Kidnap on the California Comet Read online

  Hal wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ Marianne slid her cabin door shut behind them. ‘Mom’s just as bad. She works for the UN – always flying around trying to save people. I don’t need saving, so she pretty much ignores me too.’ She sighed. ‘When they were married, we’d do family things – like holidays and outings, but since they split up . . .’ She sat down heavily on her bunk.

  The compartment would have seemed clinical if it weren’t for Marianne’s belongings. Her duvet was pink and dotted with dancing flamingos. On it rested a wooden drawing board with a neat pile of paper, a ruler lined up beside it, and a fine-point pen. Her shelves held comic books ordered by height. Beneath them, on a slim desk, a collection of pens and pencils were divided neatly by colour into glass jars: tomato red, grass green, midnight blue . . . A rainbow stretching all the way to fuchsia. ‘You have a jar for every colour?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Marianne shrugged, pulling the drawing board towards her. ‘I wanted to show you this.’

  The page she held up was divided into panels. In the top-left panel was the outline of a boy kneeling in front of a silver train carriage, drawing.

  ‘Is that me?’

  ‘I’m not as good at drawing as you,’ Marianne said, suddenly self-conscious. ‘But I like making stories with pictures and words, writing adventures.’

  ‘Am I going to be in your adventure?’

  ‘Guess you are.’ Marianne smiled. ‘Do you want some candy?’ From her pocket, she pulled a couple of sweets wrapped in purple foil and handed him one. Unwrapping hers, she popped it in her mouth. ‘Mmmm, blackcurrant liquorice – my favourite.’

  Hal hated liquorice. He read Cassis Réglisse Noire in tiny black swirling letters on the sweet. ‘I’ll have mine later.’ He said, putting it in his pocket and pulling out his sketchbook. ‘When I draw, I try to capture moments.’ He opened it to his picture of Union Station and pointed.

  Marianne squinted. ‘Is that me?’

  ‘A tiny you.’ Hal nodded. ‘I’m going to draw the inside of the Silver Scout when I get back to the roomette.’

  ‘You can do it now.’ Marianne indicated for him to sit on the end of her bed. ‘It’s ages till the next station. I’ll do my story too.’

  Hal sat cross-legged on the bunk beside her and leaned his sketchbook on his knees. He pulled out his pencil and began to draw the conference room with its hidden model railway. Looking over at the pots of pens, he spotted a silver one and reached out to grab it. But as the train rocked, his hand slipped, knocking into the jars and sending red, green and blue pens tumbling to the floor.

  ‘No!’ Marianne screeched, leaping to her feet. ‘You idiot!’

  ‘Sorry.’ Hal scrambled down, picking up the pens. ‘It was an accident. . . Ow!’

  Marianne had grabbed him by his hair and was pulling him up. ‘Don’t touch them!’ she snapped. ‘You’ll do it wrong.’

  ‘You’re hurting me.’ Hal put his hand to hers, and she let go of his hair. He gaped at her, shocked by her sudden outburst, and stepped back.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘We’re approaching Princeton,’ Uncle Nat called out.

  ‘Coming!’ Hal shoved the pens he’d collected off the floor at Marianne. She took them and, turning her back, began sorting them into piles on her bed.

  Uncle Nat and Zola were by the carriage door. Hal joined them as the train came to a stand-still, feeling shaken by Marianne’s outburst. The three of them stepped down on to a grassy trackside verge. Uncle Nat gave Zola his arm as she picked her way in her high heels to the short platform.

  ‘That is the most impressive railcar I’ve seen in my life,’ Uncle Nat said.

  ‘Even better than the Highland Falcon?’ Hal asked, rubbing the sore patch on the top of his head.

  ‘Pullmans are exquisite, but the Silver Scout is out of this world.’

  ‘What did August’s daughter talk to you about?’ Zola asked Hal with interest.

  ‘We talked about drawing.’ Hal frowned, thinking about the things Marianne had said about her dad.

  ‘Did she mention what August’s plans were for the press conference this evening?’

  ‘No.’ Hal couldn’t shake the image of Marianne glaring at him. ‘But when you two were in the viewing lounge, Mr Reza said something about a new train. A train of the future.’

  Zola and Uncle Nat stopped walking and stared at him.

  ‘That is interesting.’ Zola let go of Uncle Nat’s arm and stepped up beside Hal. ‘Look, the next carriage is mine, but wouldn’t it be fun if we dined together tonight, before the press conference?’ She smiled at him. ‘Wouldn’t that be fun?’

  ‘All three of us?’ Uncle Nat asked, sounding amused.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Zola smiled. ‘All three of us.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A SECRET MESSAGE

  ‘I’m confused. Is Zola your friend?’ Hal climbed into his seat in the roomette, sitting cross-legged. His head was sore, and he wondered whether he should tell Uncle Nat about Marianne’s outburst.

  ‘Zola and I are journalists,’ Uncle Nat replied. ‘We’ve known each other a long time, and we’ve covered some of the same stories over the years. She’s excellent at her job. Fiercely protective of her sources and always manages to be one step ahead of . . . well, everybody. The last time I saw her, she was angry with me. I’d done an exclusive interview with a businessman in the rail industry – and accidentally broke a story she’d been working on about a corporate takeover.’ His nose twitched and there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. ‘I don’t think she’s forgiven me.’ He paused. ‘Yes. Dinner is going to be interesting. Try to avoid telling her too much.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Anything she wants to know about.’ Uncle Nat replied. Hal nodded, looking out at the flat farmland zipping past the window. He remembered Zola saying Uncle Nat had brought Hal on the Comet to get close to August Reza and wondered if it was true. No, Hal thought. He and Uncle Nat were friends. They shared a love of trains. No other adult treated Hal with the respect his uncle did – not even his parents. He thought of his family and was suddenly aware of how far away they were. Mum and Dad, Ellie and Bailey – they’re on the other side of the world, he thought, feeling a ripple of nausea ruffling his insides. I miss them. I miss home.

  Francine’s warm sing-song voice came through a speaker in the corridor announcing the dining car was open for lunch.

  ‘You hungry yet?’ Uncle Nat asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hal replied. ‘I feel a bit mixed up.’

  ‘Food might be just what you need to sort you out. Come on – let’s see what’s on the menu.’

  The dining car was in the middle of the train. Using the corridor that snaked between carriages on the upper floor, they passed through two sleeping cars before reaching the end of the queue of people waiting to be seated for lunch. Hal looked into the bustling restaurant. It was like the American diners he’d seen in movies: blue vinyl booths, each with a silver-rimmed Formica table.

  ‘Please wait to be seated,’ said a waiter in a navy apron and blue tie. ‘We’re carrying hot food and drinks, and we don’t want you to be wearing that food.’ He gave them a broad smile and his bald head wrinkled. ‘My name is Earl. I’ll be seating you four to a table. If you come for lunch with a party of three or fewer, you’ll be seated with a brand-new friend. Why not use this opportunity to get to know someone on Amtrak?’

  Hal saw Vanessa Rodriguez, their sullen roomette neighbour, was at the front of the line.

  ‘Party of one, Miss?’ Earl asked.

  ‘Mm-huh.’ Vanessa nodded, then jerked her head and slapped her hand against the wall, making a loud bang.

  Earl jumped, and everyone in the queue stiffened.

  Vanessa sniffed, glancing down at the floor, before following him to a table.

  ‘Let’s hope we don’t get sat with her,’ Uncle Nat said under his breath. ‘Not sure she wants to get to know anyone on Amtrak.’

  ‘Party of two?’ the waiter asked the man and boy ahead of Hal and Nat. They nodded. ‘Party of two?’ he asked Uncle Nat, who also nodded. ‘Neat. Follow me, please.’

  As Hal passed the spot Vanessa had looked at, he noticed a dead fly lying on the floor, and realized she’d swatted it.

  Sitting down at the table, Hal saw that a workstation of hatches and drawers divided the room. Earl took three steaming plates of food out of a hatch and delivered them to another table. Hal could hear the sound of crashing pots and sizzling meat coming from downstairs.

  Looking at their lunch companions, Hal saw he was sitting opposite the boy in dental headgear that he’d sketched in Union Station. He tried not to stare, but the blue bands that covered the boy’s forehead and cupped his chin looked uncomfortable. Metal rods, attached to each side of the plastic stood proud of the boy’s cheeks. Tiny screws attached the face scaffolding to the braces on his top and bottom teeth. A broad black elastic strap crossed over the boy’s cropped hair, holding the contraption in place. Tucked into the sides, over his ears, were big red thick-lensed glasses.

  ‘Hello.’ Hal smiled warmly. ‘My name’s Harrison.’

  ‘Harro Harriron,’ the boy replied quietly, looking down at the table. ‘My name ee Ryron.’

  ‘Ryron?’ Hal leaned forward, trying to catch the boy’s eyes to make sure he’d heard him correctly. Americans had unusual names.

  The athletic man in the mismatching tracksuit sat beside him, laughed, and clapped an enormous hand on the unfortunate boy’s back, almost knocking the glasses off his face. ‘My son’s name is Ryan. He can’t speak great on account of all that metal strapped to his teeth.’ The man reached his hand over the table to shake Uncle Nat’s. ‘I’m Gene
. Gene Jackson. I coach gym. Wrestling’s my sport. You like sport?’

  ‘I do.’ Uncle Nat shook his hand, and Hal noticed him wince as Gene crushed it. ‘Nathaniel Bradshaw. My nephew Hal and I landed yesterday morning, but we managed to fit in a basketball game at the United Center in Chicago last night – Bulls versus the Pistons.’

  ‘Basketball? How about that!’ Gene Jackson leered at Hal. ‘Did you dig it?’

  Hal nodded. ‘It was fast and loud, and I don’t think I understood the rules completely, but . . .’

  ‘I thought, being as you’re British, you’d be into cricket and teapots.’ Gene stroked his chin and looked at Uncle Nat. ‘Who’s your team?’

  ‘I don’t really have a team. I find sport is an excellent way to get to know a place and understand how its people—’

  ‘I’m here for the LA Lakers,’ Gene interrupted, patting his chest. ‘I like winners.’

  Hal noticed a silver sports whistle hanging on a yellow ribbon around Gene’s neck. His own hand went instinctively to the precious train whistle hidden beneath his jumper. It was engraved with the name of the Highland Falcon. Lenny – his best friend – had posted it to him when he’d called to tell her he was going to America to travel on the California Comet. They shared the whistle. It was her turn to have it, but she’d insisted he take it for the journey.

  ‘Gentlemen –’ Earl handed them menus – ‘can I get you something to drink?’

  ‘I’ll have a Dr Pepper,’ Gene replied. ‘You want a Dr Pepper, Ryan?’ Ryan shook his head. ‘Yeah, make that two Dr Peppers.’

  ‘I’ll have still water, please,’ Uncle Nat said.

  ‘Me too.’ Hal looked at the menu, scanning soups, salads, pastas, and lingering over the list of burgers. He realized he was hungry. He wondered if Mason and Hadley would be coming to the diner for lunch. He didn’t like the idea of being Mason’s vocal dummy, but at least Mason wouldn’t pull his hair.

  Earl disappeared and arrived back a few moments later. ‘Here you go.’ He placed the drinks on the table. ‘You ready to order?’

  ‘Hal?’ Uncle Nat asked.

  ‘The Angus burger and fries looks good.’

  ‘Strong choice, young man,’ Earl said, writing his order down.

  ‘Same for Ryan,’ Gene said, ‘and I’ll have the baked chilaquiles, with a side of fries.’

  ‘I’d like the steamed mussels and garden salad,’ Uncle Nat said.

  ‘You’d better sit back while Ryan’s eating,’ Gene said. ‘It can get messy, if you know what I mean?’ He laughed loudly and Ryan’s neck flushed pink.

  Hal felt a flash of sympathy for Ryan. Marianne might be angry with her father for being obsessed with his work, but at least August Reza was nice.

  ‘Are you travelling to San Francisco?’ Uncle Nat asked Gene, changing the subject to move the focus from Ryan.

  ‘Yup – I’m taking my boy to a wrestling tournament.’ He ran his fingers through his greased-back hair. ‘Gonna show him how the champs do it.’

  Ryan looked downcast. Hal tried and failed to catch his eye. Uncle Nat and Gene fell into a conversation about the rules of wrestling, so he took his sketchbook out and opened it to a clean page. ‘I like to draw,’ he said quietly to Ryan. ‘Do you draw?’

  Ryan shook his head.

  Pulling out a pencil, Hal speedily drew his view down the dining car. Practice had made him confident and quick with his lines.

  ‘So, you’re tourists,’ Gene said.

  ‘I like to think we are travellers, but I’m also doing a bit of work while we’re here.’

  ‘What work?’

  ‘I’m a journalist. I’m attending a press conference in Omaha.’

  ‘Do you know August Reza?’

  Hal frowned, thinking that if a man like Gene Jackson had heard about the press conference, August Reza must be very famous.

  ‘Not especially,’ Uncle Nat replied. ‘We met for the first time this morning.’

  ‘We went in Mr Reza’s private carriage,’ Hal said to Ryan. ‘It’s really cool. It old on the outside, but inside it’s ultra-modern – like a spaceship.’

  Ryan leaned forward, watching as Hal sketched the man at the opposite table – napkin tucked in his shirt collar, a briefcase beside his leg.

  He gave Hal a timid smile and held his hand out for the pencil.

  ‘You want a go?’ Hal flipped over to a clean page and pushed the pad and pencil towards him.

  But Ryan turned the page back to Hal’s drawing. Hal watched, confused, as Ryan chose some of his lines to go over. He pushed the graphite tip hard into the paper, almost tearing it. It took every ounce of Hal’s self-control not to reach over and grab the pencil out of his hand. Ryan closed the sketchbook and handed the pencil back to him. Hal opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but Ryan held his finger up, mouthing, ‘Shhh.’ Ryan’s eyes flickered to his father, but Gene was loudly insulting the coach of the LA Lakers. Hal gave Ryan a tiny nod and pocketed the sketchbook.

  Ryan was staring hard at Hal through his red spectacles, as if he were trying to communicate telepathically. He lifted his right forefinger and pointed it to the ring finger on his left hand. He looked at Hal, to make sure Hal had seen. He crossed his forefingers, making a plus sign, and looked at Hal again. He glanced at his dad, then back to Hal, held up his finger and drew it across his neck.

  Hal frowned, baffled by the boy’s actions.

  ‘Ah, food,’ Uncle Nat said cutting off Gene’s rant as Earl approached the table with plates the size of tea trays.

  The beef burger made English burgers look like children’s portions. Hal needed both hands to lift it, and he couldn’t open his mouth wide enough to fit over both halves of the bun. It was delicious though. He looked guiltily at Ryan who was struggling with his food, and puzzled over what the strange boy had tried to tell him.

  Ring finger, fingers crossed, and throat cut.

  What did it mean?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE WILD CARD

  Gene gobbled up his lunch, threw down his napkin, and dragged Ryan away from the table before the boy had got halfway through his burger.

  ‘Not sure we’ve made a brand-new friend there,’ Uncle Nat said under his breath as Gene left the dining car with his visibly unhappy son.

  ‘Can we explore the train after we’ve finished lunch?’ Hal asked, stuffing a forkful of salty fries into his mouth. He wondered if he should tell his uncle about Ryan’s strange message.

  ‘Why don’t you set out on a solo mission? I need to do a bit of work before the press conference.’

  ‘You do?’

  Uncle Nat lowered his voice. ‘I saw something on August’s computer screen when we were in his bedroom and Zola accidentally moved his mouse. She saw it too. Something about a rocket.’

  Hal frowned. ‘A space rocket?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I need to revisit my notes about Reza’s interests, make sure I’m prepared for tonight’s news. It’s going to be big, I can tell. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘No.’ Hal tried to hide his disappointment by finishing his glass of water. He got to his feet. ‘I’m going to go and look for Mason and Hadley – give you time to work.’

  Following a sign to the ‘sightseer lounge’, Hal headed out the far end of the dining car, looking for a quiet place to examine Ryan’s drawing. He was puzzled by the boy. What had Ryan been trying to tell him? The connecting door hissed open, and he stepped into a dazzlingly bright carriage. Inside, the windows arched up into the roof, and welcoming blue chairs were angled outward to face the grand view.

  The train was coasting through a small town. Hal glimpsed backyards with swing sets and lawn furniture. The Comet’s famous five-chime horn blasted out a warning, and he heard the bell of a level crossing as they passed over a road. Red and white pickup trucks queued – a child waved from a back seat. Hal raised his hand and waved back.

  Someone behind him shoved past.

  ‘Sorry,’ Hal said, to the short passenger who was hurrying away. They were dressed oddly, wearing a long grey coat, a baseball cap and sunglasses, and a thick scarf wrapped around their neck.