His stomach rumbled. Labouring out of the chair, he headed for the grill. She must be out for supper. She would have to come back on her own. Perhaps steak and kidney pie and some 12 Star.
Finishing his meal, the fat man went to the concierge and asked if room 230’s occupant had picked up her key.
“No,” the lad tending the desk said, I haven’t seen her all evening… in fact I think she checked out”
Thinking a moment he said to the lad “Is there a train due to leave here soon?”
“There’s the 9:17 Grand Trunk to Montreal in about 20 minutes.”
The fat man rushed out the front door and along to the only taxi on the street. He jumped in and the taxi sped away in a cloud of dust. Arriving at the station, the fat man saw the train still standing. Paying the driver, he hurried to the wicket and asked if a young woman had just purchased a ticket. Informed that a lady in a checked coat had purchased two tickets to Montreal, the fat man threw some bills on the counter and said, “I’ll have the same”.
“Sorry sir, but the train is already boarded and ready to leave.”
The fat man scooped up the bills, ran out the door, across the platform and up the steps into the nearest passenger car. He’d buy his ticket on the way.
Chapter Three
A Sharp Response
Sharp sat looking out into the night. The lights of the lamps in the farm houses, played by the window. He saw the sign on the station at Ganonoque and then closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
A gasp from the girl caused them to open. Her face was bloodless and her mouth had dropped open. She was gazing over his shoulder and when Sharp turned to see what she was looking at, a short fat man careened down the aisle between the seats. As he reached their seats, he said “Miss, you had better come with me” She clutched her bag to her stomach and before she could say anything, Sharp realized that this was who she feared. The short fat man reached past Sharp and as he did so Sharp took the Mauser from it’s place and jammed it against the man’s side.
“You’d better sit down”, he said. He grabbed him by the coat tail, and pulled him into the aisle seat. “Now, what is going on here”, he growled.
The man burst from the seat , ran to the rear of the car, and out the door. Sharpe leapt after him. When Sharp caught up to him he was struggling with the door to the outside of the train,. As it swung open, the man grabbed for the hand hold on the outside. Sharp slammed the butt of the Mauser against the man’s fingers and watched as he screamed his way toward the embankment 20 feet below. The body bounced as it hit a telegraph pole. The train sped on. He swung the door closed.
He told her what had happened, and said “I don’t think they will bother you anymore”
She looked at him. “You really don’t know do you? He is probably supposed to report at regular intervals. When he doesn’t, they will start looking for him. When they don’t find him they will trace him and that will only lead them to us.”
She bit her lower lip.
Sharp reached over and placed his hand over hers. “It will be alright”, he said, “I promise.”
The train reached Montreal at 9:00 AM the next morning. The Grand Trunk station that used to welcome passengers to Montreal had burned and was now just an empty hole. Speculation was that a saboteur had fired it, but that had never been proved. Sharp was encouraged to see them starting to rebuild, even in the midst of a war.
They glided into the temporary wooden structure. Clouds of steam filled the barn and the mechanical sounds of the brakes, the bells and whistles wakened the sleeping girl. He walked her through the station. Montréal’s citizens had long been at work and the streets were fairly empty as they reached the restaurant. Eggs, bacon, home fries and coffee, soon brought their spirits back.
After a quick visit to the restrooms to clean up, both Sharp and the girl felt ready to tackle the next part of the journey. They walked back into the temporary station and looked for a place to sit and discuss what to do next.
Across the station, a returning Sgt Haggerty of the 21st Btn was waiting in line for train tickets to Kingston. As he saw a nice looking couple walking along the west side of the hall, he muttered to himself, “That feller is the spitting image of old Sharpey”. His place in line changed and he had to move up. When he looked again, they were gone.
“Strange” he thought, “I don’t think that’s the girl I met in Kingston. Bloody officers”
No comments:
Post a Comment