a dilapidated ticket office with a single platform attached. An island in between railway tracks formed two more platforms and was connected to the main part of the station by a bridge. At the far end of the station was a barrierless level crossing, which led down to a scrapyard served by its own railway siding.
Morning rush hour was past, but a good number of people still stood on platform one waiting for the trains into Manchester. Nobody paid Marc any notice as he studied the timetable. The station clock said it was eighteen minutes past nine. It seemed there were three trains an hour to London with the next one at nine thirty-nine.
‘The problem is all London trains leave from platform three,’ Marc said, when he got back to PT and Rosie. They’d sat themselves on a wooden bench a hundred metres from the station with the trolley lying flat in the grass beside them. ‘I don’t think we’ll be able to lift that trolley over the bridge. Even if we can, everyone will see us doing it. The only way around it is to go over the level crossing and sneak up the ramp at the end of the platform.’
‘What about platform staff?’ PT asked. ‘They’ll nab us if they see us sneaking in.’
‘That could be tricky,’ Marc agreed. ‘There’s a local train on platform one in about seven minutes. If we go to the end of the platform we can watch what happens when the train comes in.’
PT nodded in agreement and stood up. ‘If they are on alert they’ll be looking for two boys and a girl carrying a big gun. It’s better if Rosie stays here with the trolley. We’ll work out the best way to get on platform three and come back before the London train comes in. OK, Rosie?’
The boys moved swiftly down the narrow access road that led to the level crossing and the scrapyard. The ground was unfinished and heavy vehicles had churned the surface into mud. But they found a dry spot, standing on a rotting railway sleeper behind tangled weeds that gave them a good view along the platforms.
When the local service to Manchester steamed in, they watched the engine driver step out of his small black locomotive on to a platform less than ten metres away. Also on the platform were two porters, a stationmaster and the train guard.
As the locomotive’s huge steel wheels squealed against the track and began hauling the carriages, two young workmen sprinted on to the platform. They grabbed a door handle and jumped aboard, despite frantic whistles from the platform attendants.
PT looked at Marc as the train passed. ‘There’s too many staff on the platform when the train comes in. Our best bet is to get over there now. I’ll hide behind the waiting room with the trolley and put it in the guard’s van when the train arrives. You and Rosie can move along the platform and get in different carriages, so that nobody sees the three of us travelling together.’
Marc nodded in agreement. ‘Nine twenty-nine,’ he said. ‘That gives us ten minutes.’
It was a pig of a job getting the trolley down the muddy lane. Rosie had to strip off the bags that were designed to disguise the gun’s shape because it kept overbalancing. After the mud they had to push the trolley over the rails and the only way to do it was for Rosie to hold the gun steady on the trolley and run alongside as PT used all his strength to charge through.
A couple of people at the end of platform two watched the performance, but with the yard a few hundred metres down the lane, they just thought that the kids were trying to make a few bob selling scrap.
When they reached the ramp at the end of the island platforms, the level-crossing bell started to chime. In peacetime there would have been flashing lights too, but the bulbs had been removed as part of the blackout.
‘Who’s got the other sack?’ Marc asked.
Rosie raised an eyebrow and spoke with complete certainty. ‘There isn’t another sack.’
‘There bloody well is,’ PT said, as he realised Marc was right. ‘The heavy one with the magazine and the gun sight inside.’
‘When did we last see it?’ Marc asked, as he glanced anxiously down the tracks to see if the train was in view. ‘We had it at Piccadilly station. Please tell me we didn’t leave it in the taxi.’
PT shook his