Encounter

A gentle waft of ladies perfume accompanied the rattling of the first class carriage door opening. It was neither offensive nor sufficiently pleasant enough to make Adrian look up from his paper.
The train picked up speed as it left the station and headed off, chasing the dipping sun. The new arrival in the compartment stumbled over the long legs of the youth sat just inside the door and dived for the safety of the empty seats opposite the business suited Adrian.
The youth had been listening to a personal stereo when he had entered and, sitting on the same side as Adrian, had dumped a tatty nap-sack on the spare seat between them. There had been no conversation, the only sound that passed between the two of them being an annoying tinny rattling that came from under the youths shoulder length, greasy hair. Adrian had looked disdainfully at him, deciding that the lad either had no ticket at all or that he was a student and that his parents must have paid for the seat he now occupied. Muttering something about the state of University students today, he had turned the page of his paper and held it up firmly in front of himself, ensuring that the privacy enjoyed thus far on his journey would continue.

The woman who had entered, briefly spoke as she regained her composure in the seat opposite.
“It’s such a scramble getting on to a train these days! No porter to help you with your cases! And no one to see you to your seat. It’s disgraceful!” She said to no one inparticular.
Adrian did not look up from his reading, but deemed to make a sort of grunt which he hoped sounded suitably interested without encouraging her to further communication.
Once again the compartment fell quiet, the youth still lost in the little world created by his music, the woman nervously rummaging in her handbag, clicking her compact open. From behind his paper barricade he could hear her fussing about with make-up, tissues and perfume. Finishing the article he was reading, Adrian lowered the paper slightly and took a look around.

The youth lounged in the corner, lent against the green blind pulled down in the window, to hide them from those walking along the corridor, his feet clad in dirty, wholly trainers, thrown on the seat opposite him. Eyes closed, fingers tapping to the music on an open can of Carlsberg. Adrian’s glance took in the nap-sack on the seat between them which was covered in stickers and badges. The sack appeared to be almost empty except for an unusual shaped bulge which was crowned by a sticker which Adrian absently read. “The number one cause of cancer is sleep!” How absurd he thought, and ignoring the rest of the slogans he turned to the window.

The late evening sunshine was struggling to stay above the horizon, splashing its golden colour against the sides of trees, posts and the occasionally glimpsed building or bridge. He noted how deep the shadow was that enclosed the remainder of an item lucky enough to be picked out by the tongues of fading light. A contrast destined only to last until darkness managed to consolidate its grip on time.
Adrian always contrived to sit with his back to the engine, enchanted by the paradox of the view out of the window. The countryside, town and village, all sped away from him, fleeing from his immediate view but slowing and gently slipping from sight once at a safe distance. And yet, the faster it ran from him the nearer he was to where he wanted to be.
As he looked out of the window from the still world of the carriage on to the moving one outside, hedges, cattle, road, farms, all lepped into view each coming as a surprise even though he was familiar with the route. The muffled thud of the ladies handbag landing on the floor, dragged his attention back to his immediate surroundings.
“It’s quite beautiful isn’t it?” The woman said, smiling across at him.
Adrian looked at her properly for the first time. She was not what he had expected from her earlier, outdated comments about porters and the like. He had listed her down in his file of stereo types as a late forties, early fifties, plump, middle class wife of a professional, with arms full of London shopping. Not pretty nor plain but certainly with a perm.
“The sunshine I mean. The way it hides the ugliness of some things in its pure light.” She explained.
What he was in fact face with was a much more pleasurable picture. He adjusted his estimation of her age down to thirty one or two. “plump!” he scolded himself, he was well out there. She appeared to have a great figure, slim yet not “stick like” as was now the fashion, and such shapely long legs. Most of which were on show; she sat with her legs crossed and her skirt had slid back down her thighs some considerable way. There were no wedding rings on her fingers which now tugged her hem back towards her knees! “She must of seen me looking” he thought. Her hair wasn’t permed either, it was long, wavy and a deep full chestnut red. The final mistake he had made was that there was no horde of shopping, only her handbag which now sat on the floor against her bare ankle and a brief case which rested at the back of the seat beside her.

She was smiling brilliantly at him. Waiting for a reply to her comments. He glanced once more out of the window, as if to remind himself of what had been the subject of her words and turning back was about to say how right she was, when the compartment door opened, and the moment was lost.
Filling the doorway was a tall middle aged man, dressed in the uniform of the rail company. His bright blue trousers were lonely without the matching jacket which would normally have obscured the view of the companies famous vivid orange waistcoat, worn so proudly by this employee.
“Your travel cards please?” He demanded.
Adrian suddenly wondered why these new companies insisted on changing the standard terms for new ones, everyone knew that guards were supposed to say, “Tickets please!”
He reached inside his jacket to retrieve his “Travel Card” and passed it to the official for inspection, noting that the woman was reaching for her briefcase and that the youth had not moved but was watching the guard with one lazily opened eye.
The guard passed back the card with a brief “Thank you.” And Adrian, having replaced it, again picked up his paper and retreated behind the days headlines.
He found an item purporting to have the real story behind the mysterious disappearance of Malcolm Braithwaite, business man and advisor to the Prime Minister. The said gentleman had vanished from his hotel room whilst on a business trip to china, leaving only a large vat of cold rice pudding, a whip, a small garden gnome and a nurses hat behind.
Adrian had become so engrossed in the alleged details of the sexual exploits of this public figure that the rest of the happenings in the compartment failed to make an impact on him.
That is, until a gun went off.

As the small cloud of smoke cleared Adrian, still with the report of the gun echoing in his ear, calmly took in the scene before him.
The woman opposite him was still smiling towards him. Was she, even now, expecting his reply? Her eyes were now wide open, and as he watched her, he saw the last flickerings of life in them disappear. A trickle of thick, dark, blood ran down the side of her head, pooled in the crease of her right ear, overflowing and continuing down to drop from her jaw.
As if to underline the finality of death, her head lolled forward, coming to rest on her now still chest.
Adrian unhurriedly looked away from the mess of bone and brain smeared across the headrest, which the woman’s last movement had revealed.
On the floor between the seats, feet through the open door into the corridor, lay the guard. His face crumpled, reddened and pressed firmly to the floor by a trainer clad foot.
The Guard was trying to speak, but Adrian was unable to make out what the man was saying, whether because of the man’s prone position and restricted movement or because his hearing had not yet returned to normal, he could not tell.
Kneeling on the guards’ back, one foot on the man’s head, and busily pulling his arms back to be secured in a pair of handcuffs, was the greasy haired youth now wearing a blue hat with the word Police emblazoned upon it.
The youth had his back towards Adrian and an automatic pistol was now visible tucked in to the belt that secured his jeans.

Crouched in the doorway of the compartment were two uniformed Policemen, both puffed up by the padding of their bullet proof vests and both pointing pistols clasped with two hands at the prone figure.
Another man, this one in ordinary clothes, balanced on the seat diagonally across from Adrian. Although armed, his weapon remained in it’s shoulder holster, obviously on display and easily accessible. As he watched, the man stood on the seat reached into his pocket and withdrew a strip of black tape which he passed to the youth. Having assured himself that the guards hands were tightly cuffed behind his back, the youth altered his position, swivelling around to kneel astride the man’s shoulders. He then pulled the back of the strip of tape and, lifting the Guards head by the hair with one hand, placed the tape firmly across the man’s mouth. Satisfied with his work, he stood up and backed out of the compartment and walked out of sight.

One of the uniformed officers holstered his gun and stepped into the gap between seat and Guard. He helped the man to his feet and led him out into the corridor where he was joined by the plain clothes man who had been stood on the seats. The three of them also disappeared from sight leaving a single uniformed officer behind, who now checked the blinds were pulled before closing the compartment door from the corridor, isolating Adrian in the tomb like silence, with only a corpse for company.

His gaze fell away from the closed door and he noticed that on the floor previously hidden by the Guards body was a pile of fifty ECU notes. Some were still in wads but many had been freed from their elastic bands and were now strewn across the floor or in mini drifts against the base of the seat opposite.
On the seat next to the woman her brief case was now open and tilted back to rest on it’s hinges, her right hand gripped in it’s jaws.
He checked the seat beside him for his newspaper, unsuccessfully, but found it on the floor.
He saw that it had fallen between his feet and that it lay in a crumpled pile, the uppermost page liberally dotted with blood splatters.
Aware that someone would want this for evidence, he carefully lifted the top couple of pages and slid the remainder of the paper out from underneath, then gently let them fall back into place.
The youth's napsack, also blood splattered, empty of any contents lay over the woman’s feet, which were now both on the floor, her legs no-longer crossed.
Relieved to find that the crossword was amongst the salvaged parts of the paper Adrian sat back in his seat, folded the sheets to make the thing thick enough to write upon and took a pen from his inside pocket.

The crossword was over half way complete when the door rattled open again and the uniformed Policeman beckoned to Adrian. Sighing, he carefully placed the paper on the seat and the pen back into his pocket before rising and following the constable.
In the corridor waited two men in white overalls, a trolley between them and as he left the compartment, they entered it.

The rest of the carriage appeared to be empty as they made their way along it, but at the very last compartment the man halted, opened the door and indicated with a jerk of his head that Adrian was to go in.
Sat in the middle seat on the right side of the compartment was a big man, the sort of chap that no-one would argue with. He was no older than forty five but his hair was already silvery grey. He wore a three piece suit with a narrow pin stripe, still had his beige trench coat on, but his hat lay on the seat to his left amid scattered papers.
He looked up as Adrian entered and waved an arm in the direction of the seats opposite.
“Take a seat Sir.”
Adrian sat without saying a word, content to let the stranger do all the talking . Which he did.
“My name is Detective Inspector Phipps.” He passed across his warrant Card for verification. Adrian noted that the Inspector worked for Special Branch and made a mental note of the man’s name and number for later use before handing back the card.
Phipps went on talking.
“It’s unfortunate that you had to witness such an unpleasant mishap and I’m sure that you are still a little shaken by what you have seen but obviously I do have to ask a couple of questions. Before I do though…”
Phipps picked up a sheaf of paper, glanced at them and then threw them back down, reached for another bundle and looked more closely at them before selecting several pages from the middle and passed them across.
“for reasons I am not able to explain to you, the events that took place in your compartment this evening will not become public knowledge. I must ask you to read through the papers I have given you and to sign the document at the spot indicated.”
Adrian stared at the man for a few seconds but Phipps had immediately picked up another file and, avoiding any eye contact, was busily reading to himself.
Adrian focused his attention on the document he had been given. He recognised it straight away. It was the Official secrets Act.
“Phipps?” Adrian said. “Do you have a pen?”
A cheap biro was dug out from under the mass of paper and passed to him, chewed end first. He took the pen trying not to think of the bacteria which surely must be thriving in those teeth marks. He quickly wrote down a London telephone number and the single word, “ENCOUNTER”, on the top of the first sheet. Then standing, he passed the papers and pen back to the puzzled looking Phipps.
“Call that number and quote that word and I’m sure the nice people there will be able to tell you all you need to know about me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a crossword to finish before we reach Bristol. Goodnight to you Inspector.” And with that Adrian left the compartment.

The ringing was loud in Phipps’ ear, his mobile phone working well for a change. An efficient woman’s voice came clearly to him as his call was answered.
“Century House Duty Desk”
Phipps was stunned for a few seconds while the shock of the announcement sank in and he barely managed to get the word “Encounter” out….