Breakheart Pass

he's still aboard the train.'

Marica looked at him in cold disbelief. 'And you thought that perhaps I–'

Hastily and at his most pacific O'Brien said: 'No, no. Miss Fairchild. It's just that he could have sneaked in here silently when you were asleep–'

'Well, he's not hiding under my bed.' There was considerable asperity in Marica's tone.

'I can see that, ma'am. Please excuse me.' O'Brien beat what was clearly an uncharacteristically rapid retreat, and the sound of his footsteps was lost as he moved along the passageway. Deakin's head appeared from under the clothes–'

Well now, ma'am.' Deakin's voice was frankly admiring. 'That was something. And you never even had to tell a lie. I'd never have believed–'

'Out! You're covered with snow from head to foot and I'm freezing.'

'No. You get out. Get out, get dressed and bring Colonel Claremont here.'

'Get dressed! With – with you lying–'

Deakin laid a weary forearm across his eyes 'My dear girl – that is to say, I mean, ma'am – I have other and less pleasant things to think of. You saw that card. Don't let anyone hear you talk to him. Don't let anyone see you bring him here. And don't tell him I'm here.'

Marica gave him a very old-fashioned speculative look but she didn't argue any more. There was something in Deakin's face that precluded further argument. She dressed quickly, left and returned within two minutes, followed by an understandably bewildered-looking Colonel Claremont.

As Marica closed the door behind them Deakin drew back the covers from his face and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk.

'Deakin! Deakin!' Claremont stared his disbelief. 'What in God's name–' He broke off and reached for the Colt at his waist.

'Leave that damned gun alone.' Deakin said tiredly. 'You're going to have every chance to use it later. Not on me, though.'

He handed Claremont his card. Claremont took it hesitantly, read it, then read it a second time and third time. He said: '“John Stanton Deakin… United States Government … Federal Secret Service … Allan Pinkerton.”' Claremont recovered his aplomb with remarkable speed and calmly handed the card back to Deakin. 'Mr Pinkerton I know personally. That's his signature. I know you too. Now. Or I know of you. In 1866 you were John Stanton. You were the man who broke open the $700,000 Adams Express robbery in that year.' Deakin nodded. 'What do you want me to do, Mr Deakin?'

'What does he want you - but you've only just met him. Colonel.' Marica was openly incredulous. 'How do you know that he – I mean, don't you question him or–'

'No one questions John Stanton Deakin, my dear.' Claremont's voice was almost gentle.

'But I've never even heard of–'

'We're not allowed to advertise,' Deakin said patiently. 'Secret Service the card says. There's no time for questions. They're on to me now and neither of your lives is worth a burnt-out match.' He paused reflectively. 'That would still hold true even if they weren't on to me. But it's come earlier now. Every other person left alive on this train at this moment has only one ambition in life – to see we don't stay alive.' He opened the door a crack, listened, then closed it. 'They're up front, talking. Now's our one and only chance. Come on.' He ripped the sheets from Marica's bed and stuffed them under his jacket.

Claremont said: 'What do you want those for?'

'Later. Come on.'

'Come on?' Marica spoke almost wildly. 'My uncle! I can't leave–'

Deakin said very softly. ' I intend to see that the honourable and upright Governor, your beloved uncle, stands trial for murder, high treason and grand larceny.'

Marica looked at him in totally uncomprehending silence, her face registering almost a state of shock. Deakin eased open the door. A babble of excited raised voices could be heard from the officers' day compartment. Henry, at the moment, was holding the floor.

'Richmond! That's where I saw him. Richmond!' Henry sounded acutely unhappy. 'Sixty-three, it was. A Union espionage agent. I saw him just the once. He escaped. But that's him.'

'God! A Federal agent.' O'Brien's tone was vicious but the accompanying apprehension was more than just underlying. 'You know what this means, Governor?'

Apparently the Governor knew all too well what it meant. His voice was shaking and pitched abnormally high.

'Find him! For God's sake find him. Find him and kill him. Do you hear me? Kill him! Kill him!'

'I think he wants to kill me,' Deakin said in Marica's ear. 'Charming old boy, isn't he?'

Deakin hurried soft-footed down the passageway, a white-faced, badly shaken Marica behind with a singularly unflustered Claremont bringing up the rear. They walked quickly through the dining-room and moved out on to the rear platform. Wordlessly, Deakin gestured towards the roof. Claremont glanced at him in momentary puzzlement, then nodded his understanding. With an assist from Deakin he was swiftly on the roof, clinging to a ventilator with one hand while reaching for Marica with the other. Soon all three were on the roof, huddled together, their backs to the driving snow.

'This is dreadful!' Marica's voice was shaking, but it was with cold and not from fear. 'We'll freeze to death up here.'

'Don't speak ill of train roofs.' Deakin said reprovingly. 'They've become a kind of second home to me. Besides, at this moment, it's the safest place on this train. Bend down!'

At the urging of both his voice and arms they bent down as a thick broom of feathery conifer needles brushed their backs. Deakin said : 'The safest place if, that is, you watch out for those damned low-lying branches.'

'And now?' Claremont was very calm, with the faint air of a man who expected to be enjoying himself any moment.

'We wait. We wait and we listen.' Deakin stretched himself out on the roof and put his ear to the ventilator. Claremont at once did the same. Deakin reached out an arm and pulled Marica down beside them.

She said coldly: 'You don't have to keep your arm round me.'

'It's the romantic surroundings,' Deakin explained, i'm very susceptible to that sort of thing.'

'Are you indeed?' Her voice was icy as the night.

'I don't want you to fall off the damned train.' She lapsed into hurt silence.

'They're there,' Claremont said softly. Deakin nodded.

O'Brien, Pearce and Henry, all with guns in their hands, stood in momentary indecision in the dining compartment.

Pearce said: 'If Henry heard a scream and Deakin did have a fight with Carlos, maybe they both fell off the train and–'

In so far as it was possible for the Governor to run, he came running into the compartment. Two yards and he was out of breath.

'My niece! She's gone!'

There was a brief, baffled silence from which O'Brien was the first to recover. He said to Henry: 'Go see if Colonel Claremont – no, I'll go myself.'

Deakin and Claremont exchanged glances, then Deakin twisted and peered over the rear edge just in time to see O'Brien crossing swiftly between the first and second coaches. O'Brien, Deakin noted, had forgotten the elementary courtesy of holstering his pistol before going calling on his commanding officer. Deakin moved back to the ventilator, absent-mindedly putting his arm round the girl's shoulders. If she had objections, she failed to voice them.

Claremont said: 'You and Carlos had differences?'

'Some. On the roof of the supply wagon. He fell off.'

'Carlos? Fell off? That nice big cheerful man?' Marica's capacity for absorbing fresh and increasingly unwelcome information was about exhausted. 'But – but he may be badly hurt. I mean, lying back there on the track-side, perhaps freezing to death in this awful cold.'