Midnight Flit Page 10

They both tried to suppress their chuckles, but Lady Siward stirred and turned over. She blinked at them. "Clever," she said, her voice scratchy. "What could be more understandable than a loving husband giving his wife a footrub?"

  "That's what we thought," Briers said. "Just in case a steward popped in or our lovely Hollywood starlet."

  "Plus my feet hurt," Miles added. "We have no idea how you do this every day, Ma. All respect to you."

  "Well my heels aren't nearly as high as yours," Ma pointed out as she sat up and straightened her clothing. "You'll learn. Oh, what's going on? Is the train slowing?"

  Miles checked his watch and said, "I think we may be about to leave Serbia, Ma. We'll stop at the border and a shunting engine takes the rolling stock across into Hungary, then we'll couple up to a new engine. All very complicated."

  #

  "Yes, look," Ma said. "We're slowing down. Should we get out our papers?"

  With passports and tickets on show, Miles picked up his book again, copying Briers's sang froid. Ma, too, seemed very calm, but perhaps was more on edge that she appeared. She fumbled her first shuffle of the playing cards and began a clock patience layout, and was well into it when the train drew to a halt.

  Voices in the corridor, the opening and closing of doors, a whoop of laughter from the compartment next to theirs, were followed by a peremptory knock at their door. Briers got up to open it and a portly gentleman in uniform stepped inside. He gave Miles and his mother only the most cursory of glances, then rattled off the demand to see their paperwork. Briers produced the three passports, each with its carefully-distressed cover and collection of stamps and visas. Briers's was particularly thick. The man flipped through them, nodded and handed them back.

  "I hope you enjoyed your visit," he said in English. "Goodbye." He slammed the door.

  "Ah there's that ace," Ma said, and placed her trophy in the middle of the clock. "Well, that was short and sweet."

  "And we'll have to do it all over again on the other side of the border," Briers said. "Only in Hungarian. Might as well make ourselves comfortable."

  #

  Once the engines had been changed over Miles assumed they would pick up speed again, but the train chugged quietly through the countryside and soon stopped again at a smallish town.

  "Szeged," Briers said. "We'll be dropping off mail and picking up passengers, I shouldn't wonder." He paused and grinned at Miles and Ma. "More potential enemies for me to worry about."

  "You're not the only one," Ma said. "Miles and I do our part."

  "Yes, but the big bosses expect me to be the one to deal with everything, don't they? If you reach London with so much as a hangnail, it'll be my head on the chopping block."

  Miles snorted and leaned forward to reach for his mother's hand. "Don't be silly. Ma is far too well-manicured for hangnails."

  Leaning had put the bustle outside into his peripheral vision. On the platform porters pushed and pulled trolleys laden with bags and boxes, and a few passengers queued to embark. Miles's attention was drawn almost immediately by a familiar figure and a familiar scowling profile.

  "Don't look now, but I think we've got company," he warned. "Ma, I think Pa has sent Smethwick to look after us."

  "Smethwick? But he hates trains! Says they're a waste of time. It would have been more to the point if he'd sent Diana." Ma sighed. "At least then the necessary trips would be a little less embarrassing for all concerned."

  "Diana's there too," Miles said. "I'm going to have to admit to ripping her suit jacket, aren't I? Or do you think I could blame it on moths?"

  "I think you could try to blame it on moths," Ma said and patted his hand. Miles was overcome by a memory of her saying much the same when he was very small and expressing the intention of becoming a cross-Channel swimmer or the King of Bulgaria. Now he came to think of it, he couldn't remember an instance where she had suggested that he shouldn't try anything. Instead she'd offered unfailing support, useful suggestions and probably well-hidden relief when he decided of his own accord that a plan wasn't really feasible or needed more groundwork. In the first instance, swimming lessons. And in the second, even at the age of seven he had understood that Bulgaria was far too unstable for a bloodless coup and that assassination was very naughty indeed.

  "Perhaps honesty would be the best policy," Briers suggested. "Along with a promise to get proper repairs done."

  "At the very least," Miles nodded to the platform. "And I need to be quick about planning my grovel because they're on board now. It's strange how a man with no apparent facial expressions can get his mood across; Mr Smethwick is obviously as mad as a wet cat."

  "Poor John." Ma sighed. "He takes our welfare so seriously, but he really doesn't have much of a sense of humour."

  Outside on the platform there was the usual last-minute bustle then the train began to move. It wasn't many minutes more before they heard voices in the corridor, one loud and abrupt, the other a conciliatory murmur.

  "Yes, thank you. No, I don't believe they are expecting us. It will be a lovely surprise for them. No, we don't want tea."

  "Calm down, John." There was Diana, sounding equally annoyed. "And here's the compartment. Thank you steward; could we please not be disturbed now until we reach Budapest?"

  "You're going to get such a telling-off," Briers warned Ma, "but it just shows that they care."

  "I know," Ma beamed. "Places, everyone. Here we go."

  Trust Ma. The moment the door opened, she bounced to her feet and opened her arms. "Darling," she cried and embraced Diana. They air-kissed enthusiastically. "And John, too, What a lovely surprise. Please do come in and sit down. Have you met Brian and Millie Carstairs?"

  You could tell a lot about someone from their first reactions. Diana's jaw dropped as she gave them both a once over then her dark eyes lit up with delight. John Smethwick was a little slower on the uptake.

  "Madam." With an expression as dour as a hearse, he slammed the compartment door and offered his hand to Briers. "Carstairs. And Mrs... Oh dear God." His stoic demeanour cracked sufficiently for him to stare at Miles with an expression of dumbstruck horror.

  "Oh, come on, Smethwick," Briers said, resuming his seat. "Haven't you ever heard the term 'and any other duties the service may require'?"

  Which normally referred to things like political assassinations or honey traps but, clearly, it had never occurred to Smethwick that wearing ladies' clothes and looking good in them might be part of the job description.

  "What are you thinking?" Smethwick demanded, voice as cold as the look he levelled at Miles. "What if someone recognises you? The damage you could do to Sir Clive's reputation - "

  "More damage than the abduction of my mother? More damage than her death?" Miles demanded. "How else do you think we got out of that hotel? They were looking for a man and a woman. As two women we waltzed straight past them, into a cab to the station and onto the first train out of there. They didn't look twice."

  "Such fast thinking on your part, Diana, to let us have your case," Ma chipped in quickly, as Smethwick drew breath to reply. She drew Diana down to take the seat beside her. "Thank you so much, though I believe Miles - um - Millie has a confession to make?"

  "I do indeed," Miles reached out to offer Diana his hand and tried not to let his relief show when she took it without hesitation. "I owe you a new suit. The one you loaned me can be salvaged, I'm sure, because it only gave a little at one shoulder seam and there's not too much fraying. I'll get it put right when we get home. But all the same, I'd feel better if you'd allow me to fund a replacement."

  "That's very kind of you," Diana said, the light in her eyes suggesting she was controlling laughter with difficulty. "And may I say how much I like your frock?"

  "Why, thank you."

  From the corner of his eye Miles could see Smethwick eyeing him as though he was something mouldy found at the back of the pantry, and he could feel that Briers was tense - probably waiting for the first salvo. Briers sh
ifted and Smethwick's attention turned to him, both men squaring up to each other like fighting-cocks. Miles ignored them both.

  "We left notes," he said to Diana. "In a cipher my father would be able to read. I assume they were taken by the person who killed the unfortunate young man I left tied up in the bathtub?"

  "So we must assume," Diana replied. "Because John found nothing there but your portmanteau and the corpse. We really did fear the worst."

  "I'm sure. As soon as we are able to get to a secure telephone line I'll call the embassy; I'm sure Ma is as eager to speak to my father as I am."

  "Oh very much so," Ma said. "But in the meantime, we were about to get the cards out, and now we can make up a four for Bridge."

  "I feel someone should try to keep their wits about them," Smethwick snapped. "You play, Diana, while I check the perimeter."

  #

  Bridge was not Miles's favourite card game, but it served well as a pastime. Diana was a vicious player. She and Ma played with the same kind of ruthless efficiency as lionesses teaming up to bring down wildebeest. Briers, not a bridge player at all as far as Miles knew, was more of a Wild West gambler, all flair and reckless chances that paid off about half the time. Miles's more careful style, frankly, got him nowhere, but Ma was happy and that was really all that mattered.

  Smethwick, on the other hand, maintained his air of outrage all the way to the outskirts of Budapest. Even through the production of another tea-tray and a trip to the conveniences, where they all had to go together, because, Ma said, they'd established a precedent. Nobody mentioned Father Falcone, and he didn't put in an appearance.

  Briers's teeth were gritted when Miles emerged from the lavatory, and Miles was sure that he would be blowing off some steam as soon as they had a measure of privacy.

  "This is not good for your blood pressure," Miles murmured to him as they made their way back to the compartment.

  "No, but slightly better for my career than breaking his neck and tossing him out of the window."

  "Brian," Miles paused and took his hand then gave him that special look - corner of eye, through fluttering lashes - that he normally reserved for when they were alone. "If any tossing is going to be done, I insist that it's mutual and just between the two of us."

  Briers barked out a startled laugh and slung his arm around Miles waist. "Millie, you are awful. I think that's why I like you so much."

  That their laughter as they stumbled through the door together earned them another dirty look from Smethwick just put the cherry on top, and Miles snorted.

  "Save your glares," he advised, "for the people who deserve it. We'll be arriving soon and need to put on a united front. Keeping cavey at the Grand will be far more difficult that securing our part of this train."

  "You don't need to tell me that," Smethwick snapped. "I was a security officer when you were still in your pram."

  "Much though I value your unstinting care for myself and my husband," Ma said, her voice icy, "and admire your professionalism, I would prefer it if you would stop attempting to browbeat Millie."

  Smethwick took a deep breath. He was far too stone-faced to sneer, but it was there in his tone as he said, "But Madam, your son is a clerk. I am grateful that he got you this far comparatively unharmed, but we need some professionalism now - and preferably for him to get hold of some proper clothing!"

  Briers blew out a long breath. "Actually," he drawled, "when it comes to professionalism, Millie could show you a thing or two. A clerk! Don't make me laugh."

  "He doesn’t need to know, Brian," Miles said. At that Briers immediately shut his mouth with a snap, grinned and gave Miles a respectful nod made more impression on Smethwick than anything else.

  "So, not just a clerk," Diana smiled. "I thought not. People who spend all their time pushing a pen don't usually react with such aplomb when being shot at."

  "One does one's best in difficult circumstances," Miles said. "Oh look, here's Budapest. I suppose we'd best start packing our traps."

  "You've been reading Zane Grey again, haven't you?" Briers said.

  "Sure have pardner." Miles grinned and got up to lift his mother's case down from the rack.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Briers

  Briers wanted half an hour - no ten minutes, just ten lousy minutes - alone with John Smethwick so he could smash his self-righteous face in. How Miles was keeping his temper, Briers had no idea. As the train pulled into the station Smethwick had fallen into offended silence that he maintained through leaving the compartment and moving their baggage. He kept his expression bland and avoided looking at either Miles or Lady S all through the chaotic process of disembarking. If it had been because he was - as Briers, Diana and Miles were carefully doing - looking out for possible danger, Briers could have respected that, but instead he trailed along behind them sulking. Miles noticed too, caught Briers's eye and grinned.

  "Well someone got out of the wrong side of their crib this morning," he murmured as they produced their tickets for the porter.

  "Maybe it's all right to be professional as long as you're the right sort of professional?"

  "Stop it, you two," Lady S said. "Oh look!" She bounced on her toes waving to the portly gentleman in black and pinstripes and well-brushed bowler hat who was waiting by the platform gate with a porter and a trolley.

  "Oh, thank goodness," Miles breathed and both Siwards hurried forward to meet him.

  "And who the heck is that?" Diana muttered to Briers. "Do we need to worry about him?"

  "Not in the slightest," Briers said, he too waved then drew Diana's arm through his. "Used to be Sir Clive's valet then went to look after Miles when he set up his own household. Pritchard must have been before your time."

  "Pritchard! I've heard of him." Diana grinned. "It'll be a privilege to pick his brains."

  Briers was just glad to see a friendly face. Everything was easier when Pritchard was in charge. Briers had no illusions; he and Miles might make decisions about what to do and where to go but it was Pritchard who looked after the details and if he said jump Briers didn't bother to ask questions.

  "Good to see you too, sir," he said when Briers greeted him. They gripped hands, briefly but no less sincere for that, and exchanged their usual looks that Briers felt expressed their mutual gratitude that looking after Miles could now be a shared job and that each would have the other's back should the necessity arise. "I took the liberty of retaining one of the hotel's larger vehicles, sir, since I was warned that we would have extra passengers. Good day Miss Carey, Mr Smethwick. Madam, if you will take my arm?"

  With Lady S safe in Pritchard's care, Briers and Miles paired off leaving poor Diana to Smethwick - Briers felt she was probably used to him by now - and they processed towards the exit of the train station. They seemed to be doing rather better than some of the other passengers. Ruby, who was sitting on one of her steamer-trunks while Jonah bellowed at a porter, gave them a wistful wave.

  "Our car didn't turn up," she said, "and none of the cabs can take this amount of baggage."

  "Why don't you come with us?" Lady S suggested. "At least - Pritchard?"

  "There would be no difficulty Madam," Pritchard said. "I had doubts about the capacity of the hotel limousine, so I procured a small charabanc."

  And that was just as well, because Nik Utkin and Lacroix joined them on the doorstep of the station and Ruby begged transport for them too.

  "We should be selling tickets," Miles suggested with a grin. "Brian could have one of those caps and a ticket machine that pings, couldn't you, darling?"

  "Move further along the bus," Briers called. Ari laughed, and Nik tripped over his own suitcase.

  With so many hands it didn't take long to load the baggage. Briers and Lacroix slid the last two cases into place almost simultaneously and Lacroix sighed and said, "This is very kind of you, Carstairs. Thank you."

  "You're most welcome and I should be thanking you for what you did earlier. It was very reckless, but mo
st welcome."

  Lacroix winced, turning his head as though to block out the memory.

  "It was the only thing I could think of to do," he sounded embarrassed. "I should have - I don't know... disarmed him. But I was scared of hurting your lady. I'm afraid I'm not much of a fighter."

  "Pianist's hands? Millie would have been outraged if you'd harmed them. What you did was very brave. Have you arranged accommodation?" Briers asked.

  "Miss Aston says there's no difficulty. She took a suite with three bedrooms, so if she shares with Janice, Nik and I can share the other."

  It went without saying that Jonah would have a room of his own. Briers nodded and slapped Lacroix on the shoulder. "Come on, then. I'll buy you a beer or three later once we've settled in."

  #

  The Grand Hotel Royal was everything its name suggested - opulent, luxurious and not somewhere Briers would normally have even considered staying. True, the reputation of its restaurant and cellar was second to none - but it was sprawling, had too many exits, and the constant comings and goings would make it hard to keep his charges safe. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, however, especially when Pritchard materialised at his elbow and whispered, "I checked the suite, sir, before you arrived. The original offering was completely unsuitable - on a busy corridor, and there was a balcony - so I insisted that we be moved into this one. It is a little smaller, but I believe it can be made very secure."

  Briers approved. Their rooms were a good distance from the lifts at the far end of a corridor, but that meant any movement outside was directly related to their presence rather than room service passing by to drop off a sandwich next door.

  "Well spotted, Pritchard," he said. "Do you have a room elsewhere or—"

  "Part of the suite, sir. The door next to the bathroom. But I sleep as well in a chair as in a bed, and can prevent any unwanted incursion."

  Briers grinned. "By what means, Pritchard?"

  "All and any up to and including Smith and Wesson, sir. I also took the liberty for packing for you, sir, as well for Mr Siward, from the things you left in our spare bedroom. The grey suit and your evening wear. Shall I see to their disposal?"