Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5)(60)

“Maybe we will have more luck trying,” Marshall suggested. “Which is his compartment?”

Lev sidled closer to his side. “I can direct you there. I remember.”

“Yes, you do that, Lev.” Vodin was already gesturing for the attendant to step aside again so he could return to the hard-class carriages. “I have some further matters to sort out for hard-class, but keep yourselves busy. I will reconvene with you once the train is moving along.”

He pushed out of the carriage. Lev bounded into action, exclaiming, “Follow me!” and charging in the other direction.

“We only ever seem to have terrible luck on trains,” Benedikt muttered, meaning only for Marshall to hear his words.

“That’s not true,” Marshall replied brightly. “Our last trip into Zhouzhuang went perfectly fine.”

“Our last trip, for Roma’s birthday?” Benedikt asked, unsure if Marshall was being serious or pulling his leg. “In 1929? When our train halted on the Chinese Eastern Railway before our destination? Because the Soviet Red Army had started fighting the Chinese?”

Marshall winced. “It was a small skirmish. We transferred into Harbin smoothly.”

“The Soviets detained almost every Chinese person in the Russian Far East! We were this close to putting a bag over your head to hide you from view in case they asked for your papers!” Benedikt put both his hands on Marshall’s aforementioned head, steering him forward faster as they walked. “We all need to relocate before Sino-Soviet relations turn wholly foul and travel becomes unmanageable. I’m going to get early heart failure otherwise.”

“I feed us too many healthy meals for you to get early heart failure.”

At once, Benedikt moved his left hand so that it clapped over Marshall’s mouth instead, keeping him quiet as they proceeded into the third carriage. “Nonsense. I could be a medical marvel.”

“It’s this one,” Lev announced up ahead. He waited for Benedikt and Marshall, bouncing on his toes patiently in the middle of the carriage passageway. The floor remained stationary beneath them, but a low vibration was traveling along the carpet, shaking with the rumble of fuel being pumped into the engines.

Benedikt, becoming a professional again, removed his hand from Marshall’s mouth as they stopped outside Eduard Kozlov’s compartment. He straightened his posture. “Is Mr. Kozlov in there?”

“I think I hear something.” Lev pressed his ear to the door. He listened for a moment, only looking curious, but then his expression flashed into confusion. “Actually, I hear a lot of rustling.”

“Mr. Kozlov, if we could have a moment of your time.” Marshall leaned forward to knock, his knuckles coming down on the compartment door. While he kept his tone nice, asking for cooperation, Benedikt mimicked Lev’s position and leaned closer to determine exactly what he was hearing.

It wasn’t just rustling. That sounded like the window being pushed back.

“Oh, shit.” Benedikt slammed his shoulder against the door without warning, scaring Lev and Marshall. “Stand back, stand back!”

He tried again, harder. The door flew open.

They were just in time to see Eduard Kozlov climbing through his compartment window while clutching a briefcase. A beat later, he slipped down the side of the train and into the night.





10


“Hold on! Benedikt!”

Too late. Before Marshall could shout another warning, Benedikt had shot forward in chase, shoving a foot onto the side of the bunk bed to push himself up and clambering onto the windowsill. Quick as a flash, he squeezed himself through too and jumped out on Kozlov’s tail.

“Why,” Marshall whined. Still, he didn’t dawdle. While Lev stood there in shock, Marshall conducted the fastest scan of Eduard Kozlov’s compartment. He spotted a key lying on the bedside table. On the desk was an advertisement flyer with thick, dark numbers scribbled over the top, as if someone had been trying to balance an account. Marshall didn’t have the time to take a better look, but on mere first glance, he did think the flicked ends resembled the letters on the mirror.

“Lev, listen carefully.” Marshall picked up the flyer and shoved it at the boy. “Find your uncle. Have him signal to the engineer to wait for us. We will return on board.”

With that, Marshall ran for the window as well, hauling himself onto the sill and taking a flying leap out. The landing was rough on his ankles, but it was nothing he couldn’t quickly recover from. He searched the night and caught sight of two figures. The train had stopped a bit farther along the tracks, overshooting its usual position; Kozlov seemed to be running for the station, which meant they were moving parallel to the carriages.

Think. Think fast.

Marshall sprinted forward. He couldn’t think of anything. Was the station even open at this hour? Would there be other trains coming, or had they stopped running for the night?

“Mars!” Benedikt yelled from ahead.

Marshall jolted. How had Benedikt even known he was running after him? He was a considerable distance away.

“Get ready!”

“Ready?” he bellowed back. “For wha—”

With a whip-fast motion, Benedikt flung something, and Kozlov tripped, dropping his briefcase. Benedikt caught up to him in that quick tumble, diving to secure him in place, grappling in the dirt. Kozlov tried to punch up; Benedikt ducked fast and yanked his arm behind him.