The Arctic Railway Assassin Read online

  They must be a musical group travelling together, Hal thought as he drew, and wondered if they were waiting for the same train as him. The animated man with the wild grey hair was looking stressed as he talked excitedly to a wide-eyed elfin woman, and Hal guessed he was the band leader. Another man carrying a violin case came and stood beside him, and Hal added him to the picture.

  ‘Ritar du oss?’ said a woman’s voice and Hal jumped.

  He found himself looking up into the merry eyes of a woman with effortlessly punky thick black hair. She wore a leather jacket with the collar turned up and her lips were painted a purple that clashed with her brown skin.

  ‘Er, sorry, I’m English,’ Hal volunteered, blushing.

  ‘I asked, are you drawing us?’ The woman pointed to his picture.

  ‘Oh. Yes. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She sat down beside him on the bench. ‘You are very good. And quick!’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You have captured a perfect likeness of Gustav and Astrid.’ She pointed at the bass and cello player. ‘And here I see Klara, Julia and Siv.’

  ‘What’s the instrument in that case?’ He pointed at the lumpen form in front of Siv.

  ‘The French horn.’

  ‘Do you play an instrument?’

  ‘Yes.’ She pulled two brass sticks from the inside pocket of her jacket and pushed the handles so that they became brushes. She beat them on his sketchbook. ‘My name is Birgitta and I play percussion and piano.’

  ‘Is the Dynamic Dozen a band?’

  ‘We are the smallest symphony orchestra in the world,’ Birgitta replied. ‘Gustav plays bass, Astrid cello, Klara oboe, Julia violin, Siv French horn.’ Hal hurriedly scribbled down their names and instruments beside their portraits. Birgitta pointed to the bench behind them where four men were sitting.

  ‘Oscar clarinet, Stefan viola, Per bassoon, Anders flute.’ She turned towards the animated man with the wild grey mop and the elfin woman.

  ‘Helena harp, and Magnus is our conductor . . .’ She was going to say more, but Siv called out to her in Swedish and they exchanged words Hal couldn’t understand.

  Hal’s sketch of the Dynamic Dozen.

  In front, Birgitta stands on the left of a bench. On the bench, Gustav and Astrid are seated close to each other, and Klara, Julia, and Siv are chatting while seated. Behind them, Oscar and Stefan are having a conversation, and Per and Andres are looking at each other. On the right, in front of Andres, Magnus speaks to Helen. On the right, near Magnus, a man in a suit carries an instrument.

  ‘Are you travelling on the Narvik train?’ Hal asked when she turned her attention back to him.

  Birgitta nodded. ‘We are going to Kiruna. On Sunday we play at the St Lucia Day Festival of Lights.’

  ‘Oh! I’ll be there then too. What’s St Lucia Day?’

  ‘The winter solstice. You must come. There’s a parade, gingerbread, and lots of music. It marks the beginning of the Christmas season.’

  ‘Oh, I’d like that. It sounds fun!’

  ‘It is.’ She smiled.

  Uncle Nat returned carrying two cups, and Hal introduced him to Birgitta, who stood to let him sit down. They fell to talking about classical music, so Hal continued to work on his picture, slurping happily at his hot chocolate as he drew the Dynamic Dozen.

  An announcement came over the tannoy in Swedish.

  ‘Our train has arrived,’ Birgitta told them. ‘But it needs to be cleaned, we cannot board yet.’

  ‘We can’t board the train,’ Hal said to his uncle, ‘but I’d like to see the engine and maybe draw it.’

  ‘Of course,’ Uncle Nat said, getting to his feet and picking up his holdall. ‘It was nice meeting you, Birgitta.’

  Up on the platform, the air was bitingly cold, but Hal didn’t feel it as he hurried to the front of the train, to see the locomotive that would pull him all the way to the Arctic Circle. She was mostly silver, with round porthole windows in her side, a square red nose and a snowplough shielding her undercarriage. A pantograph reached up to the electric wires above the tracks to power the train. Hal thought the engine looked sturdy and reassuring. He liked the circular lamps on her front, beneath the two rectangular windscreens; they made it look like the engine had rosy cheeks.

  ‘They’ve opened the doors for passengers to board.’ Uncle Nat looked at his watches. ‘If we leave soon, we’ll only be departing twenty minutes late.’

  ‘I’ve got the outline. I can finish my picture on the train,’ Hal said, snapping his sketchbook shut and feeling a thrill at the prospect of their epic journey. ‘Let’s go and find our compartment.’

  As they walked back along the platform, Hal saw the Dynamic Dozen struggling aboard with their instruments. A flash of blue and red caught his eye, and he turned his head to find he was staring at the Sámi girl he’d seen in the Christmas market that morning. She noticed him looking at her and turned away. Hal felt himself getting hot with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to be rude.

  ‘This is us,’ Uncle Nat said, grabbing the handle beside the silver steps and climbing on board. The light grey corridor was narrow, with a dark linoleum floor. The windows were framed with pine. Uncle Nat checked the numbers outside each compartment, until he found the one matching their ticket.

  The compartment was small, but functional. On the right wall was a narrow red sofa that would convert into a bed, and above Hal’s head a bunk had been made up with white sheets. A fold-out shelf suggested a third bunk could be added between the two. There was a corner sink below the window and enough floor space for two people to stand. A ladder was bolted to the left wall, and could be released using a hinge, allowing a person to climb into the top bunk.

  ‘Room for three, but perfect for two,’ said Uncle Nat, as Hal backed out of the compartment to let him remove his bag and coat.

  There was a loud beeping sound as the train doors began to close. Hal heard a shout and looked out the window. A woman in a bobble hat and pink ski jacket came pelting up the platform stairs holding two full carrier bags in front of her. She leaped onto the train, vanishing from view as the carriage doors clicked shut.

  Hal smiled to himself as the train slowly moved out of Stockholm Central Station. He was on his way to the Arctic!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE SHADOW

  Hal clambered up the ladder and onto his bunk. He was surprised at how roomy the compartment felt. It had a high ceiling, so he had plenty of room to sit cross-legged, and his bed was a few centimetres wider and longer than the sleeper trains he’d taken in the past. He wedged his rucksack into a storage space by his feet and took off his coat, pulling out his sketchbook and pens.

  The lights of an office block slid past the window and Hal noticed how smooth the train’s motion was. It was quiet too. He guessed the Swedish rail tracks must be welded together.

  Uncle Nat removed some items from his holdall and lifted it into a luggage rack above the window. They exchanged contented smiles.

  Hal marked the strong horizontal and vertical lines of the compartment onto a fresh page in his sketchbook, drawing his bird’s-eye view of the room.

  There was a knock on the door. Uncle Nat opened it.

  ‘God eftermiddag, sir.’ A smiling woman stood in the doorway wearing a uniform in the same colours as the train: charcoal trousers, a light grey shirt and a red buttoned-up waistcoat. Her hair was pulled up into a neat bun above her heavily made-up face.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ Uncle Nat replied.

  ‘You are English?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re a party of three?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Have you been informed of the diverted route and the new arrival times of the train?’

  ‘Yes, I believe we’re taking an inland route to avoid a damaged bridge?’

  ‘This is correct.’ She glanced up at Hal, who was inserting her into his drawing. ‘Please listen for announcements. The driver will update you with new information when he gets it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Uncle Nat nodded. ‘We will.’

  ‘The restaurant is now open for teas, coffees and dinner. My name is Inga. You can find me on the train if you need help with anything. I will check on you sometimes.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Uncle Nat closed the door and looked up at Hal. ‘How is it up there?’

  ‘Brilliant. I’ve got lots of room.’ As he said this, Hal threw his arms out to demonstrate, and his sketchbook slid from his knees and tumbled off the bunk. Uncle Nat caught it before it could hit the ground. ‘Whoops! Sorry!’ Hal reached his hand down to retrieve the book, but Uncle Nat was staring at his picture of the Dynamic Dozen.

  ‘This drawing.’ His voice was a whisper.

  ‘It’s the musicians in the tiny orchestra.’ Hal’s stomach tightened at the expression on Uncle Nat’s face. Something was wrong.

  ‘It can’t be,’ Uncle Nat said to himself, slowly sitting on the red sofa.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Hal grabbed hold of the ladder and climbed down. ‘Is there something wrong with my picture?’

  ‘Everyone in this picture, you’re sure they’re all in the Dynamic Dozen?’ Uncle Nat’s face was ashen.

  ‘Yes.’ Hal sat down beside his uncle and looked at the drawing. ‘Birgitta told me all their names and the instruments they played, but I’ve not finished the picture yet.’

  ‘Who is this man?’ Uncle Nat pointed to a man at the edge of the picture, beside Magnus the conductor and Helena the harpist.

  ‘He’s a violin player.’ Hal pointed to the case beside him. ‘Birgitta was about to tell me his name, but she got cut off.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Hal was about to say yes, but then he thought for a moment. Was he sure? He looked back at the picture. ‘They’re called the Dynamic Dozen, right? And there are . . .’ He counted them. ‘Twelve musicians plus the conductor.’ He looked enquiringly at his uncle. ‘Why? Who do you think he is?’

  ‘It can’t be who I thought it was.’ Uncle Nat leaned back. ‘I’m sorry. Ignore me. I don’t know what’s got into me. It’s been a strange day, what with Morti taking off like that, and then the pickpocket incident. I’m a little on edge. Do you know, when we were walking through Kungsträdgården, I felt like we were being followed.’

  Hal sat bolt upright. ‘I had the same feeling.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘I didn’t want to say anything in case it sounded stupid.’

  ‘Neither did I!’

  They stared at each other for a second, and then both laughed.

  ‘What are we like?’ Uncle Nat shook his head.

  Hal pointed at the man in the picture. ‘Who did you think this was?’

  ‘It can’t be him. The man I was thinking of is dead.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘He died a long time ago, when you were a baby. He was infamous, although not many people knew what he looked like. His identity was a closely guarded secret.’

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘He was a hitman, an assassin, known as the Shadow.’

  ‘An assassin?’

  ‘Yes. He started his career as a French spy, but became a double agent, earning him the name Moucharder. It means rat in French.’

  ‘Moucharder,’ Hal repeated.

  ‘When he was exposed as a double agent, selling secrets for money, he went to ground, hiding in England. Moucharder later resurfaced as a gun for hire and became known as “the Shadow”. He was a deadly shot. They used to say, “You cannot outrun the Shadow.” It is believed he was behind at least two assassinations during the Cold War.’

  ‘How did he die?’

  ‘He was shot and fell from a cliff into the sea.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because . . .’ Uncle Nat sighed. ‘Because I was there when it happened.’

  ‘You were?’

  ‘The British government wanted a witness, a journalist, who would write the story of how the Shadow was neutralized.’

  ‘Neutralized?’

  ‘Vanquished.’

  ‘You mean killed, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Uncle Nat looked ashamed. ‘The Shadow walked into a trap. He was hired to assassinate someone, but when he turned up to do the job, there were people waiting for him.’

  Hal looked down at the picture of the violin player. ‘Do you really think this could be him?’

  ‘His face is etched into my memory.’ Uncle Nat’s voice was a whisper.

  ‘Why would he be playing violin with the Dynamic Dozen?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Uncle Nat admitted. ‘He should be dead. But, if he isn’t, and it is him . . .’

  The silence that accompanied the look they exchanged was heavy with dread.

  ‘What do we do?’ Hal asked.

  ‘The Shadow knows who I am. He knows what I look like. If he is alive and on this train, I can’t leave the compartment. It could put both our lives in jeopardy.’

  ‘You don’t think he’s after you?’

  ‘I don’t see how he could be.’ Uncle Nat pushed his thumb and forefinger under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘But if he discovers I’m on the train . . .’

  ‘Do you think he’d want revenge?’ Hal’s chest felt tight at the thought of anyone wanting to harm his uncle.

  ‘Would you want revenge, if someone had been part of an attempt on your life?’

  Hal studied his drawing trying to remember what the man had been doing in the ticket hall. ‘This man can’t be the Shadow. You have to be a really good musician to play violin professionally.’

  ‘There’s one way to know for certain. In the early part of his career, the Shadow was injured on an espionage mission for the French government. The top of his ear was taken off by a bullet. If the violin player has part of his ear missing, then we’ll know he is the Shadow.’ Uncle Nat puffed out a long breath. ‘Look, Hal, we’re only on this train until tomorrow afternoon. I think it would be best if we stay in our compartment until then.’ He forced a smile, shoving his hand into his holdall. ‘I brought a deck of cards.’ He pulled out a box of playing cards. ‘We could play gin rummy?’

  ‘Wait, but the Shadow doesn’t know who I am,’ Hal said. ‘I can go and get us food from the restaurant car. We’re going to need dinner and breakfast. And, if I see the violin player, I can look at his ears.’

  Uncle Nat frowned.

  ‘My Plopp won’t be enough food to keep us going until tomorrow afternoon.’ Hal suppressed a chuckle at the name of the chocolate bar, but Uncle Nat didn’t smile.

  ‘I suppose, if you went now, the restaurant should be reasonably empty. Passengers will be settling into their compartments. It’s a while till dinner.’ He took a credit card from his wallet. ‘Grab any food that looks tasty and get lots. And if the violin player is there, stay away from him. Do you hear me? Don’t so much as look at him.’

  Hal nodded as he took the card. ‘Is there anything you especially want?’

  ‘I’ll be happy with anything, but if there’s reindeer stew, I’ll have that.’

  ‘Reindeer stew?’ Hal stared at his uncle with horror. ‘No one eats that!’

  ‘Yes, they do. It’s delicious and a common Swedish dish, especially in the north.’ Uncle Nat smiled at the look on Hal’s face. ‘Reindeer meat is very lean and tasty. You should try it.’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Hal thought of Rudolph and the reindeers that pulled Father Christmas’s sleigh. He’d never thought about them being edible!

  Slipping his uncle’s card into his pocket, Hal drew in a deep breath, told himself he was on a secret mission, and yanked the compartment door open. Every muscle in his entire body immediately froze as he found himself staring at a very familiar woman, with her fist raised about to knock.

  ‘Mum!’ Hal cried out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE MOTHER OF ALL SHOCKS!

  ‘Mum! Wh-what are you doing here?’ Hal spluttered, feeling like he’d been doused in icy water.

  ‘Bev!’ Uncle Nat jumped to his feet. He looked as shocked as Hal was. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Hal’s mum said, looking from him to Hal and back again. ‘Is it? Is everything all right? You tell me.’ Her voice was shrill as she narrowed her eyes accusingly. ‘Nat, why aren’t you answering your mobile phone? I’ve been trying to call you since last night!’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Uncle Nat said, taking his sister’s arm, pulling her into the compartment by the sleeve of her rustling pink ski jacket, and shutting the door. ‘Come in, Bev. Sit down.’ He lowered her onto the seat beside him. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I lost my phone yesterday evening and I haven’t had the chance to replace it.’

  ‘You lost it?’

  ‘Doing the funky chicken,’ Hal said, waggling his arms, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘Surely me not answering my phone isn’t the reason you’ve come all the way to Stockholm? Is it? Bev?’

  Hal’s mum grabbed him, wrapping her arms around him so tightly she squeezed the air out of his lungs. ‘I came because . . . because . . . after you left me at the airport, when I was walking back to the car, I got this horrible feeling.’

  Hal tried to disentangle himself. ‘What horrible feeling?’

  ‘I thought . . . I thought . . . I might never see you again.’ Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. ‘You don’t know what it’s like.’ She shook her head. ‘Every time you go on one of these adventures, something terrible always happens, and this time . . . I just had this awful feeling that you might not come back.’ She looked at Hal as if he were about to vanish in a puff of smoke.