“Mon billet.”
The squat little man shrugged. “Sorry,” he said in French. “Too late. Barrier’s closed.”
The train began to move.
Jeff’s face darkened for a moment. Then he gave the man a beaming smile.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I think you misheard.”
Jeff’s fist connected with the man’s cheekbone with a satisfying crack. With a howl of pain, he dropped to the floor. Jeff vaulted the balcony and ran towards the train. It was gaining speed.
“Monsieur!” A guard yelled after him. “Arrête!”
But Jeff kept running, arms outstretched. He just managed to wrench open a door and jump inside before the train’s increasing speed would have made it impossible. Half panting, half laughing, he doubled over, resting his head on his knees while he got his breath back.
I’m too old for this lark. Especially at this time of night.
Once he’d recovered, he straightened his tie, smoothed back his hair and walked calmly down the train towards Tracy’s carriage. He was safe, for now at least. This was a high-speed train, not expected to stop until after they’d crossed the border into Germany. After a short break in Munich it would carry on south through Italy during the night, arriving in Rome by lunchtime tomorrow.
Plenty of time for Jeff to savor his triumph over Tracy—she was smart, but Jeff was smarter—and for him to convince her that, as she would never succeed in shaking him off, she may as well tell him the truth and let him help her. Capture Drexel and Kate.
For real this time.
Despite being an overnight train there appeared to be only one carriage of sleeping berths. Most of the cars contained ordinary seats, many with little RESERVED papers sticking up above the headrests. People sipped coffee, or slept, or read news on their iPads. What little conversation heard was muted, a low murmur of French and German and Italian all mingled into one.
Jeff felt his excitement build as he reached the front carriage. The little red dot on his tracker gave a single solid beep and stopped flashing.
She was still here.
He’d found her.
He would be gracious in victory. After all, he still needed to win Tracy over. It wouldn’t do to gloat.
He saw her leaning forwards, reaching into her purse for something. A phone.
Sliding into the seat beside her, Jeff waited for her to look up, then froze in horror.
“Are you all right?” A woman he had never seen before looked at him quizzically. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Jeff stared first at her, then at the phone in her hand. It was Tracy’s phone. The one he’d given her at the fondue restaurant less than twelve hours earlier.
“That phone. Where did you get it?” he asked numbly.
“I have no idea,” the woman frowned. “It’s not mine. I found it just now. Someone must have dropped it into my bag by mistake.”
Jeff’s heart began to pound. Just then his own phone buzzed with a text.
He wrenched it out of his pocket.
Only one person had this number.
Sorry darling, Tracy wrote. Enjoy Rome. T. x
Frantically, Jeff accosted a passing guard.
“I’m sorry,” he said in broken French. “There’s been a mistake. An emergency. I have to get off the train.”
The guard smiled. “I am sorry, Monsieur. The train will not stop until the border.”