anton was taken hostage.'

  'Anton!' His eyelids fluttered briefly and again Faro suspected that his surprise was feigned. 'I gather that since I am told both boys are enjoying the ride on the engine at this moment, Anton took no ill from his experience.'

  'He managed to escape. Apparently they did not make him prisoner and, in fact, he thought he recognised them as some of the President's guards.'

  Dieter shook his head, a somewhat unconvincing gesture. 'That is a very odd happening. Why should the President have Anton taken prisoner?'

  'Why indeed? His own son,' said Faro drily’

  That broke through Dieter's calm. 'Er, Anton told you that?'

  'George did.'

  Dieter shook his head and said gravely, 'It was to be kept a secret, Mr Faro, for obvious reasons. Anton is illegitimate but his father is fond of him and wished him to accompany his own son to Scotland. You realise it would have been very degrading both to the President and to Anton for his fellow-pupils to know his true background.' He shook his head and continued. 'Especially knowing how the other boys would react to such information. They would have made his life unbearable.'

  'Do you know what happened at the railway hut to George and myself and the porter?'

  'No.' Dieter frowned. ‘I presume, like myself, you made your way to the telegraph office.'

  'We were doing so when the hut was blown up.'

  Dieter blinked as if in disbelief. 'Blown up! How dreadful. Who would do such a thing?'

  'The same soldiers who took Anton.'

  'But why, Mr Faro? Why should they do that if it was Anton they wanted?'

  'The explosion was planned deliberately. But first they were to make sure that Anton, their main concern, was safe.' With a pause to let that sink in, he went on: 'You are an intelligent man, Dieter, you know something, I am sure, of the devious workings of Luxorian politics. Surely it is obvious to you that, whoever was in charge of this hostage-taking and destruction of the railway hut, George was the real target.'

  ‘I cannot imagine such a thing, Mr Faro,' Dieter said coldly. 'And your reasoning is beyond me.'

  'Then might I ask you to consider some more of my reasoning, as you call it. May we talk about Glenatholl for a moment?'

  'Glenatholl?' Dieter frowned as if he had some difficulty in remembering the place. 'I do not follow you.'

  'First of all, I would like to discuss the accident to George's bodyguard Tomas.'

  Dieter shrugged impatiently. ‘I have already told you that it was an unfortunate accident. He fell out of the window. I thought you knew that, Mr Faro. You were on the premises when it happened.'

  Faro smiled grimly. 'You did not know then that Tomas came to see me just before I gave my lecture. He had some urgent secret information, concerning George.'

  Dieter looked uneasy. 'And that was?' he demanded sharply.

  'We will leave that for the moment,' Faro said smoothly. ‘I should like you to tell me instead about Helga and why she pretended to be leaving us in Paris when I saw her on the train at Strasbourg.'

  'Mr Faro,' said Dieter wearily. 'She did leave us at Paris.'

  'What about that ball of knitting wool?'

  Dieter held up a hand in protest. 'We have gone into all that, Mr Faro. I can only insist once again that you were mistaken. As I told you at the time, it could not have been Helga. She was ill and wished to stay with her grandmother.'

  'Very well. Tell me, how well did you know Helga?'

  Dieter spread his hands wide. 'Hardly at all. I hardly remember her from Glenatholl. She was a servant and I had little to do with the domestic staff. I had exceptional duties looking after Anton and George. I was not interested in Helga, if that is what you are asserting, Mr Faro, I simply accepted what she told me.'

  'To return to Anton. He has confessed all about George's kidnapping.'

  'Has he indeed?' Again that flicker of uncertainty in the man's expression. 'I presume he has told you that it was really his idea, a practical joke to play on George.'

  'A curious practical joke. Like the one on the ferry. To pretend someone tried to throw him overboard.'

  Dieter made no denial, just a weary shrug of indifference. 'The kidnapping was a wager from the boys in his class. Anton insisted that I must help him if it was to succeed.'

  'That was not quite Anton's version,' Faro interrupted. Dieter looked startled. 'But do go on.'

  'We were to leave George in the old stable overnight.'

  'With no regard to the dangers to his health, lying bound on a cold floor for hours,' Faro, said indignantly.

  Dieter laughed grimly. 'He is a very strong child. Well used to the rigours of sleeping out all night. One of Glenatholl's more Spartan exercises is camping in the hills, survival in the open air with only one blanket, What I did not know when I agreed to what seemed a harmless schoolboy's prank was that Captain Reece and the royal train would be arriving that day to take George to Balmoral.'

  'Did Anton know?'

  'I am sure he did. George tells him everything.' Another weary sigh. 'Mr Faro, you are always searching for reasons. I put it to you that Anton had a very good one for pretending that George was kidnapped.'

  'And that was?'

  'Jealousy, Mr Faro, just plain jealousy. Surely that must have occurred to you, seeing them together. Anton was jealous of George being invited to a shooting-party at the home of your Queen. Left out because he is his father's natural son, unacknowledged whereas his half-brother is the rightful heir to Luxoria. Anton's mother was a German actress while George's mother is the Grand Duchess Amelie, a relative of the late Prince Consort and god-daughter of the Queen of England.'

  He paused. 'Surely you can see Anton's motives in all of this? And I would say, although I have no experience of children, it seems perfectly normal that now and again Anton wants to prove he is as good as George in every way. You have already mentioned another example of his passion for practical jokes, you saw it on the ferry going to Calais.'

  'Were you involved in that too?' Faro asked.

  'No. That was one he thought out all by himself. But he confessed later that it had just been to scare George.'

  'Not quite the story he has told us, that it was your idea, to test my powers as a detective,' Faro said.

  Again no denial came from Dieter, who was watching him carefully. 'Perhaps it is difficult for a foreigner - and a policeman from another country - to understand how things work where kingdoms are at stake.'

  Pausing a moment, he said slowly, 'I do not think you have fully realised, Mr Faro, that Anton has a lot to gain, worth fighting for and telling a few lies for, if George should meet with a fatal accident. Bearing this in mind I would advise you not to trust him or listen to all he says. He pretends to be a good friend to George, but - ' he shrugged, 'Anton is a very good actor, he can be very convincing, even shedding tears.'

  And Faro remembered that extraordinary emotional scene on the railway track and earlier his tearful Prince Arthur in the scenes from Shakespeare entertainment at Glenatholl.

  Who was he to believe? The answer was taken from him by a sudden interruption as the door was flung open as the boys rushed in. They were as taken aback as Faro had been to see Dieter there quite unharmed. As he told them what had happened, the train began to slow down.

  George ran to the window. 'Luxoria! Hurray, Anton, we are home!'


  The train had stopped. The guard came in and, before he said a word, Faro knew something was wrong.

  Chapter 23

  'Why have we stopped?' Dieter demanded of the guard.

  'There is a change of plan, sir.'

  Brushing the guard aside, the head of the State Railway appeared. Bowing, he said, 'We regret the delay, but we have received an urgent message that the train is not to proceed until further notice.'

  'What do you mean, not proceed?' demanded Dieter.

  Another bow. 'The royal train is to remain here.'

  'Remain? For what purpose?'

  Not only Dieter looked angry, the two boys were very upset indeed. As for Faro, he felt only despair that his intuition had been right. It had all been too easy and his happy sigh of relief that his mission to Luxoria was over had been somewhat premature. The whiff of danger in the air was not only due to the steam rising from the stationary royal train.

  ‘I am sure we will not have long to wait, sir,' said the official.

  Faro looked out of the window. A small cloud of dust on the horizon revealed itself as a band of horsemen rapidly heading in the direction of the train.

  At his side, Anton and George exchanged alarmed glances which Faro shared. Had the so-called brigands caught up with Anton for escaping and stealing one of their horses? Or was George their target? This time there would be no mistake.

  Dieter looked over their shoulders and turned quickly to the railway official.

  'I insist that the train proceeds through the border. At once. That is the President's command.'

  The man shook his head. With considerable dignity he replied 'I regret to say, sir, that, as you are probably aware, our President's commands are not applicable while our locomotive is resting on German soil.' Drawing himself up, he saluted and added, 'These orders are direct from the Imperial Headquarters and it would create an international incident should I have the temerity to ignore them.’