Young Sherlock Holmes_ Fire Storm - Andrew Lane [52]
The skin around Mr Kyte’s eyes and on his cheeks, Sherlock remembered, had been covered with hundreds of small scratches. They had looked strangely like shaving cuts, but in areas where hair did not normally grow. Despite the smeary window between them, Sherlock was close enough that he could see those cuts now. There was no doubt – it was Mr Kyte.
Kyte stared Sherlock in the eye for a long moment. He didn’t smile, or nod, or acknowledge in any way that he had been seen. After a few seconds he slowly drew back, into the shadow cast by a structure in the centre of the platform – a storage area of some kind. Sherlock’s heart was racing, and the air seemed to catch on an obstruction in his chest every time he tried to take a breath.
He had to tell Rufus Stone! He had to tell Mycroft! He didn’t know whether Mr Kyte’s presence indicated that the Paradol Chamber were involved in Amyus Crowe’s disappearance, whether they were following Sherlock because they blamed him for upsetting their plans or whether the whole thing was a complete coincidence, but the fact was that Mr Kyte was there, watching him, watching them, and that meant that things had changed. The situation was not the same as it had been just ten minutes earlier.
A blast from a steam whistle jerked Sherlock’s thoughts back on track. The train was about to go. He started to get up out of his seat, aware that neither Rufus Stone nor Matty had returned, but just then the door to the compartment slid back and Matty entered. He was holding a pork pie in one hand.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Close enough. Where’s Rufus?’
Matty frowned. ‘I thought he’d be back here by now. He was a minute or so ahead of me.’ He tossed the pie in the air and caught it again. ‘Saw a pile of these on a market stall just outside the station. The bloke who was selling them got distracted by some woman walking past. Just gave me enough time to swipe one.’
‘But –’ Sherlock started, then stopped. This was no time for talking. He pushed past Matty and headed out of the compartment, into the corridor that ran the length of the carriage. There were doors at either end leading to the platform. He ran to the nearest one and looked out of the window.
All along the platform passengers were getting back on board, but there was no sign of Rufus Stone.
The train whistle blasted again. Within moments the platform was clear apart from the station guard, who was glancing back and forth along the length of the train, waiting to wave his flag.
Sherlock stared left and right. Rufus Stone wasn’t in sight. Sherlock wanted to jump off and search the station for his friend, but the train was moments from leaving. What if Rufus had got on another carriage and was walking through the train at that moment? If that was what had happened, and Sherlock got off, then he would be the one who was missing. Stranded on a station where the Paradol Chamber were watching him.
But what if the Paradol Chamber had caught Rufus Stone? There was certainly unfinished business between Stone and Mr Kyte.
The train jerked into life. The engine pulled away from the platform, dragging its carriages behind it. Within moments the station was receding behind them, and they were heading out of the city and into the countryside.
Sherlock made his way back to the compartment and stood outside, looking left and right along the corridor, hoping against hope that Rufus Stone would appear, casually sauntering along in that infuriating way of his. After five minutes he had to admit to himself that Stone wasn’t going to appear.