Harry stepped off the train onto the busy platform. He was wearing a blue waterproof, although it was a cloudless day, and he carried a green sports bag. He asked where he could find someone at the station who dealt with general security and similar matters. He was shown into the inspector’s office.
“I’ve got a problem”, he announced, “Or
rather, two problems. Firstly, I’m afraid I got on the wrong train, so I don’t have
the right ticket. I should have left the train earlier, but it was very crowded
and I was tired, and I’m not familiar with this route. So I’d be most grateful
if you could help me get a ticket to return back home so I can start again.”
He produced the ticket. The inspector looked
at it and reassured Harry that this would not cause any difficulty.
“But the other’s rather more complicated”.
Hary continued, “You see, this isn’t my bag, and I don’t know what to do with
it. My bag looks just the same, but it doesn’t have this little padlock on the
zip. Also, mine wasn’t as heavy. I left my bag on the rack at the end of the
carriage, and I picked this one up when we reached the station, thinking it was
mine. I don’t know what had happened: I didn’t see any bag like mine. Perhaps
someone else took my bag by mistake at an earlier stop, and left their own: I
don’t know. But what should I do now?”
He asked if his bag had contained anything
valuable.
“Oh, just clothes and shoes and a few bits
and pieces: nothing of any importance. But it’s the annoyance, and it makes me
feel such a fool, picking up the wrong bag. I’m sorry to be a nuisance. Can you
help?”
The inspector suggested Harry should provide
his name and address, so he could be contacted if his own bag was handed in
somewhere. Harry told him, as instructed,
“I’m James Harklid; that’s H-a-r-k-l-i-d, and I live at 14, Merrial Street,
Reading…” he found he had forgotten the postcode he was supposed to have
memorised, but he remembered that Reading began with RG-something, so he made the
rest up and added an improvised mobile phone number and email address. He was
much relieved when the inspector noted them down without question.
Harry then asked, “Look, do you mind if I
nip off to the loo? I’ll be back in a minute!” He was directed to a public
toilet further along the platform.
Once in the cubicle, Harry pulled from his
pocket a tightly rolled bag, into which he stowed his waterproof, then he
produced a black baseball cap which he placed on his head. Confident that he
would not be recognised, he left the station by handing in a legitimate train
ticket to that town, and without much difficulty found the car that was ready
to take him away.
He had successfully played his part in the
operation, and although it was no longer any concern of his, he mused vaguely
on what might be found in the bag he had contrived to leave. Certainly it was
heavy, and felt like it held a number of different large objects. Would it
eventually be claimed, and by whom? Or would it remain for weeks, perhaps months,
before people decided to open it? And then they might get the surprise of their
lives ….. those who survived.
…………………………………………………
Alternative
ending
In the car,
Harry explained his actions.
“I sensed right from the start that the
operation had somehow been compromised. That’s why I bought the two different
tickets – and of course I was careful to buy them on different days, and paid
with cash, not a card. I was certain I was being watched on the train, and I
recognised two men at the barrier, waiting to intercept me. But after I changed
clothes, they didn’t spot me when I left; and anyway I didn’t have the bag. Oh,
and I think the inspector might perhaps be one of ours; you’d better check with
higher up. Anyway, I’ve got the goods this far, so it’s up to you and higher up
what you do now.”
He felt greatly relieved, and silently swore
never again not to be involved in such a perilous transaction. It never occurred to him that his companions might view his actions in a somewhat different light.
