He jangled the handcuff against the rail, waving his one hand. “You think so, do you?”
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, firmly. “But please understand, we’re trying to catch a serial murderer. Three people have died, and we’re running out of time. The killer is on this train, right now.”
John interjected, “And you’re speaking to him right now.”
“Maybe so,” Adele continued, picking up speed. “But if you maintain your innocence,” she addressed the reserve conductor, “then I need your help with something.”
“My help?” he asked, somehow conveying a snort in the two short words.
“Yes. The deaths, they occurred on the three trains you’ve been on. All of them in a different country.”
“And?”
“And,” she pressed, “is there anything else we might be missing about the location? We’ve already had a death in Germany… But… But I can’t shake the notion that the killer might strike again.” She frowned, shaking her head. Then, more to herself than anyone, she murmured, “We’ve been operating under the assumption the killer is attacking one per country, and once per day… but what if we were wrong about that?” She looked at Mr. Johnson. “Is there anything else you might have seen? You were on the first two trains. You’re on this one.”
“I told you already,” he snapped. “I didn’t even know someone had died.”
“Ridiculous,” John said. “Adele, come on now. He’s playing you. Don’t listen to him.”
The conductor seemed caught between his anger with John and the lifeline Adele had just tossed him. It took him a moment to consider, but then he said, “When?”
“Excuse me?” Adele asked.
“When did the victim die?”
“The woman—Margaret,” said John. “She had a name, you know.”
“Most of us do,” the conductor retorted. “When did she die?”
Adele said, “About four hours ago. Is that relevant?”
“Four hours? Just after we crossed into West Germany? In the Black Forest, yes?”
Adele hesitated. “I think so, yes.”
The conductor shrugged. “Well, there you have it. Another switch.”
“Excuse me?”
“A switch,” he said. “A rail shift. The first two deaths occurred right before or right after a switch in the tracks.”
Adele stared, feeling her lips go suddenly numb. For a moment, she felt a prickle along her back, and she swallowed. “A switch? You’re sure?”
“I noticed it with the first two heart attacks. Didn’t know they were murders. Some of the wait staff thought the switches were cursed.” He shrugged. “We all noticed, though. It’s at the switches these people are dying.”
Adele looked off out the window. She could see buildings now, see streets and alleys as they pulled closer to the train station. Soon, the killer would be able to slip away. Without a controlled environment, his escape seemed imminent. But this new theory… the switches? Could that be it? Was the killer somehow connected to the track changes?
“The next switch,” Adele said, suddenly. “When is it?”
Mr. Johnson paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he examined her. Then his gaze flitted down to the water bottle she’d given him. He looked determinedly away from John, as if intent on ignoring the Frenchman. And, with a sigh, the reserve conductor said, “Just past this station, actually. We’re rolling up on one right now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Adele could feel the train chugging along beneath her, but with it came a rising sense of anxiety to match. She turned to John, her mouth numb with the words cajoled from her lips. “I… I don’t think it’s him.”
John rolled his eyes. “Adele, come on,” he insisted. “Of course it is. Look at him. He was on all three trains. He attacked me. He has the toxin.”
“You attacked me, and it’s insulin!” Johnson called.
“I don’t think it’s him,” Adele repeated, in a whisper. “And I might be wrong, but if I’m right about him, then the killer is going to strike again, very soon.”
“You’re buying this crap about the switches?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Not coming from him, it doesn’t,” John said, jutting his chin.
“John,” Adele said softly. “I know we haven’t seen eye to eye lately… But can you trust me on this one? I’ve been right before.”
At these words, John hesitated. His expression seemed set in stone, but as she held his gaze, a light almost seemed to flicker behind his eyes, and his countenance morphed, slowly, and his eyes softened. He gave a half nod and muttered, “On your head be it…”
“Fine. I’ll take all the blame. Just, please, this once…trust me.”
John hesitated, but then his shoulders sagged. He shrugged. “You’ve been right before. If I can’t convince you, then fine. So what do we do? We’re already pulling in.”
Leoni looked up from where he’d collapsed on his ankle. “I can look after the conductor,” he said, wincing. “If Adele’s right…”
The two DGSI agents looked at the Italian and nodded slowly.
John, though, if only to underscore his point, gestured out the window. Adele could even hear the screech of the train against the tracks as it began to come to a full stop. Out of time. Any moment now, the killer would make good his getaway. She had to make a call—they didn’t have time to search the train again. No time to look through all the cars.
A final shot in the dark—she had to pick a target.
“First class,” she murmured. “He’ll be near the victims. He’s killed three wealthy folk already—he’ll do it again. And we’re nearing the switch,” she said and glanced toward Mr. Johnson. “If what he says is correct… First class,” Adele said at last. “We have to go, come.”
She turned and began moving away from the body beneath the tarp, and the reserve conductor chained to the rail. John, for his part, didn’t seem so reluctant anymore. It wasn’t that he liked being bossed around. Adele knew, however, that if there was one thing she could rely on John for, it was that he would have her back. No matter what. Even if he disagreed. For all his sharp edges and unconventional methods, he was loyal to the end.
She could feel him moving next to her now, striding toward the glass partition that led to first class.
Just then, all of a sudden, everything went black for a moment. Adele fell still, stunned. A brief passing thought suggested she’d fallen unconscious. But she could still feel the train shaking beneath her, and could even hear John’s breathing at her side. A second passed, then another, and then the train emerged from the darkness, light streaking the windows at her side once more.
“What was that?” Adele said, frowning.
“A weather sheath,” said the conductor. “It’s a tunnel. There’s going to be another one before you finally come to a—”