The train station was ten minutes away from the hotel, but we got there quicker. The first trains left somewhere around five. Two were waiting at the platforms with Marshes as their destination, and a four-minute difference between them. One made four stops, the other six. We got onto the car on track number two. The car was empty, as we were eighteen minutes earlier, but it was unthinkable to spend that time carelessly waiting for departure. The mobsters knew we were in Shortridge, and they were on our heels. Not only the mob was out there to get us but also the local police. If the latter caught us, we were dead.
My lungs and throat were burning because of the sprint to the train station. The air was colder and drier than the previous days. I wore a fleece-lined coat and Smith was smart enough to snatch one of Mark's jackets when we fled from the inn, but it didn't save us from the biting cold. As we were catching our breath, we heard the electric door in the back of the coach slide open. Smith gave me a sign to be quiet and peeped out, as he was close to the aisle side.
"It's just the train attendant," he sighed and sat back on his seat. Cautiously, I looked over the headrest to reassure myself that the man who entered the salon was not a killer. Relieved, I fell back into my chair.
"The train attendant!" I exclaimed disdainfully, "Stingy bastard will kick us out when he finds out we don't have tickets or cash to buy them! Even my badge won't stop him!"
"Don't worry, Officer! We can afford a ride or two with the train," said Smith cheerfully and showed me a few banknotes he took out of his pocket.
"Where did you get those?" I whispered surprised.
"Well, when we finished our dinner yesterday and you went to take a shower, I slipped out of the room and went downstairs to Mark's office and borrowed some money from the cash register. For what he has done to us, he owes me that," his eyes were gleaming, and a playful grin appeared on his countenance.
"I should've handcuffed you," I muttered as I turned my face away from him so he wouldn't see me smiling.
Our break didn't last for long. Right after Smith had paid for the tickets, we saw four Arnavuts running down the platform. One gave out directions to the others on where to search for us. They suspected we were in one of the trains to the Marshes and divided themselves. We didn't see them, but we figured they were inspecting the car on track number four, while the other two guys checked our carriages. We decided to leave at once and ran to the back of the coach. But as soon as we reached the gangway bellows, one of the Arnavuts entered our compartment. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with pockmarked skin. The left side of his face was paralysed. The assassin obstructed our way out by standing in the entrance. Before I could grab my gun, he already took out his and pointed it at us, forcing us into a corner.
"You're in big trouble, Anglo-Saxon," his thick accent made it difficult to understand his slurred speech.
"Excuse me, I didn't quite understand. Could you repeat that, please?" sniggered Smith in his most snobbish Anglo-Saxon manner.
The Arnavut took a step forward and punched Smith in the face. Right at that moment, the door behind the crook slid open and the train attendant appeared in the doorway.
"What is going on here?" the man asked confusedly as he surveyed us.
The hitman turned around and pulled the trigger, killing the conductor with one shot in the chest. Smith made use of the killer's disregard and seized the fire extinguisher from the wall in the gangway and struck the Arnavut with it on the back of his head. The mobster staggered and attempted to take hold of Smith but soon lost his balance and collapsed on the floor. We stepped over his body and got off the train. Smith was about to jump on the rails and hide under the platform, but I called him back and told him to follow me to the underground passage. The train to Seaside arrived at platform number one. I ushered Smith to make haste to catch that train.
"Wait, but this train goes in the opposite direction!?" he exclaimed.
"Yes, and they won't look for us there! Get in!" I dragged him inside by his sleeve.
Our train left four minutes later. We concealed ourselves behind the curtains as we watched the mobsters search for us.
We arrived in Seaside an hour later and had to wait another hour for our next train to the Marshes. I thought it was better to take the one that didn't pass through Shortridge but had another route to get to the capital of the North of Gaul. It took us longer to get there but I didn't want to risk running into the Arnavuts in case they were still in Shortridge.
We didn't talk much during that trip. Smith had a hard time dealing with the disappointment and hurt he felt because of Mark's betrayal.
The Marshes were as usual unwelcoming and grey. I knew it would be a tough day the moment I got off on Central Station. We arrived right at the rush hour. A large crowd was waiting outside on the platform. They pushed and yelled at the passengers leaving the train. An aggressive Gaul, impatient to get on board, snatched a young woman by her arm as she struggled getting her luggage off the steps. The woman tumbled down, slitting her eyebrow as her head hit the platform. A skirmish broke out between the upset witnesses of the incident and the rude Gaul. I could have intervened but decided not to and zipped up Smith's coat so that no one would recognise my uniform.
Smith suggested having some tea in a nearby coffee shop. We sat in a corner by the window.
"Despite everything, I must admit that I had a great night's sleep, Officer. How about you?"
I watched him chew on a biscuit as he said that. I tried to spot sarcasm or mockery in his voice, but he seemed to be genuinely unaware of what had happened that night.
"No, I couldn't fall asleep," I replied shortly.
"Oh, really? Why?" Smith sounded surprised.
"Because someone was snoring!" I said as I raised my eyebrows.
"I'm so sorry, Officer! You should've woken me up!"
I didn't say anything to that because God knows I had tried to awaken him.
"By the way, did something strange happen tonight," he paused, "like me sleep-walking?"
He gazed at me. Hot tea steam escaped through his parted lips. I noticed his pupils dilating through the haze. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I read his thoughts reflected on his irises. I could see it all before me, looking through his eyes. I saw myself fast asleep and a hand pulling down my bathrobe, exposing my breast. I saw that hand caressing my body. I could hear my moans and feel the arousal my voice evoked in him. Blood rushed to my face.
"You filthy bastard! You weren't sleep-walking!" I hissed as I reached my hands out to scratch his face. Smith caught them midair and pressed his lips against them, trying to hush down the resentment I felt for him.
"Do you realise what you have done? That was sexual assault!"
I was seething as I couldn't release my hands from his grip, annoyed by his hot breath on my skin.
"That's not true. Nothing serious had happened. Besides, I'll never do anything you don't like. But you liked it. That's what's bothering you. You know it's true and you can't stand it," he caught my index finger between his teeth and sucked on it. I looked around, apprehensive of people seeing us. Thankfully, the two other visitors and the shop owner didn't mind us.
"I wondered how you'd react," he let my wet finger slip out of his mouth, "I was hoping you would just give in to me and enjoy the things I did to you. But I didn't think you'd respond like that. As if you knew what strings to pull. And I must say, I loved … Oh my God, they didn't!"
Smith turned pale as he looked at something above my head. I turned around and saw a flatscreen TV mounted on the wall behind me. The news was on. Two pictures of Smith and I were shown in the bottom right corner of the screen. The news anchor announced that the police were looking for an Anglo-Saxon convict who had kidnapped a Gaul police officer.
"What the hell is this?! Why didn't the Marshes agency stop this from airing? Aren't they supposed to be on your side?!" I enquired softly as I undid my braid, covering my face with hair.
"They haven't promised me any assistance when I agreed to gather information for them. Besides, they probably don't know about you. This news report will surprise them as well. We must leave," Smith took Mark's coat from me and pulled its hood over his head as more people started walking in the coffee shop.
We were just in time to catch the tram that left from the Central Station. As soon as we were inside, Smith cornered me so that other passengers wouldn't see our faces.
"Not so close, Smith," I pushed him slightly off.
"I have too. Are you aware that people stare at you? They notice how beautiful you are and want to have a second look. By the way, I like it when you wear your hair loose," he got even closer when the tram stopped, and a group of young people chaotically shuffled to the door.
"Where are we going?" I asked as the door closed and the tram became quiet, ignoring his worshipping stare focused on me.
"A safe place. We can stay there until I get in contact with the Marshes police and hand them the USB flash drive."
We got off the tram in a typical Marshes neighbourhood. The grey buildings on both sides of the tramway rose up into the sky, creating the illusion of the rooftops leaning towards each other. As far as my eye could see, I perceived the road spiralling in concentric circles, with the pavement, the rails, and the lanterns fusing together. My head spun the longer I gazed into the distance.
"How can someone live in this place?" I shook my head to get rid of an upcoming headache.
"I have lived here for three years since I arrived in Gaul. It's not worse than the place I used to own in Albion," Smith confessed.
We walked through narrow building passages smelling of rubbish and sewers, getting deeper into the shady underworld of the Marshes. I was aware of its existence, but I never thought of ever setting a foot in that realm.
"You used to own? You sold it? Is that why you came to Gaul?" I was curious to find out.
"No. There was another reason," Smith replied pensively but didn't clarify.
"Let me guess. You were tired of stealing the same old stuff on the Misty Isles and you decided to try your luck on the Western mainland?" I teased him.
Smith smiled but it wasn't the same Cheshire cat grin I was familiar with. It was as if he was trying to hide his sadness behind a mask of indifference and common talk.
"It was quite the opposite, Officer. I was the one who was robbed and suddenly there was no place for me in Albion," that puzzled me, but he continued, changing the topic, "Officer, can I rely on your confidentiality? Because the place I'm about to show you is my only refuge no one knows of. It's very important to me it stays secret," he stood before me, looking into my eyes, waiting for my reply.
"Smith, I just want this situation resolved so that I can go back home safely. Once all of this is behind us, I'll forget I ever met you," I spoke with a firm voice but an inner tremor inside my core betrayed that I wasn't being honest.
Initially, I regarded Smith as a detainee I had to bring back to our prison but on finding out that he was involved in something bigger, which was outside of the borders of my precinct, I realised it wasn't my battle and that I had no influence on the course of those events. So, I didn't see why I should play the hero and persecute Smith after he had delivered the USB flash drive. The Marshes police would take care of him.
"Well, in that case, we're here!" he exclaimed cheerfully.
Smith brought me to an abandoned three storey brick building. The house was the last in a series of similar edifices, enclosed inside a tall spiky metal fence. The premises were surrounded by dry trees and thorny branches of dead rose bushes. The windows on the first floor were boarded up. Smith walked up to the fence and opened the rusty, creaking gate, the sound of which made me shudder.