The Train Incident

Chance is summoned to Naples under mysterious circumstances. However, bored with recent downtime, he finds the opportunity to practice his craft on a long train ride.

 

I wasn't in a very chipper mood. In fact, I was fairly irritated. I was in Antwerp taking pleasure in some leave time that I had accrued. La Confrerie is quite active in that city and they keep a floor of flats in a nondescript building near the Bois de la Cambre. Don't bother looking for them. La Confrerie sold them for a nice profit a few years ago. I liked the city as a place to unwind.

 

I was enjoying the company of a local cleaning woman by the name of Anjelika when I heard a knock on the door. I wasn't so much concerned with who was behind the door as I was irritated at being woken at 5:45 a.m. local time. I had five more days of leave time and I was looking forward to decompressing after my last few assignments. I knew the knock didn't belong to someone who was going to tell me to enjoy my holiday.

 

Before I get too far into this little saga, I should probably reintroduce myself. My name is Chance Ransom. I am a professional Wingman. I recently severed my relationship with a secret society known as La Confrerie Fraternelle de Wingmen, or not so commonly referred to as La Confrerie – the Brotherhood. Because of this series of little stories, I can now join Salmon Rushdie as one of the most hunted authors on the planet.

 

But at the time I received the knock on the door in Antwerp, I wasn't hunted. I was in good graces. These were good times. I had been in la Confrerie for a few years. My reputation was building. While I didn't love every assignment, the venues were improving. When I opened the door, there was a messenger from la Confrerie. The messenger was not a Wingman. In fact, he would have no specific knowledge of la Confrerie. If he opened the dispatch, it would be of no intellectual value to him. Usually the messages were to call someone, meet them, et cetera. There was never a word written about la Confrerie. Period. Well, until I started recounting my tales.

 

I opened the envelope in front of the messenger. Neither he nor Anjelika could see as I read:

 

Meet me in Napoli by 700 hours tomorrow.

 

Italy. That's all I would get from the Frenchman. Edgar knew I was on leave, so it was important. If I left now, I could make it by Eurail. I could fly when I had to, but I have never been comfortable with it. Ironic, when you think about the name of my profession.

 

Anjelika was awake, lying in bed. I started getting dressed. I didn't have to pack much. I had never really unpacked. By 6:05 a.m., I was walking towards Central Station. I had told Anjelika to use the flat for the next three days. I knew it would get cleaned that way. When she asked where I was going, I told her I didn't know. It wasn't a lie if I meant it philosophically. In those days, I wondered where any of us in la Confrerie were going.

  

Don't get the wrong idea about Anjelika either. I liked her. She was one of the reasons that I came to Antwerp. But Wingmen don't fall in love. Well, the smart ones don't. Anjelika cared about me. I had told her that if she ever received a miniature black bud vase, that she shouldn't expect me to be back. She collected vases, so I chose that as a signal. It was in my final instructions at la Confrerie's headquarters in Marseilles. She cried when I told her that. I also hoped that her mom wouldn't send her one as a gift. That would be upsetting. It would also be bad if la Confrerie sent the wrong color vase.

 

I tore Edgar's message into halves and then quarters, then elevenths, then seventeenths. I'm not that great with fractions. I deposited the remnants in three separate trash containers along the way to the station. Probably as unnecessary as me purchasing a separate ticket for each leg of the journey, but you know: secret society and all of that.

 

There is no Antwerp to Napoli train route, so I purchased a ticket to Paris, where I would purchase a ticket to Rome, where I would purchase a ticket to Naples.

 

The bulk of the trip was from Paris to Rome. That would take about fourteen hours. The other legs were a few hours apiece. I was going to kill Edgar when I got to Naples. My tickets were always second class. I never traveled first class unless my assignment required it. People watch first class travelers. Everyone wants to know who can afford to pay top dollar for a nice seat and a meal that can only outshine a meal in second class.

 

The first leg of the trip was uneventful. I dozed lightly since I had been woken up so early. I paid cash for my ticket to Rome as I did whenever I was able. I selected what appeared from the outside to be a relatively empty car with a few compartments that I would not have to share, but it filled up quickly.

 

The first compartment was crowded and contained a baby. The second had three or four young women inside – German from appearance – all with angelic faces. It would be awkward to go in and sit with them. Their items were spread out and they had each taken a corner of the compartment. The third compartment was the one I had settled upon. It was a smoker with a couple of American GIs stowing their gear in the overhead storage racks. They were several years my junior, probably returning from leave. Probably a little bleary eyed with pounding headaches.

 

After shedding my coat and hat, I settled in across from them. They hardly gave me a glance, which is what I normally preferred, but this leg of the trip was going to take over half a day and I was wide awake. I'd always had a healthy respect for soldiers regardless of the colors that they wear, but these guys were from my own country. I pulled out a pack of Camels, pocketed a few and then offered them the pack.

 

They each drew one out. One of them attempted to return the pack to me, but I waved it away with a hand gesture. They nodded appreciation and lit up. I decided to join them. There was a dark-haired Private and a Corporal that appeared to be of Irish decent. They looked to be in their early 20's. After fifteen minutes of conversation about nothing, I told them that I was going to the dining car to get a cup of soup and asked if they wanted to come. More out of politeness at this point.

 

The dark-haired one shook his head, "There are some girls over in the next apartment. We're going to talk to them, but we can't think of how we're going to do it. Don't want to scare them."

 

I sat back down and drew another cigarette from my pocket. As I felt around for my lighter, the other soldier, named Jason, struck a match for me.

 

"Thanks. What were you guys thinking of doing?"

 

The dark-haired one's name was Rick. "No idea. Just walk over and say, 'Hey ladies, what's happening?'"

 

"Does that usually work?" I had to ask. We were never allowed to do anything like that.

 

"Not really," Rick admitted.

 

"How many are in that car?"

 

"Three, I think. Two young - about our age - and one older."

 

"I need you to be more specific."

 

Pat spoke up now, "They're all blonde. I think German. The two younger look like sisters. Nineteen or twenty. The older looks in her late 20's, a little sick…like she is PMSing or something. None of them have wedding rings, but they are all well dressed."

 

I was impressed with this kid. I thought for a moment as I took a drag. I crushed out the cigarette in the little fixed ashtray on the wall: "I think I might be able to help. Excuse me for a moment." With that I left the compartment. I pilfered a full bottle of schnapps from the hospitality car when no one was paying attention.

 

There was just no way that the three of us could crowd into their compartment, and that would have to be dealt with, but there was a bigger problem. The kid had confirmed something that I thought I had noticed when I passed the car. The older of the three was about 28 and appeared to be about five months pregnant. She could be a spoiler.

 

I tried to recall my training in Wingman Camp. There had been a whole section on pregnant women along with an ethics part. As targets they were strictly verboten. I briefed my new comrades on their end. They didn't need to know about my work.

 

On the way back to the car, I ran into an octogenarian conductor. How old do you have to be to retire here? For this to work, I had to gain his confidence as a co-conspirator. I offered him a little schnapps, but he declined. He also wasn't a smoker. Then I remembered something the Frenchman had told me that wasn't in any of the textbooks. 

 </DIV> class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"

All European officials are corrupt at the lower levels. If cigarettes and/or alcohol don't work, try some combination of chocolate, sardines, or ladies' nylons. It never fails.

 

I had thought he was putting me on, but he had assured me he wasn't. He had no idea why this continued to work 35 years after WWII and the end of rationing, but it still did. I figured it was worth a try, so I went back to my bag and swapped out the schnapps for my travel kit. Inside of that was a set of nylons, a tin of sardines, and a few chocolate bars. Rick was becoming impatient.

 

"Look, why don't we just try my thing."

 

As I was about to answer, Pat spoke up, "Shut up! I think I know where this is going." I doubted that he did.

 

I looked at them both and said, "Listen, I don't have a lot of time to explain. If the two of you want to get laid, you need to let me work." I think it was the force of my conviction that made both of their heads nod silently.

 

I found the conductor, who appeared annoyed this time around, "What is it that you want, Monsieur?"

 

"I need you to check the tickets of the occupants in compartment three. Three females. When the older one gives you her ticket, tell her that her's is a counterfeit. Bring her out and I will offer to pay her passage."

 

He was not happy, "Leave me at once or I will report you to the authorities. I want no part of your fraud."

 

I pulled out the two chocolate bars and began to open one. His features softened a bit.

 

"This appears to be delicious chocolate that you have. May I try some?"

 

"Of course, Monsieur." I broke off a morsel and gave it to him.

 

"I would help you, but my boss. An investigation could delay my retirement."

 

"Oh, I understand. Do you have any use for these?" I pulled the tin of sardines out of my pocket.

 

He eyed them greedily, "It is not as though you want to hurt the lady, but they frown on any abuse of my authority."

 

I knew what I had to do. I reached into the pocket and began to draw out the nylons very slowly. He looked at them as if they each had a woman's leg inside.

 

"Of course I can accommodate you, Monsieur. No questions asked if you prefer." This was really getting weird, but I didn't have time to think about that.

 

I went back to the boys and handed them the bottle of Schnapps with careful instructions as to their approach. I told them that the older woman would be removed from the car and asked to come up front. That was when they should go in. If the girls were concerned about their friend, the boys would assure them that their friend was in good hands and to have a drink to take their mind off of it. The rest was up to them.

 

I lingered in the hall having a smoke until I saw the conductor go into their compartment and emerge a few minutes later with a distressed pregnant woman. I gave a light knock to signal the GIs. I then followed at a distance to a car with a little office. When I caught up I heard the conductor yelling. He was overdoing it but I guess he really wanted those nylons. I hoped that he had a wife or something.

 

I walked up to him and said in my best French: "Pardon me, Monsieur. What seems to be the problem?"

 

"This woman tried to counterfeit her ticket."

 

"I purchased that ticket." She remained nonplussed.

 

I snatched the ticket from the conductor and threw it out a small vented window, "Listen, you minor-level functionary. I will pay her passage. Besides, what can you do with no evidence?" I took out a US hundred dollar bill and handed it to the conductor. Without waiting for change or a response, I turned to the pregnant blonde and said, "You must be exhausted from all of this. Let me buy you a cup of coffee."

 

"I will treat instead," she said in French with a heavy German accent.

 

I just smiled and said, "But of course," in her native tongue.

 

Coffee only killed about 20 minutes, and I was sure it hadn't been enough time. I had to stall. We had already broached the subject of her pregnancy and how she was destined to be a single mother. She finally asked me to walk her back to her compartment. She was concerned about the conductor harassing her again, "My friends will be worried about me."

 

I had to stall. I asked her if she wouldn't mind joining me at the rear car where we could sit outside while I had a smoke. This train had a little open area to the rear. Technically speaking it was for the crew's use, but I didn't think that the conductor would say anything at this point. What could she say? She felt that she was indebted to me.

 

We walked through three cars to the back. Once outside, I started to talk about my fictitious dreams. Get married, have several children, open a haberdashery…you know, the kind of thing that a single five-month pregnant woman would look for in a man. The real goal that I had in mind was to keep her from my new friends.

 

After a few minutes, the train was breaking for a short stop. Her forward momentum forced her into me. When she regained her balance, I didn't let her go. I looked her in the eyes and kissed her. I know that she didn't know why, but she responded.

 

Maybe it was the cold, or maybe the loneliness. Perhaps even the false hope that I had given her with all of my lies, but she wanted to kiss me.

 

My mind was on the mission and helping two American GIs attempting to score on a moving train near the Franco-Swiss border. La Confrerie forbade intermingling with pregnant women on moral grounds, but if I was going to be great, I knew I had to break a few rules on occasion.

 

I whispered to her that we should find an empty compartment. I believed that mine would be occupied by one of the two young couples. Without speaking, she took my hand and led the way. As I entered the train, I thought about how I could no longer tell Anjelika that I didn't know where I was going...philosophically or otherwise. The answer was becoming increasingly obvious. So I tried not to let my barbed tail get caught in the door as I re-entered the train.

 

http://www.myspace.com/chanceransom

 

 

Author's Note

Inspired by "The Metro" by Berlin. I prefer the acoustic version.

Reviews

[Angel's Lady]

I also hoped that her mom wouldn't send her one as a gift. That would be upsetting. -- ROFL!

I tore Edgar's message into halves and then quarters, then elevenths, then seventeenths. I'm not that great with fractions. -- Still ROFL!

"Of course I can accommodate you, Monsieur. No questions asked if you prefer." This was really getting weird, but I didn't have time to think about that. -- Am I supposed to be laughing my a*s off? I have no wish to offend you, dear Michael, but this is the funniest thing I have read in I don't know how long!

Please, please, if there is another chapter after this, please DO send me a READ REQUEST! I love this!

[ShadowWolf]

Your style of writing reminds me of the old detective stories of the forties and early fifties which I always have enjoyed. A very enjoyable story with alot of little clues....Bravo! Thank you Angel's Lady!

[Dawnkain]

Yes jam packed with info! wow. really hate those books that drag on. Thanx for adding to the world of super cool plots, yet again!

[Tamme]

I like the wingman stories and I tried really hard to find something to bash... I just can't. I like the action with little light comedy. And while I think I should feel the occupation of "wingman" should be morally objectionable, you make it sound as very respectable profession. I look forward to reading more.

[Yvonne Heidt]

Michael, I completely agree with Holly. This character is REAL in my mind. Excellent Narration and snappy dialog moves the reader effortlessly through another great installment of Chance Ransom's adventures as a Wingman. I love this series.

I loved this part in the opening paragraph
"Don't bother looking for them. La Confrerie sold them for a nice profit a few years ago."

I don't have anything to bash at all.

[Holly Marsh]

I think I see a Bruce Willis character in the movie franchise of Chance Ransom. No? Then maybe someone else. I thoroughly enjoy Chance Ransom's stories--you have created a fantastic character. Your narrative is action-packed, even when no one is getting any (haha!).

[None]

No bashing today for Chance Ransom. I thoroughly enjoyed this story. I have a better understanding for the "wingman" theory and why it's performed. An amazing, interesting story. I could see your tale as a movie series.