III THE LONG VERSION
Thursday 21st February 1923
Svilengrad Station
Arrival 03.20 a.m. Due to depart 04.35 a.m. A relatively long stop at Svilengrad. Having watched Father Mika enter the station’s telegrapher’s office, Pierre and Percy alight from the train to follow him. Mika though cannot be found. If he was despatching a telegram he must have been quick. A report to his masters in the Vatican no doubt. But where has the old fool gone? Unbeknownst to them, Mika, his job done, had already slipped back on board the Express with his next job in mind—to get some sleep.
Fourgon Carriages
Wondering where the Simulacrum might be stored, Letty is intent on accessing the secure baggage cars—the fourgon carriages. The current configuration of the Orient Express includes no less than three fourgon carriages. One is currently open to the platform, the other two are sealed. Station porters are in the act of ferrying light cargo on platform trolleys to and from the open carriage under the direction of two guards. The other two cars remain closed, their cargo doors firmly secured with padlocks.
Fourgon Conclusion
Letty’s partner-in-crime, Nicholas Cartwright, hatches a plan to get into the open fourgon. He purloins a porter’s uniform from a staff-only side-room, pulls the hat firmly down over his face to conceal his eyepatch and takes charge of a trolley and package which he pushes confidently over the little ramp that bridges the gap between platform and carriage door. The two attendant guards wave him aboard. The carriage was filled with neatly-stacked packages but nothing the size and shape that would give suspicion to being our prize. Cartwright’s request of the guards for the key to the next fourgon was it seems as step too far. The guards' stances changed to look suddenly important and menacing. They don’t take requests or orders from piss-ant station porters. Cartwright, now noticing the telltale bulges of revolvers in concealed holsters beneath the guards’ jackets, decided not to push his luck any further and exits the carriage.
All Aboard!
Cartwright confides in Letty. Fourgon carriage number 3 is a bum steer. They still need to access the other two cars. Between them they manage a surreptitious mission to pick the padlock to car number 2 without being seen, but there’s no time to enter the car. The locomotive begins to whoosh steam and whistle, guards call out for all passengers to be aboard the Express. Cartwright has no time to change out of his disguise. He and Letty hurry to board the Calais Coach. As the train pulls out, Cartwright realises he’s wearing his porter’s hat and is left to rue the loss of his top hat. It’s where he left it, concealed in a locker in the station staff changing room.
The Progeny of Fenalik?
Next stop is just twenty-five minutes away at Dmitrovgrad. Due in at 5.0 a.m. for a quick halt, will there be enough time for Letty and Cartwright to capitalise on that opened padlock and get inside foregone number 2? Cartwright looks out of his window and stares in wonder at a pack of large grey wolves, loping along besides the train. The wolves are unnatural. Huge beasts with a glint of red in their eyes. Cartwright blinks. The wolves are still there. Keeping pace. He’s seen those eyes before. His mind races back to the glinting red eyes in the darkness of the Sredna Gora caves beyond Chukurova village. If the wolves keep up the chase then perhaps attempting to exit the train at Dmitrovgrad is not the best plan. Better wait until Sofia. Cartwright consulted the train’s timetable; due in at Sofia at 11.15 this morning. Plenty of time to get some much-needed sleep.
Breakfast Pierre?
Ludwig nudges Pierre. ‘Wake up mein freund. Have you been sleeping here all night?’
Pierre adjusted to his surroundings then realised he’d fallen asleep on the little couch in the salon car. ‘Better than sleeping in that blood-stained murder hole of a compartment.’
‘Ha.’ Ludwig gave Pierre a friendly slap on the back, which caused the Parisian to wince due to the sudden pressure on his ever-worsening bodily lesions. ‘Understandable. Let’s get to breakfast.’
‘You look different somehow, Ludwig.’
Ludwig ignored the comment. He was bust wiping sticky mucus from his fingers. The offending ooze seemed to have coated his hand when he gave Pierre a playful slap.
Degradations
Around the breakfast table everyone looked terrible. The degradations of the Simulacrum were taking greater hold on its former possessors. They were drawing looks of disgust from their fellow passengers.
•Ludwig’s skin, still marked by a red rash, seemed to droop, he had distinct jowls and loose skin on his arms.
•Letty’s veins seemed more prominent, dark and twisted—like the varicose veins of someone more than twice her years.
•Banks, having suffered the loss of his hair, was now sweating profusely. Like a fat kid during a missing cream cake investigation.
•Cartwright stank like a cess-pit, in direct competition with Pierre for most rancid man of the year.
•Percy’s sub-dermal affliction had come to the surface, not just at his stomach but all over. Worm-like creatures poked at the very surface of his skin—like an infestation of botfly larvae.
•Father Mika’s prolific perspirations had now turned to something more sinister. He was literally seating blood.
•Pierre, who was still stinking the place up, was now oozing bile from every orifice of his body.
Musings
Time to think out loud.
(i) Did an enemy board the train at Svilengrad?
(ii) If Makryat was able to impersonate Emile by wearing his skin, then the Emile we knew from the moment we boarded the train was probably Makryat in disguise all along. So whose body did Helmut witness being dumped from the train? Not Emile, he’s been dead since before we left Cirkeci Station. Surely the body is that of a new victim, skinned by the Mims Sahis, whose identity has been usurped by Makryat? But who?
(iii) Worryingly, as Emile/Makryat has been the custodian of the passports of all the passengers of the Calais Coach, he has had ample opportunity to learn a lot of our personal details.
(iv) Why does Makryat not suffer the degradations of the Simulacrum? Didn’t he say something about the Ritual of Cleansing? How and where do we get hold of that to save ourselves from further deterioration?
Observations
Is Makryat wearing the skin of one of our fellow passengers? We look around the breakfast car and try to discern any differences in people’s demeanours. Lord Margrave is sharing his breakfast table with La Dona del Garda, whom we don’t recall sitting together before. They’re having an argument but trying to keep it low, so no-one will notice. Rama Ho-Tet is breakfasting alone, and speaking with no-one. No change there. Kurt Kroenig is heartily tucking away a breakfast of pastries without a care in the world. The Count and Countess sit together without exchanging conversation, eating with quiet reserve. Nobody suddenly looks any different than they did yesterday. Elena hasn’t risen yet, probably picked in alcohol from drinking with Letty. We haven’t seen either of Danton Szorbic or Sir Robert outside of their compartments yet this morning, nor that annoying American, Jack Gatling. No-one has questioned the whereabouts of Emile or Martinelli. Martinelli’s absence can be explained away: he got off at Svilengrad (that’s our story) and we’re not accountable to the Chef de Train for the behaviour or disappearing act of his conductor. That’s his problem. We need to remain vigilant. We need a plan to smoke our adversary out.
Sofia
At 11.15 am. Exactly on time. The Express comes to a stop at Sofia Central Station. The pursuing wolves had been left behind several miles back. Letty and Cartwright planned to have another crack at the second fourgon car. Cartwright asked Ludwig to hand over two small stopped bottles of chloroform. Then, wearing his porter’s disguise once more, he took the bottles and got off the train. Having only just pulled in, the platform bustled with life. Cartwright would have to pick his moment. With a stop scheduled for thirty five minutes he could afford to wait. There was plenty of time first to head for the station restroom for a shit. Letty and Banks alighted from the Express. Pierre watched them from the train window as they entered the station’s little café and shop. His attention soon shifted to a couple of suspicious looking men, striding purposefully along the platform; bumping people out of their way. They were headed straight towards the toilets. Pierre was worried that Cartwright had attracted trouble.
