Night Train to Murder by Simon R. Green

Author:Simon R. Green
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448303625
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2019-09-10T16:00:00+00:00

FIVE

Trapped in the Pressure Cooker

I went back to my seat by the door, carefully ignoring Brian, sat down and stared at nothing. Penny sat beside me, not saying anything, allowing me to concentrate. Further down the carriage, I could see Rupert and Howard and Sita sitting in their separate seats, not even glancing at each other, all of them lost in their own thoughts.

It was quiet in the First-Class compartment. A very strained quiet, that no one wanted to break. The train sped on towards Bath, and there was nothing outside the windows but the night. I sat still, frowning hard, trying to find some new way to attack a problem that refused to be solved. I had to be missing something, but I was damned if I could see what.

I studied the three passengers carefully, taking my time. None of them struck me as a killer, let alone the professional assassin I’d been warned about. But none of that mattered, because none of them could possibly have done it. They were all sitting in their seats, right in front of me, while Sir Dennis was being killed. They couldn’t have got past me.

Sir Dennis had been a real pain in the arse while he was alive, and being murdered hadn’t changed that one bit.

There was always the chance that someone was messing with my head. Which meant I had to re-examine the possibility of a hidden psychic assassin. The evidence – what there was of it – seemed to be forcing me in that direction. But I hadn’t observed any of the usual psychic fallout, the odd events and strange coincidences that should have accompanied a psychic exercising his powers. And I was still certain I would know he was there, no matter how well he hid himself.

Because no psychic had ever been able to hide himself from me.

But I’d never come up against a really powerful rogue. I looked slowly around the compartment, taking in the apparently empty seats. Could the killer really be sitting there, hiding behind the power of his monstrous mind, watching me flounder about and get nowhere … and smiling? And if so, was there any way I could force or trick him into revealing himself? I thought about that for a while … And a cold hand clutched at my heart as I suddenly realized there was one way. One simple, direct and extremely dangerous way.

All I had to do was lower the defensive routines operating in the back of my mind, and leave my thoughts open for the rogue psychic to read. He had to be feeling frustrated at not being able to read my mind. He shouldn’t be able to resist taking a look. If nothing else, he must want to know whether or not I suspected his presence. So if I left my mind wide open, and let him in, and he saw the truth of who and what I really was, the shock of finding out I wasn’t actually

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