Since parting ways with John Shroder in France, things had not been going well for David Carter. By the time the message from Winters arrived, Shroder had already left on his fact-finding mission and although the directions had been simple – head to Athens airport and await further directions – Carter’s chosen mode of travel had been deemed unacceptable by the old man. Carter had then sent a long-winded text message explaining how, due to the Templars now being after them, taking to the air would be reckless given the organization’s ability to track all flights. They would therefore certainly get to him long before he had a chance to retrieve the final pages of the Gigas Codex.
With his usual finesse and charm, Winters had offered a brutal choice. ‘Get yourself on the next flight out, or Dr Chloe Stanton dies here and now.’
With little room to negotiate, Carter had done exactly that and opted for a flight from Paris to Greece. And although this had taken a while, it had been nowhere near the length of time he had hoped to stall for. On his arrival, Winters had sent him further instructions about catching a train for the next leg of his trip. This had offered Carter hope of some leeway because, in his experience, trains never ran on time. Unfortunately for him, not only had the train arrived and then left promptly, but it turned out to be a direct line with no time-wasting stops on the way.
There was some good news to be had, though, amongst the menacing threats on Chloe’s life.
One: the location of the pages was in a community of monasteries at a place called Meteora, which was a well-known tourist landmark, meaning there would be plenty of people around if any trouble should arise.
Two: Winters, by all accounts, had no idea Carter was travelling solo.
The latter consideration became the most important and, as Carter watched the Greek countryside slide past his window, he began to think further of Chloe. A woman he had never met, and had not even seen a picture of, yet here he was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse across Europe, like in a James Bond-style spy adventure revolving at that moment around himself and his powers of deception.
That’s right, David, Carter thought to himself, and he began feeling supremely confident and brave about his undertaking. This one’s for the ladies.
It was about this time, as he checked out his own ‘no-nonsense look’ in the reflection from the window beside him, that he noticed a small man in a black suit standing at the far end of the carriage glancing towards him. At first he thought it was his own paranoia playing tricks, but as he stole another glance at the window’s reflection, he noticed now that the man was most definitely eyeing him suspiciously.
Carter didn’t flinch or look directly at the man, but instead remained calm and collected even as his heart began beating ever harder. He felt sure he did not recognize the individual, but then again, why would he? For if Winters had sent someone to keep an eye on him, then he certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to send someone familiar. Besides, given the number of people pursuing both Harker and himself, it could be anyone. The Templars or one of Vlad’s men – take your pick.
Carter stood up and began to fiddle around beside his seat, his hands out of the man’s sight, and he hoped this would signal a relaxed demeanour, like he wasn’t in a rush. He then turned his attention to a sign with a toilet logo on it, pausing this time to indicate he was intending to use the toilet. He felt he may have overdone it because he stared at it for quite a few seconds with his forefinger pressed thoughtfully to his lips. This probably gave the impression that he was either a bit slow-witted or had a fascination with toilet signs.
After a few seconds more of pondering, he started making his way through to the next carriage. As the connecting door closed behind him, he sneaked a glance behind only to find the same man now making his way towards him. With a light step, Carter made his way straight to the next carriage doorway. As he crossed the threshold, he heard the door behind him opening. The fellow was obviously closing in on him, and he fought the urge to run because at that moment he didn’t know if his pursuer knew that he’d realized someone was after him.
Remarkable, Carter reckoned. He had no idea a pursuit could be so complicated, and given that the train must have been going at ninety kilometres an hour and there were only two further carriages ahead, he was going to have to think of something quick. Much to his relief, he saw a group of three teenagers approaching the next connecting door, so he stepped up his pace and reached it before they could. He then opened it and bustled on past them, so the pursuer’s view of him would be blocked, then he dived into the left-hand toilet cubicle and slid the ‘Occupied’ sign into place.
It would only be a matter of time before he was discovered, because there was only one carriage beyond, and once the man had checked it, he would undoubtedly backtrack to the last place anyone could hide…the toilet.
Carter scanned the grotty little stall for anything he could use as a weapon, but after finding only a half-used toilet roll, along with a dispenser well-stocked with paper towels, he began to panic. He turned his attention to the small, greyed-out window, opened only halfway, which would struggle to accommodate the girth of a pet chihuahua let alone a forty-something man with a capacious waistline.
Behind him came a knock at the door and Carter froze with his hands held out in front of him, like a panther waiting to strike…or perhaps someone about to surrender.
‘Anyone in there?’ asked a deep voice with a European accent, but Carter said nothing, remaining silent and motionless.
A few seconds passed and the knocking came again, only harder this time.
‘I said, is anyone in there?’
Carter’s jaw felt paralysed and, as the knocking began for a third time, he broke out of his trance. ‘Yes, I’m having a few problems here. Do you mind?’
‘Yes, I do mind.’ The voice sounded more demanding with every syllable. ‘You need to come out right now or there’ll be trouble.’
Sweat was now beading across Carter’s brow and he clenched his fist, tensed his biceps and reached over for the door lock. If this was it, then he wasn’t going to go down easily, whoever it was. He took a deep breath, flicked back the lock and then slammed his full weight against the door, sending it flying open and into the man on the other side, who in turn slammed back against the far side of the corridor.
It was the same man in the suit that had been following him, and Carter grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and glared at him ominously. ‘Who are you?’ he shouted. ‘What do you want?’
The fellow offered no resistance but, in one fluid movement, reached into his pocket, pulled something out and thrust it in front of him. Was it a gun? Was it a knife?
The glint of metal was all Carter could see and he was about to reach for it when he recognized the object and immediately loosened his grip on the stranger as the instrument was jabbed towards him.
It was a hole-punch.
‘Ticket, sir,’ the man explained, looking startled after Carter’s aggressive exit from the cubicle. And it was at this moment the ex-don realized the fellow was not wearing a suit at all, but rather a black uniform with a tie.
‘I’m sorry,’ he offered apologetically, letting go of the man as he took a step backwards. ‘I thought you were someone else.’
The ticket collector now looked angry and double-tapped the hole-punch threateningly. ‘Who did you think I was, sir?’
‘Oh, just an obsessive fan,’ Carter replied, retrieving his ticket from a pocket. ‘I’m a famous writer, you know, one can never be too careful.’
This explanation for his barging out of the toilet so aggressively was crap at best, but it appeared to soothe the collector’s temper and he snipped a hole in Carter’s ticket. ‘Well, I am definitely not a fan, sir.’
‘Of course not. I do apologize.’
With a grunt, the ticket collector headed back into the nearest carriage and Carter turned to the window and gazed at his own reflection, once again feeling supremely confident and now truly relishing the adventure. ‘I hope Alex is enjoying all this as much as I am,’ he muttered, and then began to make his way back to his seat.