‘Two standard black coffees. No extras.’
She sneered at me as though I was a barbarian as well as a troublemaker and grudgingly fiddled with the machinery until it reluctantly agreed to dispense two oversized coffees that looked potent enough to rejuvenate a museum full of mummies. She slammed the cardboard cups down on the counter, charged me a small fortune and dared me to say anything about it.
There was a saucer set out for tips. It was empty. I left it that way.
I picked a table at the far end of the café, so Penny and I could sit with our backs to the wall and keep an eye on everyone who came in. None of the other customers seemed to be paying us any attention. I checked all of them surreptitiously, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about them. I sipped my coffee cautiously. I must have had worse, but I’d be hard-pressed to say when. Some kinds of coffee should be declared crimes against humanity. I scowled at the other customers, wondering how they could put up with such bitter disappointments. Penny patted my arm comfortingly.
‘Doesn’t it wear you out, being so suspicious all the time?’
‘People can always surprise you,’ I said steadily. ‘Even these poor souls, with their tired faces and appalling drinks. Think about it, Penny: what better disguise could there be for a covert operative hiding in plain sight? No one here knows we work for the Organization, and we have no idea who they might be working for. In fact, for all we know, everyone in this place could be some kind of agent, from any number of different organizations, all of them keeping an eye on each other and not even knowing it.’
‘You are seriously creeping me out now,’ said Penny. She tried her coffee, put the cup down and pushed it firmly away from her. ‘All right, then … What if some of these people do turn out to be enemy agents? Are we going to have to fight our way out of here?’
‘You’ve been watching far too much television,’ I said. ‘Fighting is what you do when all your other plans don’t work out.’
I broke off as the Colonel strode into the café, back straight and head held high, as though he was slumming it just by being there. A tall distinguished personage in a smart City suit, with an unmistakable ex-military manner, the Colonel was a stern and assured man with cold eyes and a moustache trimmed to within an inch of its life. He didn’t even glance at the teenage girl behind the counter as he strode through the tables to join us. He pulled back a chair, inspected it critically and then sat down as though he was doing us a favour. If it bothered him to sit with his back to the door and all the other people, he hid it well. I jumped in before he could say anything. Experience has taught me that if you let the Colonel take the advantage in any conversation, he’ll walk right over you.
‘Hello, Colonel,’ I said. ‘You’re looking very yourself. I was hoping you might have got over that by now.’
‘You haven’t changed either, Mr Jones,’ said the Colonel. ‘Though I never cease to hope that some of Ms Belcourt’s better qualities will rub off on you.’
‘You’re late,’ I said.
‘It’s my meeting,’ said the Colonel.
Penny raised her eyes to the heavens. ‘Testosterone; I keep hoping they’ll come up with a cure.’
‘What’s the rush, Colonel?’ I said flatly. ‘Why insist on a meeting at this ungodly hour of the evening, while barely giving us enough time to get across London? What could be so important that you couldn’t even hint at it over the phone? And, above all, why did we have to meet here?’
‘Don’t you like it?’ said the Colonel, deliberately ignoring all my other questions.
‘What’s there to like?’ I said. ‘It’s just another overpriced, soulless tourist trap, that wouldn’t recognize good coffee if you put a gun to its head and said, “Look! This is good coffee!”’
‘All of which helps to ensure this particular establishment is never crowded,’ the Colonel said calmly. ‘So you can always be certain of getting a table, with no one sitting close enough to eavesdrop. This is also one of the few places in this entire station where you can hold a civilized conversation without having to shout yourself hoarse just to make yourself heard. Now, if you’ve quite finished complaining about things that don’t matter, we have an urgent case to discuss.’
Penny fixed the Colonel with her best icy stare. ‘Why do we always get landed with the last-minute emergencies?’
‘Because sometimes that’s the job,’ said the Colonel.
‘And because we have such a high success rate,’ I said. ‘No good deed goes unpunished. All right, Colonel, I’ll bite: why did we have to come to Paddington?’
‘You’re here because this is where you need to be,’ said the Colonel.
‘Very zen,’ I said.
The Colonel raised an eyebrow. ‘I wouldn’t know. I have tickets for the both of you on the twenty-two thirty train to Bath Spa, in Somerset. It’s a special express, which will not be stopping at any of the usual stations, because for this evening only it will be carrying a very important personage. Though, of course, the other passengers won’t know that.’
‘Why not?’ said Penny.
‘Because they don’t need to know,’ I said. ‘They’re just camouflage.’
‘Exactly,’ said the Colonel.
‘If we’re needed, that means there must be some danger,’ said Penny, frowning. ‘Shouldn’t they be warned?’
‘Sending this particular VIP on an ordinary train makes it look as if we’re not expecting any problems,’ said the Colonel.
‘But you are,’ said Penny.
‘Well, naturally,’ said the Colonel. ‘Or we wouldn’t need you. The point is, the enemy won’t have any reason to expect your level of protection. Which gives us the advantage.’
‘What enemy?’ I said.
The Colonel shrugged. ‘It’s not as if there’s a shortage. The two of you will travel in the same carriage as the VIP and make sure nothing happens to him along the way. He has his own personal bodyguard, but neither of them has been briefed about you. No one has. You two are to be our ace in the hole – the last line of defence.’
‘Unless there’s a leak in the Organization,’ I said.
‘Don’t even go there,’ said the Colonel.
I looked at him coolly. ‘I’m not sure I feel like taking this case. It’s not our usual line of work, and you broke protocol, Colonel. You don’t get to dictate where we’re going to meet.’
‘Time is of the essence,’ said the Colonel.
That was as close as he was going to come to offering an apology, and both of us knew it. I nodded slightly.
‘The Organization is not unreasonable in its demands,’ said the Colonel. ‘But when you’re needed, you take the call. That is the deal you made, in return for the Organization’s protection.’
‘But what’s so important about this case?’ said Penny.
‘Yes, and why choose us?’ I said. ‘Any competent field agent could handle something like this.’
‘The Organization wanted you,’ said the Colonel. ‘For its own reasons, which it has not chosen to share with me.’
I sat back in my chair and studied him thoughtfully. When the Organization starts holding back information on a case, that means there’s a lot more going on than I’m being told. And if experience has taught me anything, it’s that once my masters start taking a special interest in me, it’s time to sneak out the back door and sprint for the nearest horizon. Except that I was running out of underground groups to run to …
‘If everything goes according to plan, you should have a perfectly uneventful journey,’ said the Colonel. ‘Once the VIP arrives safely at his destination, he is no longer your problem and you are both free to return to London.’ He looked at me dispassionately. ‘Or are you saying you no longer wish to honour the deal you made with the Organization?’
‘No,’ I said steadily. ‘I’m not saying that. All right: who’s the VIP, and why is the Organization so concerned about his safety?’
The Colonel produced a passport
-sized photo and set it down carefully on the table. A head-and-shoulders shot of a thin-faced, middle-aged man with jet-black hair, cunning eyes and a pinched mouth.
‘This is Sir Dennis Gregson,’ said the Colonel.
‘Yes! We saw him here earlier,’ said Penny, leaning forward for a better look at the photo.
‘Giving every indication of being a real pain in the arse,’ I said flatly.
‘Sir Dennis is a Westminster perennial,’ the Colonel said evenly. ‘Been around for ages, without distinguishing himself in any useful way. Apart from demonstrating a real skill when it comes to making himself useful to better men, so he can cling on to their coat-tails.’
‘He was caught up in some kind of scandal, wasn’t he?’ said Penny.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ said the Colonel. He made the photo disappear and fixed us both with a steady stare. ‘What matters is that Sir Dennis has just been appointed the new Head of the British Psychic Weapons Division.’
‘Hold it right there and throw it in reverse,’ said Penny. ‘Psychics? That’s an actual thing?’
‘Yes, it is,’ I said. I gave the Colonel a hard look. ‘How did a political opportunist like Sir Dennis end up in such an important position?’
‘The Government moves in mysterious ways,’ said the Colonel. ‘All you have to do is make sure Sir Dennis arrives safely in Bath. Where he will be met by the Division’s security people and escorted to Ministry of Defence Headquarters to receive a full briefing on his new position.’
‘But why choose us?’ Penny said stubbornly. ‘We’re all about solving mysteries and investigating the weird stuff; we don’t do babysitting.’
A thought occurred to me, and I fixed the Colonel with an amused look.
‘Would I be right in assuming there’s a shortage of available field agents just at the moment?’
‘I really couldn’t comment,’ said the Colonel.
I looked at Penny. ‘That means yes.’
‘Everybody go back a step and take a deep breath,’ said Penny. ‘Because I’m still having trouble with the idea that this country has enough psychics working for it to make up a whole division.’
‘Officially, we don’t,’ said the Colonel. ‘But in practice every country has them. Fortunately, they tend to cancel each other out.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘It’s my turn to say hold it. Does the Division know we’re going to be on the train? Have they asked the Organization for support?’
‘Who knows what the Division knows?’ said the Colonel, not at all evasively. ‘No doubt they will have people watching over the train, from a distance, to protect it from psychic attacks.’
‘What’s to keep them from reading our minds?’ said Penny, darting a glance in my direction.
‘The moment they discover you work for the Organization, they’ll back right off,’ said the Colonel. ‘It’s all part of inter-agency politesse – playing nicely with each other. Now, the specific reason for your being on this train.’ He paused for a moment, to consider his words carefully. ‘The Organization has acquired intelligence that an attempt is to be made on Sir Dennis’s life, somewhere along the journey. To prevent him from taking up his new post as Head of the Division. Presumably an entirely physical attack, which the psychics wouldn’t be able to defend against.’
‘Do we get to know the source of this intelligence?’ I said.
‘No,’ said the Colonel.
‘Then how can I judge how reliable it is?’ I said. ‘Come on, Colonel – knowing who’s behind the attempt could be a big part of stopping the assassin.’
‘If it was relevant, I would have told you,’ said the Colonel. ‘All I’m authorized to reveal is that this is a reputable source, who has proved accurate in the past.’
‘Just how important is Sir Dennis now?’ said Penny. ‘I mean, are we expected to take a bullet for him?’
‘No one’s that important,’ I said.
‘Your orders are to keep Sir Dennis alive, by any means necessary,’ the Colonel said sternly.
Penny looked at me. ‘Is he about to use the word expendable?’
‘He wouldn’t dare,’ I said.
Penny looked sharply at the Colonel, as a new idea hit her.
‘Why hasn’t the Organization told the Division that we’re going to be on the train?’
‘Because if there is an attack on Sir Dennis, and we save him, then the Division will owe the Organization,’ I said. ‘Which is always useful in our line of business.’
‘Precisely,’ said the Colonel. ‘Favours are the currency of espionage.’
‘And if we’re not needed, then the Division won’t need to know about our source,’ I said.
‘Precisely, again,’ said the Colonel. ‘Our informant wasn’t able to tell us which group or faction is behind the threat. It might even come from inside the Division – from certain vested interests who don’t like the idea of someone like Sir Dennis taking over as their new Head. Your mission is simply to watch that man like a hawk until he gets off the train in Bath. Here are your tickets.’
He pushed an envelope across the table to me and then rose unhurriedly to his feet.
‘Your train departs in twenty minutes. Please don’t miss it.’
‘What about backup?’ I said. ‘In case we have to defend Sir Dennis from an organized attack?’
‘You’ll be on a moving train, whose driver has strict instructions not to stop for anything,’ said the Colonel. ‘In the unlikely event of your needing reinforcements … you’re on your own.’
I had to smile. ‘Aren’t we always?’
The Colonel just nodded, turned on his heel with military precision and strode out of the café. None of the other customers so much as raised their head to watch him leave. Penny looked at me accusingly.
‘You knew about this Psychic Weapons Division?’
‘I’ve heard of it,’ I said. ‘When you’ve worked for as many secret groups as I have, you can’t help but at least hear about most of the others. Not that you can trust everything you hear. There’s an awful lot of disinformation floating about, partly because no one knows anything for sure, but mostly just to keep everyone off balance. I’d never heard of the Organization until they came looking for me.’
‘What do you know about the Division?’ said Penny, refusing to be sidetracked. ‘Are they going to be annoyed about our crashing their party?’
‘All psychics are a bit flaky,’ I said. ‘Comes with the territory, I suppose. They don’t see the world the way the rest of us do, probably because they see so much more of it. As for our unasked-for assistance … If we are needed and save the day, you can be sure the Division will be very grateful. If we’re needed and we screw it up … well, probably best not to think about that.’
Penny frowned, in a way that suggested she was having serious trouble not thinking about it.
‘Have you ever met any of these psychics?’
‘Of course. All the secret groups use them. They’re our equivalent of the canary in a cage that gets taken down a mine to check for bad air. You send a psychic into an unknown situation and then judge how dangerous it is by how upset he gets.’
‘But what are psychics like?’ said Penny. ‘As people?’
‘Let me put it this way,’ I said. ‘You know how cats sometimes sit in front of an empty chair and stare at it wide-eyed until they really weird you out? That’s how psychics look at the world.’
Penny frowned. ‘Has one ever tried to read your mind?’
‘Just the once,’ I said. ‘We were working a case together, and simply being around me made him act really twitchy. Eventually, he couldn’t stand it any longer and tried for a quick peek inside my head. Just the attempt gave him such a fierce headache he had to go and lie down in a darkened room for several hours. I don’t know if word got around after that, but no one ever tried again.’
‘How can you be sure?’ said Penny.
‘Because I’d know.’
Penny accepte
d that, the way she always did when I said things in that particular tone of voice.
‘I’m not finding any of this terribly reassuring,’ she said. ‘Why have you never mentioned psychics before?’
‘The subject never came up,’ I said. ‘Psychic warfare is very hush-hush stuff. No one talks about it, unless they have to.’
‘How does psychic warfare work?’
‘You’ve heard about cyber-attacks?’ I said patiently. ‘How they’re going on in the background all the time, but the general public never gets to hear about it until something goes seriously wrong? Same kind of thing. Psychics from all nations, and any number of underground groups, are constantly trying to influence the minds of important people. Or drive them crazy. Or simply give them bad luck. But other psychics are always operating to stop them – from governments or groups protecting their own. It’s like … a whole bunch of radio stations all broadcasting at once. Nothing gets through because each individual voice gets drowned out in the babble.’
‘Is there any way you can tell when psychics are operating?’ said Penny. ‘I mean, if this is all taking place on some great mental battlefield …’
‘There are signs you can look for,’ I said. ‘Psychic fallout. Rains of frogs or mice. Statues that change position, shadows that come and go in empty rooms, fading pleas for help in the middle of phone calls. Look for odd coincidences – like names that rhyme, or two women with identical husbands. It’s all just momentary glitches, come and gone in an instant as the universe resets itself.’
‘Should we expect a psychic assassin to be travelling on the train with us?’ said Penny. ‘Is that why the Organization wants us there, as well as a standard bodyguard?’
‘Possible, but unlikely,’ I said. ‘The Division will have its very best people watching over the train. You’d need a really strong mind to get past them.’
‘But are there such assassins?’ Penny insisted. ‘With minds powerful enough to hide them from other psychics, as well as us?’
Night Train to Murder Page 2
