Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)

Subject: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Peter T.
Date: 06 May 01 - 08:08 PM

Apart from a minor derailment, the Mudcat Orient Express continues down this line. The Express (taking a Northern Route) is bound for Istanbul, via Vienna, Budapest, Bucharest. It is imminently expected in Vienna, where, after a short delay, it will go on to Budapest. From a variety of hints, we appear to be in the first week of October 1938. Among the swarms of oddities aboard the Express, there is at least one dead body, that of Paul Villeneuve, who, at the time of his death, was carrying in a violin case that now appears to have travelled more than he has, what appeared to be important papers relating to recent developments in what is not yet referred to in the literature as "nuclear fission" (this appears in the landmark paper of January 1939 by Lise Meitner and her nephew Otto Frisch following their critical Christmastime walk in the snow, which now appears to have been anticipated by some months by, among others, Annette Marceau, also on the train). Many other suspects on (and off) the train abound, from a disguised Annie Oakley descendant to a number of detectives apparently on their way to the 1st International Agatha Christie Conference. All aboard....

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Bert
Date: 06 May 01 - 11:55 PM

She was coming down that track making 90 miles an hour
and the whistle broke into a scream...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: katlaughing
Date: 07 May 01 - 12:10 AM

Criminee! What the hel...oh, jeez, wake up! James, Artie! The train is coming, we've got to get ready to jump!, Miss Penny Waistcoat hurriedly pulled on her boots and shook her companions.

Oooo, my head! Damn, should've know better than to outdrink those two! She did smile at the thought of her and Jim, after Artie passed out...it had been a long while since they'd last proven their troth* to one another. (*Passionately embraced and other things...use your imagination!)

As they scrambled up the ladder and out onto the narrow walkway which surrounded the water tower, they saw the train trudging up the incline. Penny threw one leg over the railing, then the other, holding on with one hand and got ready to jump. James and Artie followed her lead, still a bit groggy.

The locomotive passed by, then the passenger cars, until the baggage car came into view. With a 1 - 2 - 3, they jumped, landing on the roof with soft thuds. Crouching down they grabbed hold of the top edge. James slung over the side, pasted some small bit of explosive to the side of the car, then quickly scrabbled back to the top. They heard a small pop and saw a small poof of smoke, just as they each went back over the side and entered the baggage car through the neatly blown hole.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Naemanson
Date: 07 May 01 - 06:10 AM

He had just torn out the lining of the coat when there was a small explosion that filled the car with smoke. Startled, Honore froze in place. Three people swung into the car through the resultant hole. Honore scuttled back deeper into his hiding hole and drew his pistol. He wanted nothing to do with people who so casually used explosives but he wanted to be sure he protected himself if he had to.

The smoke made it difficult to see what they were doing. He listened to them moving about. In his hand were the papers he had taken from the lining of Paul's coat. He stuffed them into his pocket. He had had time to see several complicated mathematic calculations and the name "Lise Meitner" before the explosion. This, more than the death of his friend and the hiding of his friend's body, convinced Honore that Paul was indeed some kind of spy.

"This must be why everyone on de train is all fusticated." he thought, "All dose people chasin' aftah each udder. An' dis is wut dey want! I wonder wut I should do wit it now?""

And he watched and waited...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Matt_R
Date: 07 May 01 - 08:27 AM

At that precise moment, a small boy in Budapest named Yevgeny placed a single 5 forint piece on the track. He hummed something about "flatcar riders and cross-tie walkers" as he skipped down the tracks, in a quaint, rustic Eastern European manner.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 07 May 01 - 12:03 PM

Napoleon and Father Vasiliy sat down at the bar. "Cognac for me. Yourself?" said Napoleon to the priest.

"Vodka. Neat."

The bartender scowled at the priest. "I belieff you owe me twenty francs, Monsieur le Priest," he growled.

"All a misunderstanding!" interjected Napoleon rapidly. "Here!" he said, flinging a fifty franc bill to the bartender. "On behalf of my friend I pay you back with interest."

"Ziss ees more like eet!" said the bartender with renewed interest (and accent).

"Can you help us, perhaps, solve a little mystery, Marcel?" asked Napoleon.

Through this all, Father Popovich sat with his back to the bar, staring out over the club car. His vodka sat untouched.

"Mais oui" (*oh boy, if it means more money for nothing, I would be glad to), said the bartender.

"Good. Did you see anything unusual happen while the orchestra was playing? Anybody take something out of a violin case, perhaps, that you normally wouldn't find in a violin case?"

"Nozzing comes to mind," said the bartender airily.

"Sometimes the memory can benefit from a little --shall we say, incentive?" said Napoleon, pulling another fifty franc bill from his billfold and placing it flat on the bar.

"Come to zink off eet, le monsieur violineest and conducteur of ze orchestra deed pool an envelope out of a violin case, and place it in his music stand," said the bartender, placing his flattened palm on the bill and drawing it slowly towards himself. "Zat seemed rahzzer unusuelle, so I watched heem for ze rest of ze parformance. I believe ze envelope ees steel in ze music, wheech went eento a.... um.... my memory is running out of ze ahncahnteef, I am zinking."

"But of course," said Napoleon, drawing out another fifty-franc bill and handing it directly to the bartender. "Of course if you are leading us astray, there will be -- shall we say -- consequences?"

"Mais non!" (*holy shit!) "I am telleeng only ze truth! Ze musique, eet went eento a seen trahnk, and was taken to ze baggage carr."

"A seen trahnk?"

"You know, not seek, but seen."

"Thin?"

"Vraiment!" (*you obviously pronounce English better than I do, and you have hit the nail on the proverbial head.)

"Thank you, Marcel. Father Basil, it's back to the baggage car for us."

"Hmm?" said the priest, who had fallen asleep.

"Father Basil!"

"Da?" (*That's my name, don't wear it out.)

"To the baggage car!"

"Right behind you, M. Inspecteur."

"Oh, for the drinks," said Napoleon, flinging a twenty-franc bill at the bartender. "We'll be back, you know."

"Ah wouldn't be zo zure," said the bartender under his breath.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Peter T.
Date: 07 May 01 - 12:12 PM

The leaves were floating down over the graves, and Professor Yamada wrestled with his death poem. He shook his gray head, for the syllables would not come. He reached down and opened his suitcase, which revealed an antique samurai sword. He pulled the sword out, looked around to make sure that no one was watching except the ghosts of the dead, fluttering down through the Vienna Woods, said a prayer, and pulled the sword out of it scabbard. The late afternoon sun gleamed along the edge, and he toyed with the idea of a line about the sun setting behind the round earth, quite unlike how the sun would set behind an earth with an edge to it. An edge of failure and suffering. The beaten edge of discipline and clarity and defeat. It was strange to die so far away from his homeland, though the falling leaves were a comfort to him. It had been a strange, long trip, and though he had had the extraordinary luck to be able to spend an afternoon with the esteemed Professor Heidegger where they had exchanged issues of Being and emptiness, he had failed in his mission to obtain the secret files from Villeneuve, and there was no alternative now. He sighed, and settled himself on his haunches, emptying himself before emptying himself. He held the sword in the ritual poise of preparation, and made the first cut.

It was interrupted with a clang. Another sword was interposed, and he was hit on the side of the head and knocked over.

"Fool," said the blackgowned apparition. "Fool. There will be lots of time to die. I guarantee it."

Professor Yamada grovelled in the leaves, that smelled so sweet, and smelled of death. Would we fear death so much, he thought, if it always smelled like the fallen leaves in autumn?

The blackgowned figure sat down on the spot, fondling Yamada's sword. "Yamada. Calm yourself. You mishandled the first round, but there is more to come, including death."

Yamada rose to a modified crouch. "What can I do to make up for my errors, Sensei?"

The shaven headed figure did not smile. He was a Westerner, but spoke perfect Japanese. It was most disconcerting. Especially the hard eyes. "Your most shameful error was in letting the French woman intercept and spoil all our earlier work. What was the use of putting you into the laboratory as a junior assistant so long ago, if you were unable to carry out the Emperor's wishes to the letter?"

"Oh, Sensei, I am stricken. Please hand me the sword."

"Carve yourself up later. You know what you have to do."

"Yes, Sensei. She will be dead before the train leaves Budapest."

"You know, Yamada, I don't understand you. You were the greatest fighting man in Japan; you were our great weapon."

Yamada bowed, and the smell of death came again into his nostrils. "Sensei, she is a flower that blooms once an aeon. I was weak." Actually, he had been pretty strong, he remembered with inappropriate pride, may the Gods curse her.

"Good," said the hard-eyed monk, "then, after you kill her we won't have to worry about her for another aeon."

"But, Sensei, what of Curioso?"

The monk smiled, for the first time. "He is mine." And in one unseen motion he cut deftly through a leaf descending, which fell like a separated butterfly on the ground. "He is mine."

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 07 May 01 - 02:05 PM

Pierre Estrelle, 2nd chair violinist in the Paris Symphony, lay in the curtained berth next to the young Austrian girl. She was quite beautiful, but her snoring had been keeping him awake for some time. In his mind, accompanied by the rhythm of the steady metronome clack of cars on track, the second movement of the Debussy piece was playing once again. The entry of the strings against the swelling brass was a moment of precise elation in the movement, and yet the performance earlier that day had lacked the proper dynamic. Estrelle was almost certain that the strings were coming in a half-beat early, the fault of the first chair violinist. He needed a copy of the score to make sure of his argument before approaching Dreyfus, the cantankerous, baton-wielding egotist who led the symphony.

Estrelle entered the baggage car, averting his eyes from the plywood packing crate that held the body of the dead scientist and forty pounds of chipped ice. An involuntary chill ran up his back as he trod in the puddle that was forming on the floor around the box. He found the stacked boxes of scores, opening the first one he came to and removing the copy. On the way to his berth, Estrelle stopped in the Club Car for an espresso and a croissant. He noticed the tall priest and the short detective leave the bar and move toward the baggage car. Estrelle also noticed an attractive, apparently unattached, woman seated by herself but she avoided his warm glances. Finishing his coffee, Estrelle picked up the score and decided to visit the toilet before returning to his berth.

He sat down, and began to leaf through the pages, looking for the passage that concerned him. As he did so, an envelope suddenly fell out of the pages onto the floor. He picked it up and read the title. Curious, he began to scan the text, but found it incomprehensible. He moved to the washstand and placed the score and the mysterious envelope on the counter. Looking in the mirror, he thought he noticed a blemish arising on his chin, and he carefully washed his face paying particular attention to the area. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was where the Austrian wench had given him a love-bite. Still looking at his image in the glass, he picked up the score and exited the toilet.

Villeneuve's formula he left behind.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Bert
Date: 07 May 01 - 02:55 PM

The little boy from Budapest, incensed at being called RUSTIC, as would any boy from a big city; jumped aboard the train as it slowed to take the curve.

He clambered into the toilet just as Estrelle closed the door. He immediately spotted the envelope and picked it up. Just as he was about to open it the door opened....

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 07 May 01 - 03:10 PM

"I'll just take that," said Napoleon. He grabbed the envelope out of the boy's hand, shooed the boy out of the restroom, and sat down on the loo.

The tall priest waited outside in the corridor until he began to get embarassed. He decided to go down to the baggage car without the french inspector. Just as he was moving to the next car, a shot rang out. He rushed back to the WC to see the frenchman lying in a pool of blood as a crowd started to gather around the body.

A quick inspection of the room showed nothing suspicious or unusual.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 07 May 01 - 03:35 PM

Duchamp lay on his back, a group of obscured faces peering down at him. He tried to get up, but it felt as though the floor held him with a magnetic force. The Orthodox Priest was suddenly there, and held his hand gently against Napoleon's chest. "No, my friend. Lie quietly. The Doctor is sent for." He tried to say that he needed no doctor, but some obstruction held back his words. Where was Matilde? He would have her send these people away. And then she was there.

But they were no longer on the train, but at the little hotel in Cannes, by the ocean, the sand warm against his back. "How do you feel, Nappie?" she said, and he said "I have never been happier. But we should move our blanket. I feel the sea lapping under me." Matilde didn't answer, and the waves continued their gentle movement, and soon he had slid under the tide, holding his breath, holding it until he could no longer sustain it, but at last gasped for breath, shocked that the warm sea water could fill his lungs, and he could still breath. At last he moved from her, swimming easily toward where the water lost clarity and became only a curtain of deep blue.

Father Basil took the crumpled bit of paper from Duchamp's right fist. It was the cover sheet of Villeneuve's opus...the rest was gone.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Matt_R
Date: 07 May 01 - 03:36 PM

And suddenly the doorway was eclipsed by a very large man. It was Funky Claude, the world fattest and only orchestral accordion player. His coattails of his tuxedo dragged on the floor. His waist was bounded by what could quite possible could have been the largest cumberbund ever made. "Hey, you, little boy!" He growled through the white greasepaints slopped over his bushy beard. "Give me that, little boy! Little rustic boy! Puah! Little fool! Hon hon hon!! Now it is mine! Go little urchin or I will eat you up!!"

He thrust the envelope into his unfathomable pocket and strode away, almost taking the lavatory door jam with him.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 07 May 01 - 03:39 PM

Only orchestral accordion player? Matt, haven't you ever heard of Lawrence Welk?

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Matt_R
Date: 07 May 01 - 03:47 PM

I believe the time for this story is 1938. Besides, there's a difference between a Big Band orchestra and a concert Symphony Orchestra perhaps I should have made the distinction for pedanticity.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 07 May 01 - 03:56 PM

Funky Claude sat at the bar, nursing his drink and looking at the envelope sitting on the bar surface before him.

Marcel noted the envelope with alarm, and became afraid that Napoleon and the priest would think he had lied, and perhaps even rough him up, or worse. Fortunately he kept a small, silencer-equipped pistol under the bar for just such occasions.

While taking a triple-martini to a plainclothed German officer directly behind the accordion player, Marcel covertly shot the large man several times. He hurried over to take an order from another customer by the window, and then scurried back behind the bar, dropped the pistol through a hole in the floorboards and onto the sleepers blurrily speeding by under the train, and grabbed the envelope from before the accordion player, who appeared to have fallen asleep at the bar.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: JenEllen
Date: 07 May 01 - 05:26 PM

"Ce siège est-il occupé?" The voice startled her out of her thoughts and back into the traincar in an instant. The cold hand upon her bare arm did nothing to soothe her spirit either..
"Le non, se reposent si vous choisissez à." she casually replied, but the thought of this man at her table made her want to run, and fast. She had seen him following the French Inspector and his wife, but she was doubtful if anyone else had noticed. He seemed the type of man who could make himself a wisp of smoke in a crowded room. Her Curioso had the same effect at times, and it was an infinately more charming trait in him.
"Annette Marceau.." the stranger drew her name out in exaggerated annunciation, as a cat toying with a mouse before the kill. "Oh yes, I know you, chere. What I don't know is why you are here? This isn't exactly the time for a woman in your place to be taking a pleasure trip, is it? A working holiday, perhaps?" He casually reached for her notebook on the table, but she snatched it away. "Shall I send for the good Inspector, the two of you should meet, non?"
She sat silent. After the initial grab for her notebook was averted, Annette had begun to study this man. This was beginning to sound like the shit de taureau from where she was sitting. At least the violin player had the grace to make eyes from across the room. The precise moment that the stranger's gaze drifted from her eyes to her cleavage, she knew he was lying. He knew nothing more than what could be pulled from the train record, and he would no more send for the Inspector than she would.
She knew, he was beginning to think that she knew, and the rest, as they say is l'histoire. "I have the papers that Villenueve was carrying" she whispered to him from across the table, taking care to lean just low enough "but what shall I do with them, I wonder? This train is full of theives and murderers and I fear for my very life!" Very simple, he didn't stop her to say she was lying, so he must not have Villenueve's papers, and now he would go anywhere thinking she had them. "If you promise not to tell l'Inspector that I am on this train, I will show them to you."
The two rose from the table, and as they walked past the sleeping accordionist at the bar, Annette was almost out of arm's reach when the stranger grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back towards him. "Non, chere." he whispered into her hair, "You are staying close to me and not pulling any of your little games." He held her, pinching just enough skin to make her eyes water, as she led him to the baggage car.
When they reached the car, she led him to the melting body of Villenueve himself, "In there," she pointed to the dead man's ripped coat, "Where no one would think to look." She slowly stepped back to allow the stranger access to the corpse. He knelt down, felt the seams, and turned around to face her. "There is nothing there..."
"Non?" she used the painful residual of his grasp to force a tear down her cheek as she walked towards him. "My work.." When the train hit a gentle hiccup in the track, Annette 'fell' into the stranger's arms. As she looked up at him, she saw his gaze go from desire to terror in the instant it took for her hand to remove the gun from his shoulder-holster and place it firlmy between his ribs.
She threw the body, along with the smoking gun, out of a hole somone had so generously blown in the side of the baggage car. She retrieved her notebook from the floor and resolved to see the sunrise in Budapest one more time. Returning to her compartment proved to be quite difficult, seeing as the inspector had been shot at roughly the same time as his shadow.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 07 May 01 - 06:47 PM

Marcel was taking a well-deserved break when Father Basil came into the club car and ordered himself several shots of vodka. He was fortunate to be able to lighten Napoleon's wallet without being seen; if he was going to continue his new friend's detective work, he was going to need his new friend's expense account.

He was also going to need to be sober, but that thought had momentarily escaped his mind in the aftermath of the brutal shootings that had happened in the last hour.

After having paid for his drinks, he returned to his sleeper compartment, only to find Marcel the bartender passed out on his bunk.

Actually, dead on his bunk, he discovered, after trying unsuccessfully to wake the bartender several times, and finally rolling him over to find blood oozing out from his mouth and nostrils.

As he stepped into the corridor, the door to the aft of the train clicked to. He decided to follow whoever it was that had just gone that way.

In the next car, he saw the back of the plaineclothes German officer just letting himself out the far door. He was in no position to run, but he knew exactly where the man was headed. He could guess what he had with him, also.

Nevertheless, what could the burly priest do? He hurried down the corridor as fast as he could, banging against the wall every several steps.

When he reached the door to the baggage car, he was surprised to see a French woman coming out of it. He grabbed her arm and escorted her back into the baggage car.

"I have reason to believe you have something that beloned to the late Dr. Villanueve," Father Basil said in his best French, which was pretty good, give or take his inebriated state.

"I do not speek ze French," Annette lied, in rather broken English.

"That is okay," said the priest, "I speak English also."

"Merde," said Annette. She drew her pistol and shot into the priest's chest.

He stumbled backwards, slamming against the wall of the car. She expected him to crumple to the floor, but he remained standing. Quicker than thought, he reached for the pistol and wrenched it out of her grip. Grinning, he opened his cloak to reveal a large pectoral cross, badly dented, with a lead bullet smashed flat against the center.

"Perhaps le Bon Dieu (*the man upstairs) was looking out for me, Madammoiselle," he said. "Why don't you come with me." He grabbed her arm and started to move toward the door, which suddenly flew open...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Naemanson
Date: 07 May 01 - 07:04 PM

As near as I can tell Villenueve was carrying a LIBRARY of papers around with him! At my last count there were no fewer than three people each thinking they have the papers. Hmmm... Where can this be going? Tune in later for another exciting episode of Too Many Crooks!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: katlaughing
Date: 07 May 01 - 08:07 PM

Okay, boyos, hit it! yelled the not so prim Miss Penny Waistcoat, actually Colonel Waistcoast, Special Agent of the Special Services to the fledgling Mushroom Cloud Energy Resources Committee of the Natural Resources branch of the Department of Interior's State Parks and Recreation Division of the Energy Department of the United States, to her compatriots West and Gordon.

With that, Gordon shot out a wide-spreading net capturing the padre and the little French lady, while West detained all other moving bodies in the baggage car (head count, please?!**BG), flipping the German officer out the neatly blown hole they'd left in the side of the car.

Now listen here, all a'youse, I am Colonel Waistcoast, Special Agent of the Special Services to the fledgling Mushroom Cloud Energy Resources Committee of the Natural Resources branch of the Department of Interior's State Parks and Recreation Division of the Energy Department of the United States. She took a gasp of air.

The reason I say fledgling is because up until now we haven't had the Secret Formula de la Vill-A-NewV to activate our high-powered positronic reactors. Jim, show them the pictures! she ordered.

Now, I know one of you has those plans and we are not leaving here until I find them and take them back to the Special Services to the fledgling Mushroom Cloud Energy Resources Committee of the Natural Resources branch of the Department of Interior's State Parks and Recreation Division of the Energy Department of the United States she turned blue, Gordon gave her a swift pat on the back, while she drew in a heaping gulp of air.

Gordie, she said, search 'em, every last one of 'em, including mawn belle, over there!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Matt_R
Date: 07 May 01 - 08:44 PM

At the bar, Zundapp, with harpoon still in hand, strode up to the slumped over form of Funky Claude.

"Wake up, you no-good barrel of patte!" he said good-naturedly, slapping Claude on the shoulder. He didn't move.

"Come on mon ami, we have a job to do!" He rejoined. No response.

"Corboeuf, you are drunk as a deadman tonight! Come with me," he said, drawing his long arms around the massive form of Claude.

His arms did not reach around completely. He attemped to lift him off his stool, but the overwhelming weight of the huge Frenchman caught him off guard, and them both fell to the floor with a thud. He pulled himself to his knees and turned to look at Claude. His tuxedo jacket lay open now, showing several bulletholes to the upper abdomen, ringed with dried blood.

"Pie Jesu!" he screamed, in Latin. "What have they done to you!? Gendarme! Someone find a gendarme! This man has been murdered!!"

Zundapp, in a break his hysteria, saw several articles of paper protruding from the top of his jacket pocket. Zundapp leafed through them. Most were bills from expensive restaurants from the Arrondismont by Pont Neuf, but one document seemed out of place. A yellow-tinged envelope. A sure sign of cheap stationary. Zundapp recognized the writing on the front. Villeneuve!! He knew that meticulous handwriting anywhere. He had been tracking it for the last 8 months. He opened the envelope with the tip of his harpoon. The letter inside was brief to say the least. In Villeneuve's handwriting : Budapest. Station 3. Track 7. .

What could it mean? Damme! Claude had been his ally in this. Now he had to carry on indepentantly. He quickly stuffed the letter and envelope into his long green jacket just as the echo of jackboots came resounding down the corridor...

Claude had been his ally in this affair...and now he was dead.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: JenEllen
Date: 07 May 01 - 09:40 PM

"Nice try, priest," growled Annette Marceau. "What makes you think that Villenueve's papers mean anything to ME? I have their entire contents right here.." with one delicate forefinger, she lightly tapped her temple, "who do you think WROTE the damnable things?? I only need to keep the papers themselves away from the likes of you!" She jerked her arm away from him just as the door flew open. The net floated around her, and she could swear that the Gordon man winked at her as it fell.

Disaster. With the entire train's human cargo shoved in a baggage car like so many cattle, Annette breathed a sigh of relief when the train whistle signaled their entrance into the Budapest station.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Matt_R
Date: 07 May 01 - 09:46 PM

Zundapp, hearing the commotion, made an egress as brusque as his entrance--just as the net floated ethereally over Claude's lifeless form.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 07 May 01 - 09:46 PM

First Villeneuve...then Carruthers...Claude...the German...perhaps Napoleon Duchamp...All Dead?! Stay tuned as we learn more about the sinister doings aboard The Mudcat Orient Express! But first, these important messages...

Hello, I'm Richard Starling, but many of you know me as the French Detective, Napoleon Duchamp. You know, in my role as Inspector Duchamp, I've solved many a knotty problem, but here's a mystery that keeps me baffled...the smooth, deep satisfaction that comes only from a Gauloise cigarette. You know, tobacco use has been shown by scientists to enhance the memory, but I am quite sure I can't remember any other feeling of warm, mellow completeness like the one I get with every puff of my Gauloise. Once considered a treat for only those such as famous actors, musicians, artists and others "in the know", Gauloise cigarettes have now been made available to the population at large, so that everyone can enjoy the refreshing feeling of alert well-being that I enjoy over forty times a day.

The next time you find yourself on the brink of a romantic encounter, produce the ripe, aromatic blue package amd whisper to her Fumee'? Fumee, oui Cheri? You'll be glad you did.

And now...back to The Mudcat Orient Express!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: CarolC
Date: 07 May 01 - 09:58 PM

...and in one stunning moment, her moment had arrived. The accordion player/clown/ballerina pirouetted into the melee, with two tiny poodles jumping loop-de-loops around her, while she juggled fruit, frantically, anything to draw attention to the boxes in the back of the car.

All eyes turned toward her and the amazing spectacle she presented. Now! she thougt, Now Honore! Now's your chance! Take it!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: CarolC
Date: 07 May 01 - 10:01 PM

(Oops... from the back of the car!)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Naemanson
Date: 07 May 01 - 10:47 PM

Honore peered out from behind the crates into the swirling melee of bodies, smoke, netting, and noise. He saw the Lady Of Spain Lady juggling madly while the others fought and cursed in between them. She'd never seemed so lovely but now was not the time for sightseeing.

He tried to assess the situation. There was one madly struggling heap of humanity on the floor encased in a net. There was one large and violent looking man searching the pretty french woman and the man was not being a gentleman about it. There was another person holding a gun on another group in the other corner. And in the center was the Woman With The Impossibly Long Sentences and the leather lungs. She's have done well as the ringmaster.

"I wondah who else we could fit in here.", he thought to himself as he made his decision. "An' I wondah who's drivin' dis train?"

Moving like lightning he flipped himself over the crates and came down precisely behind the WWTILS and jammed his pistol into the small of her back.

"Nobody move!", he shouted.

The woman stiffened. He could see it coming as he had seen it so many times before. She spun around, hands and feet attacking a target she just knew HAD to be there. Unfortunately for her she had expected someone at least 5'5" tall. Honore Bette stood 3'2". The attack exploded into the air over his head and the woman only spun herself dizzy trying to stop.

"If yore done dancin' maybe ye'll hold still like I tole ye!", he growled. "Or maybe I should blow off one a' yore kneecaps!"

The room silenced. Everyone froze.

"Ya know, we'd be warmer iffen sumone hadn't blown a hole in the side a' this car!"

"OK," he said, "Everyone who has summa dose papers hole up yore hand."

Hands shot up all over the room.

"Yeah, dat's wut I thought!" He looked up at the woman. Whaddya think, doll face, you gonna collect 'em all? Go ahead."

The woman nodded to the two men and they went ahead with their search...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 08 May 01 - 12:12 AM

The side door of the baggage car opened. The porters, ready to start taking down luggage, were shocked and amazed to see no fewer than fifty people in the car, most of them alive.

There were no guns to be seen, as well as no papers.

The occupants of the car stared, blinking, at the porters. The porters stared, blinking, at the occupants of the car. Nobody moved.

"I believe I can explain," said Father Basil, still trapped beneath the net, "If somebody would take this net off of me."

Still, nobody moved.

The porters finally broke the stalemate by removing all the bags which belonged to passengers debarking in Budapest. They also removed all the dead bodies. They loaded a few new trunks belonging to passengers boarding the train in Budapest. All of this was done silently, as the bizarre tableau in the boxcar stood frozen to the spot, nobody daring to move or speak.

Finally, saying, "We saw nothing" in several languages, the porters closed the doors of the boxcar, the great steam whistle sounded, and the train began to move.

"Merde!" said several voices, more or less at once.

But when Honore Bette, after handcuffing virtually everybody else in the car, lifted the net, Father Basil was nowhere to be seen.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: JenEllen
Date: 08 May 01 - 12:36 AM

As the midget and his lovely assistant began to handcuff everyone in the car, Annette began moving her net to the gaping hole in the traincar. She glanced down and winced at the ground rolling beneath her, and she jumped. In doing so, she inadvertantly pushed the priest along with her, and the two tumbled clumsily out of the car. Falling for what seemed like an eternity, the two finally came to rest, and Annette sat up to watch the train slowly rolling away from them and on to Budapest.

From her calculations, they were a little over a mile from the station, she had better start walking. She began, with the priest behind her, and the cold morning air leaving their bodies in billowing clouds. She could hear the priest behind her, black and furious, snorting like a mad bull. She was limping on a twisted ankle, and her patience was short. When she finally spun around to face him, her hair had come unpinned and was floating in mad waves around her shoulders, her face was caked in dust, and her lip was bleeding from the fall. She stood shivering in her sleeveless evening dress, and he saw more than a little of the tigress in her eye.

"Don't look at me like that, Priest.." she once again growled

"But, you left all of the papers in pieces with that rabble on the train.." he snarled back

"What? Do you take me for feeble-minded, Priest? Did they not teach you of decoys in church? Who better than a loudmouth like Villenueve to draw attention to himself and away from me?? Tres stupide, non? To advertise in plain text how to build a bomb? I particularly like Curioso's idea for the title--Preliminary Study for Production of Thermonuclear Device-- Basically, it entails the chemical components for my Mere's recipe for apple tart! So many on that train willing to steal, but not so many willing to READ, are there now Priest??

The priest looked at her in shock, "Then, you weren't joking?" he taps his head.

"Non, now, less talk and more walk. I need to reach that sstation, I have someone I need to see."

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: katlaughing
Date: 08 May 01 - 12:45 AM

From the corner of her eye, Special Agent Waistcoat saw the *mawn* (she had a Western accent which didn't allow for the "moan") belle fall out the hole. She hoped the padre didn't crush her to death as he followed. Nodding to Gordie and Jim, she slipped over to the gaping hole, grasped the upper edge and swung herself back up onto the roof.

She reached into the inside pocket of her, well...her waistcoat and pulled out a slender rod, which she pulled on and extended, then put to her eye. Behind the track, she could see the padre and the now limping darling of Curiouso. It looked as though they were just following the train, but she didn't trust that wily dame. Jumping off the train herself, she rolled to the side, then ran in low profile to hide behind some trees. There, she waitd for the padre and the woman to cross her path once more. She knew they were up to something.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 08 May 01 - 12:46 AM

But the priest spoke from under the netting while they were at the station! Perhaps we should change that to have somebody else say, "I can explain everything..."

Alex

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Troll
Date: 08 May 01 - 12:57 AM

In the galley of the dining car, Georges, the sou chef, was chopping onions. He moved almost automatically, selecting an onion, a quick scoring to remove the outer layer of skin, the rapid cuts across and then the blur of the knife as the once whole legume became a mound of identically sized pieces.
Georges enjoyed chopping onions. He was very, very good at it. It took a sharp knife and nimble fingers and Georges had both.
He chopped onions and dreamed of the day when he would be the head chef on the Mudcat Orient Express and Babette, the waitress would be his.
Suddenly the door flew open and a black malacca cane across the hand caused the razor-sharp knife to fall from benumbed fingers.
"No! You are dead! I saw...

troll

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: katlaughing
Date: 08 May 01 - 01:00 AM

(oops...hmmm, what can we do with the padre et alia?)**BG**

a sous chef...I like it!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: CarolC
Date: 08 May 01 - 01:18 AM

(*legume?*)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Troll
Date: 08 May 01 - 01:44 AM

Mea culpa. It's a member of the lily family. I got carried away with the roll and thunder of the prose and Angie wanted a drink and Freddy was trying to sing, Again! and...
OK! I GOOFED! SHEESH!

i'm sorry.

troll

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: katlaughing
Date: 08 May 01 - 02:28 AM

It was code for "let go u me!" Or the sous chef really works for the League Estate Gendarmes United Marching E-Parade (Band)???**BG**

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: CarolC
Date: 08 May 01 - 03:23 AM

(heh heh heh)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Naemanson
Date: 08 May 01 - 06:32 AM

"It was a good thing that crate was full of handcuffs!" The accordion player had a soft husky voice. "That takes care of the whole crowd."

"Yeah," Honore grunted, "Too bad dey were trick handcuffs. Look!"

He pointed as the priest and the french woman leaped from the car followed by the team from the Special Services to the fledgling Mushroom Cloud Energy Resources Committee of the Natural Resources branch of the Department of Interior's State Parks and Recreation Division of the Energy Department of the United States who flipped out through the same hole.

Honore gathered up the bundle of scientific papers he had gathered and piled them into the cola burning stove in the back of the car. Striking a match he lit them and watched as they burned.

Once they were ashes he turned back to the rest of the crowd and addressed them.

"Now look, youse guys a been runnin' aroun' dis train, bumpin' each udder off and makin a mess a tings for de last few days. Now dere ain't no more papers and dere ain't no more bodies. Just settle down back here or I'm gonna stop dis train and make you sorry you came along!"

He turned to the accordion player. "I'm goin' back to bed! You comin'?" With that he stumped off down the length of the train with a grim look on his face. The papers he had taken from Pauls coat rustled in his pocket. He had just the place for them.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Matt_R
Date: 08 May 01 - 10:04 AM

Zundapp had jumped from the train as soon the commotion began. He crashed to the ground as the Express steamed into the station a mile down the line. Zundapp got slowly to his feet, and untangling his harpoon from a rather prickly bush, set it the ready and made his way stealthily to the station not far away.

Budapest.

Zundapp had been here several times in the past few times. But this was the first time he had ever seen it at 1am, which the stars and a gibbous moon shining high in the night sky. He was careful to take cover in his trek to the station. The moon was casting long shadows on the ground, and this was not a good thing for a man with a harpoon as tall as himself.

Slowly and painfully precisely, he made his way to the station. There was something strange going on at Station 1, where the Orient Express had pulled in. Through the whispy strands of fog, he could make out many figures standing in the vicinity of the passenger cars. And stepping down he saw 6 men with a litter. There was a large mass on it that could have only been the body of Claude. Zundapp crossed himself and moved on, watching out for any Budapest policemen that patrolled the station.

He slinked over the tangled mass of tracks and lines, each stretching off into the fog. Cars and engines were parked everywhere. He climbed between two massive locomotives. Station 2. One more to go. The parked cars became more and more dense. Each marked with emblems of various countries and companies. Squeezing and twisting through tiny holes and spaces, Zundapp pressed onward.

Slinking around a coal tender, Station there was suddenly there looming up in front of him out of the night.

Damme.

There were police as thick as a Russian fur hat surrounding the station and the cars on the tracks. He blinked a few times. He came to a sudden realization.

These were not Hungarian police. No. The farthest thing from that. Furthest from anything. Their long gray coats gave them the appearance of ghosts. Their weapons sparkled. Ghosts as grey as death.

Fortunately, Zundapp had been trained for situations just like this. Tucking his harpoon against his body inside his coat, he rolled and ducked from car to car. Then he saw it.

Track 7.

There was a line of 8 boxcars parked silently on the track. The grey men were densest here. Zundapp kept his calm. Straining his young eyes, he read the insignia of a Polish lumber company painting in stark whitewash on the side of each car. Wrapping his coat as tightly to his body as possible, Zundapp took off at a run and hurled himself under the last of the cars, which was closest to him. There was a loud crunch of gravel as he hit the ground face-down between the rolling stock. The grey ghost men started shouting in harsh voices and scrambling. Countless torches swept the area and the sound of clicking gun parts echoed in the stationyard.

Zundapp made his body as compact as possible. At once, as if he did not notice it before, an overpowering stench came over him.

Excrement.

The ghosts were guarding a manure shipment? Livestock? Zundapp, as quietly as possible, rolled over to look up. Through the cracks and gaps in the board making up the floor of the boxcar, he could see up into it. The eerie moonlight, combined with the flashing torches of the harsh-voiced men cast a glow into the car. Zundapp could see the contents of the car.

Not manure. Not livestock.

Human beings.

They were crushed together with no room between them.

Human beings.

Through a plugged out knothole in the floorboard, Zundapp could see the face of a young girl. The expression on her face broke Zundapp's heart at that very moment. Such a sorrowful face he had never seen in all of his young life. He saw tears sparkling on her cheek.

Lying there motionless, he felt a drop of warm liquid touch the back of his hand.

Rain?

He brought his hand to his face. It sparkled as the frantic torches still waved. It was salty.

A tear.

His heart broke for the second time that night.

Zundapp knew who these people were. He knew where they were going. And he couldn't let it happen.

Slowly, he unfurled his harpoon from his coat and laid it by his side. From inside his coat he pulled out something else. A Sten submachine gun. He rolled over onto his stomach again. And aimed for the farthest grey-ghost he could see through the precision sights. His finger tensed on the trigger.

His eyebrows furrowed, he pulled.

The ghost crumbled, his weapon clattering on the pavement of the station platform. There was a deadly silence. Zundapp had a silencer. So did all members of the French Secret Police. Jean-Louis Zundapp was no different.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 08 May 01 - 11:26 AM

A heavy snow was falling. The priest, the madamoiselle, and everybody else who leapt through the hole in the side of the train died of exposure.

Zundapp died of gunshot wounds.

The midget and the accordion player made it to Constantinople/Istanbul, and were immediately arrested by the Turks and shot.

The train was derailed by the Soviet agents, but there were no secret papers to take back to Stalin. All the agents were sent to the Gulag, where they eventually died from exhaustion and exposure.

Did I leave anything out?

THE END

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: mousethief
Date: 08 May 01 - 11:28 AM

This was a lot of fun -- somebody start a new story!

Alex

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Peter T.
Date: 08 May 01 - 11:45 AM

[Sorry, there are implicit rules: you can't kill off other people's characters without their permission or an obvious convergence of plot; nor can you end a story all by yourself. You can abandon it if you like, but the rest can feel free to continue.]

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: katlaughing
Date: 08 May 01 - 12:13 PM

(Oops, and I went and started a new one! Sorry about that, Peter, thanks. I was wondering about that!**BG**)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: CarolC
Date: 08 May 01 - 12:32 PM

The priest's nightmare was so vivid, waking almost seemed like a dream. He awoke, shivering with cold in a ditch by the side of the railroad track. He didn't know how long he had been lying there. The inert form of Anette Marceau lay sleeping fitfully not far away...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: CarolC
Date: 08 May 01 - 12:51 PM

Nodding to the dwarf, she gathered the two little poodles up in a special pouch under her ballerina skirt. This took some doing, because the little dogs were in an ecstasy of scent trails. They were running and jumping loop-de-loops all over the baggage car, and barking at the riot of the scents created by the recently enacted human tragi-comedy.

After gathering up the recalcitrant poodles and collecting her fruit, she followed her friend and compatriot, Honore Bette, the dwarf, out of the car and down the passageway...

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Caitrin
Date: 08 May 01 - 02:58 PM

Cuffed! "Merde." Celeste thought. What in the hell was she to do now? So close to the papers...now, they would doubtlessly fall into the wrong hands. With the Inspector dead, Celeste could think of no way to get the information to the Anglais. Having been arrested, she'd doubtlessly end up being turned over to the Germans; it wouldn't take long then for them to discover her activities.
Celeste Mondrian walked along with the prisoners calmly, knowing she was as good as dead.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: JenEllen
Date: 08 May 01 - 04:46 PM

The priest walked close beside her. Partly to throw his cassock around her shoulders for warmth, and partly to help her twisted form walk on. They reached the edge of town as the sky was beginning to lighten. The clouds had spit out their light snow and had moved on to the hills. One remaining star hung in the sky, defiant of the approching sun.
Annette raised her head, and smiled slightly as she muttered, "Bright star, would I were as steadfast as thou art.." The priest was beginning to wonder the effects the cold had taken on this woman. He had no idea of the sparrow fluttering in her heart when she saw the rooftops of Budapest.

Curioso waited at the train station, standing under the lamp, with his back leaned against the pole. The fact that no one, save a few corpses, left the train in Budapest, set his own sparrow into convulsions. What had happened here? To rush and ask would give everything away. He wanted to tell the boarding passengers to run, save themselves, but that was folly as well. However, without those ideas, his world was lost.

Annette and the priest crept along at a snail's pace until she saw another bright star: Curioso, now sitting in the lamplight halo, staring at the now empty tracks. He stood and turned at the sound of their arrival. Within a few strides he had reached the pair. He slipped one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulder, and then pulled the filthy remains of the woman to him for what, to the priest, seemed an eternity.
"Mon cher, j'ai pensé que vous devez être mort." he whispered, with his face pressed to her neck.
"Non," she chuckled, "Not quite. Au moins dans la mort je serais plus propre, non?"
Curioso held her to arm's length and truly marveled at the mess she had made of herself. "Come, I have a hotel room, you can bathe there." Seemingly for the first time, he noticed the priest standing awkwardly beside them both, and motioned for him to come along as well.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: JenEllen
Date: 08 May 01 - 04:48 PM

The next hour found the three ensconced in Curioso's quiet rooms of the hotel. The priest sat in a chair by the window, occasionally lifting the shade to peer out from behind to the street below. Curioso had taken his chair into the bathroom and sat as he talked to the steaming tub of water and foam that somewhere inside it contained Annette Marceau.
"Tell me again, chere." he said, as he passed her a washcloth.
"D'accord. Paul was killed. The man I saw taking the violin from his room was not the man who stole the papers. Apparently Paul was smarter than we thought. Nevertheless, the papers were stolen by someone on that train, that part of the plan was working. I am thinking that the only thing that saved my life from that point was that the other occupants on the train were, how to say, fou? Crazy, yes, mad as hatters. Napoleon Duchamps was there, I think he was killed as well, but as far as I know, he was the only one who knew who I was. Then he comes along -(points menacingly at the bathroom door)- and drags me to what becomes a train-wide orgy in a baggage car full of dead men. They threw a fishnet on me! juste comme un maquereau!! Jumping out of the train became a much better option, at that point!"
"Avancez." Curioso replied, and taking the washcloth from her, began to scrub her back. To this Annette smiled and purred, "Eh bien, comment votre jour était-il chéri?"
"Well, as you know, the railbed explosion went off cleanly. The only dirt there being Morzik. -(he laughs)- You know, you can still smell the fish on him? All the same. Tomasz sends his regards, -(she smiles)- and so does Mariana -(to which the woman in the bath replies with sticking her tongue out and giving a delicate 'framboise')- Ah, le monstre vert, she lives again!!-(he tugs her ear with his soapy fingers)-Come now, a rest for you, have you slept at all?" The woman yawns, shakes her head, and takes the proffered towel. Her feel still leaving small puddles on the floor, she stumbles off to the bed.

Curioso, with his shadow still lingering with Yamada, now stands before the priest. "Who are you looking for out there?"
The father, pointing slightly, replies "That woman on the street, flanked by the two gentlemen? I am sure I saw her on the Express."

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Peter T.
Date: 08 May 01 - 05:43 PM

Curioso looked down into the street, and looked back up. "Enough mayhem for one day, Father. Every ending is a new beginning somewhere else. You are welcome to bed down here if you like. I have the collected Philokalia on the wall, and we must discuss your famous paper on John Chrysostom sometime."

"You have read my paper?" he replied, flattered.
"I disagree with your assessment of his anti-Semitism. We are witnessing here in Eastern Europe some of the consequences of that."

"My son, you are perhaps right in some ways, wrong in others. However, " and he leant in the direction of the other room," given the lady, it would be most unorthodox for me to remain." He laughed, and turned to go. "But let me give you this." And he handed him a miniature icon of St. John the Divine. "Should you get to Constantinople, try showing this at the entrance on the left of the Hagia Sophia." And he left.

Curioso sat down to survey the ruins of the situation. What would Yamada and the Black Master do now? This cat and mouse game had broken out into the open. He went into the other room where Annette lay naked, asleep, and he looked at her and smiled. Well, at least the plans are safe, and with what was in Annette's head as well, the Swedish trip could still happen. Now to get us both to Istanbul.

There were three choices: a boat down the Danube tomorrow night; the overland route through Romania; and the next Express. In part it depended on who did kill Paul Villeneuve. He would have to think about it. He got himself a chair, and sat in the window corner, looking at Annette asleep. Dusk entered the room, and he sat, looking, looking until he could not see across the room at all. It was night.

She finally stirred. "Mmmf - Curioso?" She lifted her head.

"Here," he said.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: katlaughing
Date: 08 May 01 - 07:02 PM

Colonel Waistcoat and her compadres stood in the shadows and watched as the padre left the room and building where the lovely Annette and Curiouso were staying. With a quick nod to Gordie, the Colonel indicated he should follow the priest. They would meet up at the designated spot next morning, unless something happened; then it would be up to Gordie to meet them in Istanbul, for she felt sure that was the next stop in this whirlwind of intrigue.

In the meantime, she glanced over at West, giving him a sly come-hither look. He followed her up the outside staircase of a nearby building. At the top of the stairs, she unlocked a door, entering a room with a fireplace and table and chairs. To the right was a small alcove, with a bed by the window. It gave a perfect view of the room across the street.

You want to take first watch of the lovebirds, Jim, while I wash this grime off? she asked. There was a bathroom to the left, with a Yeti-sized bathtub waiting for her sink into. She began to strip off various pieces of clothing, while Jim watched, first her, then the window. She giggled...Oh, James, it IS good to see you! Tell you what, after I get out of here, we can BOTH watch them...from the bed. At that, West strode across the room sweeping her into his arms and covering her with passionate kisses. She kissed him back, hard. With promises of more, she pushed him away and shut the door.

Finally finding himself alone, West took off his hat, pulled back the inside sweatband to reveal a tiny communication device. This is Agent West, come in Dearly Beloved, come in. Are you getting close to Shangri-la, yet? All he could hear was a sputter, then the thread of a ghostly tendril of sound wafted through the receiver...Jimmy? Jimm....splutter...splat...crackleJimmy is that you? Oh, Jimm...and it's close and....come qui...and with a large pop the sound was lost.

West thought to himself, I'd better get this taken care of quickly. Our Dearly Beloved sounds like she is in trouble in the Himalayas!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Matt_R
Date: 08 May 01 - 07:06 PM

Aside: Jimmy? Shangri-La? I thought the Toyko Firebomb Raid didn't happen 'til '42!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: katlaughing
Date: 08 May 01 - 07:10 PM

CLICK HERE to follow or join in the adventures of Ms. Dearly Beloved Rypinski as she searches for Shangri-La.

(Started when this one looked like it was done for...DB can wait though...just thought I'd intro ONE MORE character to this one!**BG**)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: JenEllen
Date: 09 May 01 - 02:17 AM

"Chere, Il est est matin ou nuit?" Annette fumbled in the darkness for the light switch.
"Wait," replied Curioso, "I'll get it." He turned the lamp on, and for the next few seconds, the two squinted blindly at each other. Curioso moved from his chair by the window, abandoning his post to sit near Annette on the edge of the bed. The bed gave a groan of protest, and so did the woman. Annette rubbed her eyes, and looked tiredly up at him. Curioso waited, and smiled as he watched her, no man would ever be happy by rushing a woman from her bed.
He lightly kissed her forehead and replied "It's evening. How are you feeling?"
"Rested, mais j'ai faim." she sighed. As her mind returned to her, she quickly scanned the room, "The priest? He is gone?"
Curioso nodded solemnly as he retrieved the clothes he had brought for her from the suitcase on the floor. She hurriedly dressed. He suggested they find a restaurant, but Annette shook her head, "I've been trapped on a train for too many days, chere, let's walk."

The street below the hotel window was busy with evening traffic. They stood at the base of the stairs in contemplation of direction, when an unmistakable noise issued from the second floor window of the hotel across the street. Annette's eyes widened in mock surprise as she fanned her face with her hand, "Ah, pour être jeune et dans l'amour!" She laughed and grabbed Curioso's hand, pulling him in behind a passing throng of tourists who were busily discussing the second-rate production of 'Angyalt Vettem Felesegul' they had just seen. Two wolves hiding amongst the sheep, the pair walked unnoticed until they reached the Matthias Church, where Annette stood, studying the southern portal, as Curioso bought food from a vendor. The two sat to eat their meal in the shadow of the death of the virgin.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Orient Express (Track 2)
From: Peter T.
Date: 09 May 01 - 09:43 PM

And then a whole lot of things happened, including some mushy stuff, and some derring-do, and the world careened towards war, and the usual, and then they turned up HERE!