The Passenger by Daniel Hurst (ready to read books .TXT) 📗

I return to the ticket barriers, where I can get a better view of all the other platforms, and I look for any sign of the dark-haired man with the rucksack. The fact that his partner was here too only confirms that James must be at this station. I feel like I’m so close to finding him, but there’s just too many people around for me to pick him out.

I turn around and look the other way, ignoring the passengers who are now trying to see why several station employees are running down one of the platforms towards the train that has stopped halfway down the tracks. I’m looking for the one passenger who isn’t stopping. The one who isn’t distracted. The one who is desperate to get away.

And then I see him.

Over the head of a tall man and a redheaded woman with a large suitcase.

It’s James.

I set off in pursuit, running after him, terrified of losing him again now in the crowd after finally finding him. I can see the rucksack slung over his shoulder, and knowing exactly what he has got in there only causes me to quicken my pace.

As I push past a young guy trying to film the chaos in the station on his camera phone, I hear the tannoy click on overhead, and a male voice booms out of the speakers, telling passengers to leave platform five and return to the ticket barriers. But most people here ignore the instruction and continue trying to get a better look at the body on the tracks, their morbid curiosity getting the better of their common sense and respect for the dead.

But I ignore the call from the tannoy too and so does James. I watch as he bends down and scoops up a free newspaper from an unmanned stand before stepping through the doors and boarding the train on platform two.

I stop running now that my chances of losing him have reduced, and instead, I take a moment for my heart rate to settle and my breathing to return to normal. Checking my reflection in the window of the carriage, I make sure that my disguise is still firmly in place.

Then I board the train.

46

JAMES

This service looks to be a quiet one tonight, and there are plenty of vacant seats as I make my way past them before settling on the one with the table at the end of the carriage.

I’ve brushed off the disappointment of finding out that the redhead on the platform was not as single as I’d hoped, and now I’m just looking forward to a chilled journey into Holland. There’ll be plenty of time for enjoying female company in Amsterdam, I’m sure.

Stuffing the ticket back into my pocket, I slump down into my seat and relieve myself of the heavy weight on my shoulder. I’m grateful for the bag of cash, but I’m ready for a break from lugging it around.

Now where’s that drinks trolley?

I look down the carriage but see only a couple more passengers getting on and putting their luggage into the overhead compartments. With no sign of refreshments being on the way yet, I decide to pass the time by flicking through the newspaper I picked up just before I boarded.

I browse through the sports section first before turning to the front of the paper and thumbing through the current affairs stories. I read so many newspapers in prison, mainly because it was one of the few things to do to pass the time, and I lost count of how many crosswords I completed. I’m just about to go in search of a new one when I notice the news story on page eleven.

MYSTERY AROUND MURDERED DIRECTOR REMAINS UNSOLVED ONE MONTH ON

But it’s not the eye-catching headline that grabs my attention. It’s the name in the article.

Charles Montague.

I take the ring out and double-check the name engraved on it with the name of the murder victim in the paper.

Charles & Mary Montague 23.05.70

Well, well, well. I guess there were more secrets in that safe than just the money.

Was Amanda related to this dead director? Is this her inheritance? Or did she kill this guy in the paper? Is she the one the police are looking for?

If so, we really had no idea who we were dealing with after all.

I shake my head in disbelief at my discovery. On one hand, this ring is potentially even more valuable than I realised if it belonged to a famous theatre director. But on the other, I’m carrying an item of jewellery belonging to a murder victim.

How would it look if I got caught with this?

It makes sense to me now why it took Amanda so long to give up the code. She wasn’t doing it to protect the money. She was doing it to protect her secret. If she obtained this ring illicitly, then it’s no surprise that she fought so hard to keep it locked away.

I close the newspaper and toss it onto the empty seat opposite me before taking another look at the ring. I can’t believe Louise’s mum is such a badass. I’m impressed. But I guess she isn’t as bad as me. I’m the one sitting here with all her things, after all.

I place the ring down on the table in front of me and take out my phone, deciding to see if I can get an idea of the valuation on this item of jewellery on the internet. As I do, I’m pleased to see that there have been no calls or messages from my partner in the last ten minutes. I guess after finally figuring out what I have done, he knows there is nothing he can do to catch me now.

I’m just about to Google ‘ring valuations’ when a blonde woman in dark sunglasses arrives at my table and smiles at me.

‘Is it okay if I borrow this newspaper?’ she asks, and I shrug.

‘Go for it,’ I say, returning