The Firebird Mystery by Darrell Pitt Read Free Book Online Page B

existed—not the chuffing of the engine, not even the thunderous rattling as the train charged along the tracks at full pace.
    I will hold on , he thought. I will not fall. I will be all right.
    His head may have believed it, but his heart was still pounding so hard it felt ready to burst from his chest. He glanced upwards. His hands were secure. Jack judged the distance to the swaying handrail and reached up with his free hand. When he knew his grip was steady, he pulled himself back onto the metal gangway.
    He was alive. But he had forgotten how to breathe. Now he sucked in lungfuls of air as his legs threatened to collapse under him. He thanked his parents, wherever they were.
    â€˜Practise, practise, practise,’ his father had told him. ‘One day it will save your life.’
    Today was that day.
    Jack slid the door open. His legs were still shaking as if he was staggering about on stilts, but he was more determined than ever to catch the assailant. Looking across the rows of timber seats, Jack spotted the man, sitting alone in the seat furthest away, the porcelain face effectively hiding his identity. He was staring straight ahead into space, seemingly contemplating his cleverness at throwing a fourteen-year-old boy under the wheels of a moving train. As Jack entered the carriage, the man’s head jerked backwards with shock.
    That’s right , Jack thought. I don’t die that easily.
    The man leapt to his feet, turned tail and exited through the end door. As Jack started down the aisle, another train drew parallel. Jack heard the faraway grinding of cogs as an exterior door was forced open.
    A terrible suspicion started to form in the back of his mind. He hoped he was wrong. Running the length of the carriage, Jack opened the door to the vestibule. He was right. There was no exit at this end. Jack pounced on the door to his right and tugged it open with all his strength.
    He looked across to the other train. Passengers always complained about the condition of the exit doors—the steam-powered mechanism often failed, leaving the doors to slide open without warning.
    And the door in the train running parallel to his carriage was wide open.
    Oh blimey , Jack thought. I was afraid of that.
    The thief had jumped across the gap. Jack had performed somersaults, double and triple, hundreds of times, but always with a net. Jumping between moving trains was like asking for a trip to the hospital—or more likely the morgue.
    He eased his head out and jerked it back in as an upright metal stanchion whizzed past him at great speed. When it was safe, he peered back out again. Both trains were about to enter different tunnels.
    It was now or never.
    The thief would escape if the trains separated. A wall blanketed in black soot flashed past. The two locomotives drew parallel again—but now the other train started to increase speed.
    No!
    Jack undid his belt and dragged it from his pants. Looking to his left, he drew back again, struggling to hold the door open with his free hand. Another metal stanchion flew past. This time he leaned out and swung the belt in a tight loop.
    Come on!
    Now!
    Jack cracked his belt like a whip and the end wrapped around the handrail of the open door. He pulled down hard on it, creating a tighter grip, and then he jumped.
    His whole attention remained on the handrail as he jerked on the length of leather. For an instant he saw his mother’s face, smiling from the high platform at the circus, encouraging him to swing to her. A second later Jack grasped the outside handrail of the other train. He swung through the doorway and slammed into the opposite wall.
    A cigarette fell out of the mouth of a man standing nearby. ‘Blimey,’ he said. ‘Are you people completely daft?’
    Jack picked himself up. ‘Where did the other fellow go?’
    The man pointed wordlessly into the carriage. Jack retrieved his belt and glanced down the corridor. The interior was