Hell Is Too Crowded - Jack Higgins [25]
He pushed the cap to the back of his head and grinned. "Well, that's taken a load off my mind. When do we start?"
She carried a loaded tray into the living-room and he followed her. "The train leaves just after midnight. We can board any time after eleven. I think it would be as well to make it as close to midnight as possible."
He nodded in agreement as she handed him a cup of coffee. "That makes sense. How long will it take us to get to the station?
She shrugged. "About ten minutes, a little longer if we keep to the back streets. We come out at the side of a large hotel and the station's on the opposite side of a square."
"That sounds good," he said. "Anyone seeing us crossing the square will assume I'm bringing your bags across from the hotel."
She nodded. "That's what I thought."
They had another cup of coffee each and after a while, she took the tray back to the kitchen. Brady lit another cigarette, lay back in the chair and tried to relax.
Ten minutes later, she came in wearing her raincoat and a dark beret. He got to his feet and grinned. "Ready to roll?"
She nodded. "How do you feel?"
"Completely numb," he said. "But I'll survive."
They left by the back door, moving out through a small, dark yard into a narrow alley at the rear. The rain had slackened a little and she crossed from one street into another as if she knew exactly where she was going.
They met no one and in little more than fifteen minutes from leaving the house, moved along the narrow street which entered into the main square.
Brady was conscious of the weight of the three suitcases. He paused by the side entrance of the hotel to get a firmer grip on them, and then started across the cobbled square after Anne.
She walked ahead, calm and unhurried, completely sure of herself. There were three police cars parked outside the main entrance to the station. She glanced at them casually and went straight up the steps and into the hall without hesitating.
It was cold and cheerless, the kiosks all closed for the night, but the station restaurant was still open and there were a surprising number of people scattered round the great arched hall waiting for trains.
Two uniformed police constables stood by the ticket barrier, scrutinizing carefully everyone who passed through. Anne had her ticket ready. There was the briefest of pauses while the ticket collector inspected it, and then she was through, Brady trailing at her heels with the suitcases.
The train stood waiting at the platform, a wisp of steam drifting gently up between the wheels of the engine. The sleepers were at the far end and Brady's hands were moist with sweat, his mouth dry.
The young policeman who stood by the entrance to the coach was tired. His mouth opened in a yawn and he raised one hand to stifle it as Anne moved past him.
She handed her ticket to the attendant who stood waiting in his tiny cubicle and he checked it quickly with his register. "The first compartment in the next coach, Miss Dunning. Number twelve. Would you like tea in the morning?
She shook her head. "I'll breakfast later, somewhere in town."
He returned her ticket and smiled. "We get into King's Cross at seven, but you don't need to leave the train until eight."
As another passenger came through the entrance, Anne moved away along the corridor and Brady followed her. They passed through into the next coach. It was quiet and deserted and she quickly opened the door of the compartment and led the way in.
Brady dropped the suitcases, removed his cap and leaned against the door. His forehead was damp with sweat and he whistled softly.
"I wouldn't like to have to go through that lot again."
Her eyes were shining with excitement and she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I told you it would work."
He held her close for a moment, conscious of her warm body, young and vital and alive and after a moment, she gently disengaged