Property of a Lady Faire: A Secret Histories Novel by Simon R. Green

Author:Simon R. Green
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780451414311
Publisher: Roc Hardcover
Published: 2014-06-03T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Murders on the

Trans-Siberian Express

The Doormouse’s Door dropped us off in a long wooden carriage, full of crates and boxes, suitcases and other luggage, and lots of shadows and shifting light. Molly and I had to cling to each other as the speeding carriage lurched back and forth, throwing us this way and that. The air was thick with dust and the smell of unvarnished wood, and freezing cold. I looked back at the Door, but it was already gone, as though to make sure we couldn’t change our minds.

“Well,” I said, as lightly as I could manage, “welcome to what appears to be the baggage compartment of the renowned Trans-Siberian Express.”

Molly laughed and clung to my jacket lapels with both hands so she could grin right into my face. “You just faced down the Detective Inspectre, Eddie! I am so proud of you! But if you ever scare me like that again, I will slap your head right off. What do you mean, baggage compartment?”

“I have never known anyone who could change direction so often, and so fast, in the same conversation,” I said. “So, in order, thank you, understood, and take a look around.”

We finally got our balance and let go of each other, so we could properly investigate our new surroundings. We’d arrived in a narrow railway carriage, constructed almost entirely from wooden slats, an unpolished wooden floor thickly covered in sawdust, and a rough, curving wooden ceiling. Two bare bulbs swung in the gloom overhead, unlit, but bright light punched through slits and holes in the carriage walls, filling the long open space with great blasts of flaring light, more than enough to push back the constantly shifting shadows. Crates and boxes and expensive leather luggage were piled up everywhere, and crammed tightly into shelves that ran the whole length of the carriage. Much of it had the look of expensive designer brands, while the carriage itself was deliberately old-fashioned. A blast from the past, in the service of tradition and nostalgia.

Molly staggered up and down the rattling carriage, looking closely at anything that seemed expensive or interesting and getting into everything. She didn’t seem particularly impressed by our new surroundings. I said as much.

“You don’t seem too impressed by our new surroundings, Molly.”

“Oh, come on!” she said, not even glancing back at me. “It’s a dump! Whoever put this place together had never even heard of style or comfort, except as something other people did. Look at all this unfinished wood, I’ll get splinters, I know I will.”

“It’s traditional,” I said. “It’s supposed to be . . . basic. The whole journey is a throwback to the grand old days of steam travel. This kind of in-depth historical re-creation is very popular these days. And extremely expensive. It costs a lot of money to look as authentically crap as this. I’m sure the passenger carriages are much more stylish, and comfortable. In a determinedly old-fashioned way, of course. Steam trains are considered very romantic, mostly by people who’ve never actually travelled on one.

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