One Shot Kill - Robert Muchamore Page 0,55

OK?’ Paul asked, looking along the tracks at Justin running off, as the rest of the team set off down the embankment.

‘I don’t know,’ Marc said.

Paul was behind Sam as the younger boy lost his footing on the steep embankment. Paul’s leading foot hit Sam’s container, his back foot slipped in the mud and he began ploughing downhill dragged by the weight of his own canister.

There was no major damage, but Paul found himself sprawled in a puddle with the muddy sole of Sam’s boot pressed against the back of his neck.

‘Nice entrance, little brother,’ Rosie said.

Brown water dribbled down Paul’s collar as Rosie helped him to his feet. He felt like giving his sister a hug, but she was in a light cotton dress and he was muddy from the embankment and black with coal dust.

‘The house is about fifty metres away, through the bushes and to the left,’ Rosie explained. ‘There’s soap and hot water waiting. You need to wash and change quickly, so we can move you to a safe house.’

‘Rosie, can you deal with my canister?’ Marc asked urgently, as he made a more co-ordinated descent of the hill. ‘I need to speak to Henderson.’

‘He’s already on his way to the house,’ Rosie said. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Justin said he saw railway cops and was going off to deal with them, but I’m not sure what he means by that.’

‘They hassle him all the time,’ Rosie said. ‘I expect he’ll tease them into chasing him in the other direction.’

Marc nodded. ‘But he’s only little. Shouldn’t we at least check that he’s OK?’

Rosie had a lot of faith in Justin, and it took an outsider’s perspective to remind her that he was a young boy with no espionage training.

‘Maybe we should,’ she agreed, before turning to face Luc and Goldberg, who’d both just arrived at the bottom of the hill.

Goldberg had also seen Justin running off and took charge. ‘Luc, use those big muscles and help Rosie get all the canisters out of sight,’ he ordered. ‘Marc, you’re with me.’

Goldberg led Marc back up the embankment. There was no sign of Justin so they crept along the trackside, keeping as low as they could. By the time they’d walked fifty metres, the air was full of steam and the empty coal trucks had begun to move.

When the embankment ended the pair found themselves crossing a bridge, with less than half a metre between a low brick wall and the side of the accelerating train. As the wagons rattled past and the steam cleared, Marc and Goldberg peered around the end of the wall.

There were a couple of railway workers at the water tower seventy metres ahead, but they were more interested in voices they could hear out of sight, behind a disused signal box. Goldberg pointed at himself, then at the near side of the box.

‘I’ll go there,’ he whispered. ‘You go around the other end.’

After a glance to make completely sure there was nobody sitting up high in the signal box, Marc dashed over a stretch of dandelions and loose pebbles. Marc heard Justin yelp as he crouched down with his left shoulder against the wooden building.

The voice that came from behind the signal box had the tone of a schoolyard bully. ‘We’ve warned you, Justin. Maybe we should arrest you this time.’

‘Remember the first time we put you in our cell?’ a different voice with the same tone asked. ‘Crying for your mummy when I dunked your head in the toilet bowl?’

Marc peered around the side of the hut for a proper look. The two bullies were thick-set men, dressed in red-piped Railway Police uniform. One was bald, nearing sixty, while the other looked fortyish and must have barely escaped being drafted into the French army before the war.

‘Why are you so mean?’ Justin asked, as he looked up at his tormentors. ‘I give you plenty of coal, don’t I?’

The older guard laughed as he shoved Justin up against the box and gave him a punch in the ribs. It wasn’t as hard as it could have been, but it was enough to hurt a ten-year-old.

‘Your mum must earn plenty scrubbing Boche skid marks,’ the older guard said. ‘I don’t need much coal at this time of year, but I’d better see five francs next time I see you, or you’ll get locked up.’

‘Might find yourself slipping under a wagon and getting your legs mangled,’ the younger one added menacingly, as the older cop gave Justin