Captives on the Orient Express
The snow covered alpine peaks glowed ruby
red, standing out vividly against the pink evening sky as they reflected the
last rays of the setting sun. Shadows had already engulfed the wide Swiss
valley, and twinkling Christmas lights from the nearest town reflected off the
layer of sparkling snow left from the last winter storm.
Adriano loved these mountains. It didn't matter whether they
were coated in snow, or basking in the intense summer sunshine. Being among
them constantly reminded him of the power and majesty of nature. He remembered
family holidays to the Italian alpine regions as a child. They were the
happiest of all his memories.
The carriage of the Orient Express shook as it passed
across a bump in the track, rattling the full coffee cups resting on his dining
table. He was surprised the train was still running. Snowdrifts over six feet
tall were piled up at the trackside, and it was going to be another harsh
night. Yet the train continued on its journey unhindered, powering its way
through the snowy scene en-route to Venice, his hometown.
"I hate snow," Bryony sniffed,
resting her head against the rattling window pane.
"You're British. Hating snow is what you do
best," Adriano grinned at her.
"You forgot queuing," Bryony
smiled, running her pale hand through her bright red hair as it tumbled onto
the shoulder straps of her black sequined dress.
"And complaining about queuing," the
healthily tanned Italian retorted, shooting her a charming smile through the
stubble covering his lower face.
The grey haired man with an immaculately trimmed beard
sitting beside Bryony finished his tea in one gulp, and then said in a soft
voice, "If there is one thing people in my home country can do, it's make
a good cup of tea. Other nations do a decent job but they can't quite get the
blend right."
They were the only people talking throughout the entire
restaurant car. All the other travellers remained completely quite, the only
thing piercing the silence was the piano music tinkling over speakers. It was a
disturbing silence, the kind heard in situations when people knew something
terrible was about to happen.
Adriano couldn't help but examine the other
guests, noticing how the majority of them were women. Behind their table sat
two Japanese girls, presumably students travelling Europe, dressed in tartan
skirts, pullovers, dark tights and colourful flat pumps. They huddled together
around their digital camera, pointing at the pictures taken on their trip.
Across from them sat an attractive middle aged African American lady. Her
straight jet black hair was held with a red headband, keeping it off the grey
trouser suit she wore with black high heels. She read a novel on her E-reader,
reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
In the far corner was someone Adriano knew
all too well. It was impossible to travel throughout Germany without seeing her
face on every billboard or television. She was Freida,
Germany's latest pop sensation. She'd sold millions of records throughout the
continent, and was tipped to win next year's Eurovision Song Contest. She was
quite stunning, even when she looked as bored as she did now. Flowing blonde
hair tumbled over her shoulders and reached the strappy red dress she wore,
with black tights and high heeled ankle strap sandals with gems on the buckles.
Sitting with her was an older woman with dark hair tied in a tight bun, dressed
in an immaculate skirt suit with high heeled boots reaching her stocking clad
knees. Judging how this woman didn't seem able to wrench herself from the phone
she was typing into frantically, Adriano surmised she was Freida's
agent.
Then directly across from his table sat a young
woman alone, resting her head against the window having not touched the juicy
rump steak they had been served for dinner. Her brown hair was styled into a
short bob haircut, and she dressed casually in a plain white blouse, tight
fitting jeans and flat pumps on her feet. She looked like she was a million
miles away, oblivious to Adriano as he continued staring at her intently.
The only other male guest was a man in his late
forties, small and rotund with a rapidly receding hairline. He was dressed in a
crumpled suit, with a cheap looking tie and a stripy shirt underneath his
jacket. He was pretending to read the paper spread on the table, but was
constantly looking up at the occupants of the carriage, particularly at the
brown haired girl, though she seemed to be doing her best to ignore him.
Under any other circumstances Adriano would have bought
a drink for any of the six pretty ladies filling the restaurant car, but these
were not normal circumstances. On the surface all the guests were simply
travellers passing through Europe in the lap of luxury, but underneath was a
tight web of intrigue linking all these people together. It was why everyone
was sitting in complete silence, trying to ignore the heinous crime that
everyone, bar one individual, knew was about to be committed.
The door to the carriage slid open and the head porter
walked through. Speaking in fluent English with a French accent he announced,
"Ladies and Gentlemen. We have re-arranged your cabins into your bedrooms,
and they are now ready for you to use. You may remain in here until the bar
closes at twelve o clock. Thank you for your patience, and good evening to you
all."
But no-one wanted to make use of the bar. The nervous
looking man stood up first and walking to the exit as casually as possible. The
women quickly followed him, one by one returning to their cabins in the
carriage next door. The brown haired woman was the last to leave, and as she
stood up she and Adriano made eye contact. Her brown eyes were tinged with red,
and filled with sorrow and regret. Adriano was all familiar with that look, not
too long ago his eyes had been just like hers.
"Better get ready you two, the game's afoot," the grey haired man remarked as he rose
to his feet. "I'll persuade the porter to leave us in peace while we work.
Then I'll pay a visit to the intended victim."
Bryony nodded, and was about to get up herself when she
noticed Adriano was staring aimlessly out the window. "You ok?" she
asked, placing her hand on his reassuringly.
Her touch brought Adriano back to reality. His thoughts
had drifted into a dark place he had spent most of his life trying to repress.
Images had flashed through his mind; walking up a darkened staircase, stepping
on a sticky pool of red liquid on the kitchen floor, opening the bedroom door
to see his younger sister cradling the motionless bodies of his parents and
older brother. But he managed to bring his thoughts back under control, and
smiling at Bryony he said, "I'm fine donna bella.
Come, we have work to do."
Adriano fixed the grey hood over his head, pulling it tight
so it covered the upper half of his face. Looking at himself in the mirror of
his cabin he readjusted the belt around his waist, to which a number of pouches
were attached. He wore a grey hooded top and dark trousers infused with special
padding to make them knife and bullet resistant. He wore soft trainers on his
feet and fingerless gloves on his hands.
Once satisfied his outfit was suitable he opened his
cabin door to see Bryony already waiting for him outside, dressed identically
with her red hair spilling out from underneath her hood. "I'll take cabin
seven if you take cabin six," she whispered as he silently slid his cabin
door shut. He nodded in confirmation, walking silently to his assigned door as
Bryony made for the room just beyond. They paused at the doorway, waiting for
the signal to begin. They got it when the grey haired man appeared at the end
of the corridor, and gave them a nod.
Bryony went first, knocking on the door of the cabin
and saying loudly, "Hello this is the engineering staff. It's an
emergency. Could you please open the door?"
There was the sound of confused voices talking in
Japanese from inside the room. Then the door was tentatively pulled aside,
revealing one of the Japanese students still fully dressed with a confused look
on her face. "Hello," she greeted nervously, "What kind of
emergency is itttttttttmmmm?"
Before she could finish her sentence Bryony dashed
forward, clamping her hand over the girl's mouth. She emitted muted squeals as
Bryony pushed her back inside the room, swiftly pulling the door closed behind
her.
It was now Adriano's turn, and knocking on the
door to cabin six he said loudly, "Entschuldigen
sie bitte, Fräulein Freida. Ist eine
dringlichkeit. Mag ich mit ihnen sprechen?"
He heard a frustrated cry of, "Scheiße," before the door was opened by the smartly
dressed agent. "Was genau diese
dringlichkeit ist?"
She asked curtly, looking distinctly unimpressed.
But her expression changed to one of fear when, with a
single swift movement, he pulled a knife from his belt and held it against her
neck. "Seien Sie ruhig. Rufen Sie nicht um hilfe!"
He instructed calmly, at which the agent nodded slowly.
"Excuse me. May I come in for a quick
word?"
"Who are you? Look I'm getting ready for
bed. Whatever it is can't it wait until morning?"
"If you go to bed now then you will
probably not wake up in the morning."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that there are people on
this train that seek to do you serious harm. Only with the protection provided
by me and my colleagues will you live through the night."
"Well...I guess you'd better come in
then."
"Much obliged."
"Keep still, don't make this harder on
yourself" Bryony told the wriggling girl she was kneeling on as she pulled
taught the zip tie she'd placed around the girls wrists, having already crossed
them over behind her back.
"Mmmmggg yyyyymmm kkkrrrrrnnnn!" the
Japanese student squealed through the wad of sponge stuffed in her mouth, held
in place with strips of black tape slapped over her lips. She bounced about on
the bed with all her strength, trying to buck off the hooded girl kneeling on
her back.
Bryony grabbed the girl's tight clad ankles, pushed them
together and pulled a ziptie around them. Before she
tightened it she felt a kick to her ribs, though not powerful enough to push
her off. Bryony shot a quick glance at the other student, lying at the side
already bound and gagged. She wriggled her tied legs as she lined up for
another kick. Bryony dodged her attack this time, the student flicking her legs
so vigorously that one of her bright gold flats shot off her foot.
Bryony applied one last ziptie
around the girl's knees, then got off and rolled her over against her friend.
The Japanese girls bunched together, their dark hair intertwining as they
rested their heads against each other. They gazed up at Bryony as she placed
the small roll of tape back into its pouch, then readjusting her belt.
"I'm sorry you girls had to go through this.
Stay here and wait for someone to release you, and you'll never see me
again," Bryony told the girls as she unlocked the cabin door.
"Mmmmmggg hhhhyyyynnnn rrrrrmmmm!" the
girls chorused in frustration, bashing their backs against the carriage wall
and crumpling the bed sheets as they threw their legs around. Bryony gave them
one last look before she sidled out into the corridor, closed the door and
locked it with the students own key, which she dropped on the carriage floor
where it would be found once this was all over.
In the neighbouring cabin Freida
stifled a sob as the hooded man zipped her hands behind her back. She gazed
helplessly as her agent writhed on the opposing bed, already bound hand and
foot and gagged with sponge and black tape. "Warum
tun sie dies?" the pop
star moaned as the intruder knelt at her feet.
"Du kennen den grund warum," Adriano told
her in a quiet yet authoritative voice. Freida gasped
in pain as he drew the plastic tightly around her ankles, just above her
expensive high heel sandals. Adriano took one last plastic tie and swiftly
pulled it around her upper legs, underneath the hem of her red dress. The cabin
was filled with a harsh zipping sound as Adriano pulled it tight, fixing her
legs tightly together.
He then opened a pocket in his pouch and withdrew a
small sponge ball, one designed to expand greatly when it came into contact
with moisture, such as the saliva in someone's mouth. Freida
whimpered when she saw it, having already witnessed her wriggling agent being
gagged with something similar.
But just before Adriano pushed it in, she suddenly
asked in broken English, "This is to do with Barston,
yes?"
Adriano nodded slowly and replied, "Yes." At
this single word Freida closed her eyes, a single
tear rolling down her cheek. But Adriano knew it wasn't from fear, but rather a
sense of failure. As much as he hated doing this to her, it was necessary to
ensure she wasn't burdened with a dreadful secret for the rest of her life.
To that end he stuffed her mouth with the sponge, the girl
moaning slightly as he pushed it in. Then he withdrew a small roll of black
electrical tape from another pouch, and pulling off a strip placed it over her
mouth. He added six more strips to ensure she could not spit out the sponge,
making sure he did not trap any strands of her beautiful blonde hair. He then
lifted up her legs and laid her to rest on the bed in as comfortable a position
as possible. Freida stared at him while he did this,
wondering what his intended purpose was.
"Guten abend, hübsche damen," Adriano told his two captives as they writhed
about on their beds. Grabbing their cabin keys he stepped outside, shooting
them a reassuring smile before he locked them inside.
"Have you ever read 'Murder on the Orient
Express'?"
"Isn't that the one where they all did it?"
"Well that's the simple way of putting it. There's
a reason it's Agatha Christies most famous work. The concept that a cast of
apparent strangers trapped on a train could actually have been working together
in a meticulous revenge plot, made it one of the most
surprising resolutions in crime literature history."
"What's this got to do with me?"
"Well sometimes works of fiction can inspire
people to carry out similar acts in real life. Here we are on the famous
locomotive, speeding through the snow covered valleys of Europe, on a night
where a similar act of revenge is being prepared."
"Act of revenge? Against
who?"
"You know full well who it's against."
"...This is about Angela Peach, isn't
it?"
"This had better be important," Gina Ward
huffed in her rich New Orleans accent. "I have an important
meeting in Venice and I need to get some...Is that really suitable attire for
an engineer?"
"Not really. It's more suitable for pulling
stunts like this," Bryony replied, before she darted through the open door
of cabin number five, clamping her hand over the pretty businesswoman's mouth.
She pushed Gina through the cabin, kicking the cabin door closed with her foot.
She pushed Gina onto the bed and jumped on top of her, keeping her hand firmly
pressed over the business woman's mouth. The African American snarled and
huffed through the hand gag, strands of her jet black hair sprawling across the
pillow, staring up at Bryony with eyes filled with anger.
Wrestling to keep Gina under control Bryony said,
"I'm not really interested in what business you have planned in Venice. I
am interested in what business you have planned for tonight." Bryony
smirked as she saw Gina's eyes widen. "Oh yes, I know exactly what you're
planning. And I can't allow that to happen."
Bryony then caught sight of Gina's free right
hand rooting through the open bag on her bedside table, before she withdrew a
small white capsule. Bryony realised what it was just in the nick of time, and
managed to shield her eyes the split second before Gina aimed a spray of mace
at her. The stinging spray failed to reach Bryony's eyes, but it gave Gina the
chance to push her off. She flung herself to her feet and made for the door,
but quick as a flash Bryony grabbed hold of her left hand. Using her years of
training she twisted Gina's arm into the small of her back, making her yelp in
pain. She then directed her captive back to the bed, pushed her face first
against it, and used her body weight to pin Gina down.
"Get the hell off me!" Gina snarled, her voice muffled as she spoke into the mattress.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Protecting you from yourself," Bryony
replied coldly, pulling a zip tie from her pouch, crossing Gina's hands behind
her back and then zipping them together. She then pulled Gina's legs onto the
bed, and used another zip tie on her ankles above the cuffs of her grey
trousers. A last zip tie around the knees left her captive fully secure.
As Bryony rolled her prisoner over she saw the
tiny gold cross attached to the business woman's necklace. She raised an
eyebrow as she withdrew her roll of tape, and said, "Think the good Lord
would approve of what you were going to do?"
"It's you who has to worry about achieving
salvation," Gina retorted defiantly.
Pulling a strand of tape with a loud rip, Bryony
replied, "Thanks for the concern, but salvation found me a long time
ago."
"I'm innocent. The trial found me not
guilty. I didn't do it!"
"We both know full well that you did do it.
You escaped punishment on a technicality, not because your innocence was
proved."
"But this isn't fair."
"Not fair? Angela Peach was a beautiful
young lady from a wealthy family. She dreamed of travelling the globe, teaching
English in distant countries, working for charities in Africa. She was only
back in London for her sister's birthday, when you spiked her drink at that
nightclub and took her back to your flat..."
"Stop this! Get out right now! You have no
right..."
"I have every right. I represent the ultimate
authority, and I'm not going anywhere!"
Adriano knocked on the door to cabin four and repeated
the words, "It's an emergency. Can I come in?" He got no response, at
which he pushed against the door and found it was unlocked. Pulling his blade from
his sheath he silently slid the door back, and stepped inside cautiously,
watching for any sign of movement inside the darkened cabin.
Out of nowhere and arm wrapped itself around his
head, and a knife was pressed against his neck. "Put the weapon
down!" ordered a female voice from over his shoulder.
"Ok, I'll drop it!" Adriano replied,
letting his blade slip through his fingers to the floor, where he kicked it
under the nearest bed. Holding his hands up he added, "There's no need for
you to do this Susan."
"How the hell do you know my name?" the
brown haired woman hissed, keeping the blade positioned over his vocal
chords. "You're working for him aren't you? You're trying to
protect him."
"I work only for the pursuit of justice,"
Adriano replied.
Susan gave an indignant scoff. "Don't
lecture me about justice. I trusted in it once, before it let me and my family
down. What right do you HEY!"
Having distracted Susan enough for her to lower the
knife slightly Adriano made his move, grabbing her wrist and pushing it away,
twisting underneath her arm in one swift movement. Susan was pulled forward
while he ended up behind her, pressing her hand into the small of her back.
With a swift twist on her wrist she exhaled in pain, dropping her own knife to
the floor.
"OW let me go. Let me go right now!" yelled
Susan, stamping her feet angrily as she tried to break free from Adriano's
grip.
"I can't allow that," Adriano told her,
pushing the violently struggling woman face first into her mattress. Grabbing
her other flailing wrist he pulled it against the other, then
swiftly fastened them together with a zip tie.
"No!" Susan exclaimed, gasping as the
tie bit into her skin. "I have to do this, I'll
never have another chance!"
Preparing two final ties to apply to her jean
clad legs, Adriano said, "This is not a burden you should have to
bear."
"Stop talking in riddles and let me
go!" Susan snarled, wriggling her pump clad feet as he fixed a tie around
them, before fastening one more above her knees. Satisfied she was secure, he got off her and withdrew a sponge ball and roll
of tape from his pouch. Susan watched this, and for the first time her fury
wavered. "Please, I'm begging you, let me do this. I've waited too long
for tonight. I owe it to my sister!"
Adriano paused, making eye contact with the young woman
lying at his mercy. He felt an overwhelming surge of sympathy. She had suffered
so much in her young life. Seeing her utterly consumed by anger reminded him of
the young man he had once been. But there was still hope for her; hope she
could live the normal life he never could.
Kneeling over her he pried open her mouth and
stuffed the sponge ball inside, while she grunted angrily at him. "Honour
your sister by living a life free from crime and anger," he instructed her
as he pulled a strip of black tape which he pressed over her mouth. "Don't
let her memory drive you into doing something you will regret."
"NNNNNNN. LLLLLTTT MMMM GGGGGMMMM YYYYYY BBBSSSTTTRRRD!" Susan
screamed in rage through her gag, even as Adriano attached the last strip of
tape over her lips.
With that Adriano got up and made for the exit. He
stood in the doorway for a moment, looking over his shoulder as Susan bucked
and twisted about on her bed, glaring at him with a look of pure fury. "I
am sorry Susan. Truly I am," he told her, before sliding her cabin door
closed and locking her inside.
Ignoring the muffled cries from behind the
door he walked down the corridor to where Bryony was waiting for him outside
cabin five. "How'd she take it?" she asked.
"Not well," Adriano replied solemnly.
"Don't worry. She'll understand why we did this
one day. Come on, we've got a train to stop."
"I thought I recognised her. She was
at the trial wasn't she? And now she's come to kill me?"
"With five other women
onboard this train. They've been watching you for months, waiting for
the perfect moment to strike. Your love of this marvellous train gave them the
perfect opportunity to recreate one of the most famous murders in fictional
literature."
"Are you going to let them?"
"No. It is not their responsibility to
atone for how justice failed them. But my organisation has brought justice to those
who have got away with terrible crimes for thousands of years."
SSSSCCCCRRRRCCCCHHHH
"What's happening? Why is the train
stopping?"
"Because this is your stop Peter
Barston. Come with me, it is time to atone for
your crime."
Two days later Susan walked up the tiny staircase
leading to the top floor of her hotel, having just had her witness statement
taken by officers of Interpol. She could hear the sound of musical instruments
drifting through the closed shutters, as the Venetians prepared for the arrival
of Christmas in just under one weeks time. The happy cheers and singing failed
to improve her spirits, as she reflected on the events of the past days.
It had all been for nothing. All that planning, all that organisation, only to have their goal snatched from
their grasp at the last moment. It left her feeling like there was a gaping
hole in her heart. For months revenge had been all she could think of. Now it
was all over she had no idea what to do with herself.
It hadn't been hard to find people
willing to exact revenge on Peter Barston. Gina, a
long time work colleague of her father, had been with her right from the start,
stoutly believing in the old mantra 'an eye for an eye.' But the other members
of her plan had come from the most unexpected places. Freida
had spent a year as Angela's housemate when they were both at university, and
they had become firm friends during that time. Convincing her agent to join
wasn't difficult, given how she had once lost a family member in similar
circumstances. Then she'd been contacted by two girls from Japan, who'd only
been fourteen when Angela had taught English at their school in Tokyo. Appalled
at what happened, they pledged to help her in any way they could.
The six women were utterly committed to their cause,
and were prepared to face the consequences of their actions. But they could
never have predicted that they would be attacked, bound and gagged in their
cabins by a pair of hooded strangers. They could do nothing as the Orient
Express was forced into an emergency stop, and could only listen as they heard
the whir of a helicopter landing next to the train. Minutes later the porter
had found them all and released them, but Barston and
the mysterious strangers had all disappeared.
Susan sighed as she reached into her pocket for
her room key. She could only presume a powerful friend of Barston
had come to his rescue, and the thought that he had once again escaped
unpunished drove her to despair. She twisted the key in the lock and opened the
door, and gasped in horror as she came face to face with the man dressed in the
grey hoodie, as he placed a letter at the foot of her
bed.
"Hey, wait," she shouted, but the man
was already away. He charged to her open window and without hesitation dived
out of it. Susan ran to the railing, and scanned the Venetian canal that passed
underneath her hotel window, as a man in a gondola shouted in energetic Italian
about what he had just witnessed. There was no sign of the hooded man, just the
ripples left from when he had hit the water. She waited for him to reappear,
but she never saw his head breach the surface.
Turning around she gazed at the letter
lying open on her bed. She trotted over and snatched it up. She read and reread
the handwritten note, and after she was finished felt tears trickling down her
cheeks.
It read:-
Dear Susan
Peach
I was once like you, so sure of right and wrong,
betrayed and thirsty for revenge. I lost people close to me in an act of Mafia
violence, and their killers were never brought to justice. I trod the path of
the vigilante, not caring who I hurt along my way. I almost lost myself in my
blind desire for revenge, but I was saved by an organisation that has balanced
the scales of justice for millennia.
Justice and revenge are not the same. Justice is
about maintaining the laws and fabric of society, whereas revenge is an act of
selfishness. The ordeal you and your family suffered was terrible, but it is
not your responsibility to seek revenge for the actions of Peter Barston. My organisation has taken him into custody and we
will try him by our laws. If found guilty he will disappear forever, and rest
assured he will atone for the appalling crime he committed.
I am truly sorry for what I did to you. We intercepted
messages sent between you and your associates as you made your plans. We could
not allow six innocent women to throw their lives away committing a blind act
of vengeance. As compensation my organisation has transferred twenty thousand
pounds into your bank account, to help you pick up the pieces of your shattered
life. But I implore you to return home to your friends and family, and live the
life your sister would have wanted you to live. It is too late for me, but it
is not too late for you.
Tell no-one of this, and may our paths never cross
again.
Adriano of The Guild.
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