Author's Note: This is my first straight, light adventure story so I thought I'd like to have some fun. For the purists in the audience I have taken a few minor liberties with early 20th century mail cars. It helps to hear the dialogue in the actors' voices. Enjoy!

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"Mission: Zanzibar"

Chapter One

Outside, Night was moonless and still over the landscape.

Inside, the overhead electric lighting went out just as their carriage jolted sharply, plunging the train compartment into deep blackness and immediately emphasizing the four-beat rhythmic pulse of the rails underneath the floor: Clack, Clack, Click-clack…Clack, Clack, Click-clack….

Three things occurred nearly simultaneously with the loss of illumination: a whoosh of air, a soft thud sounded on the floor, then a woman's scream (or was it the train's wheels scraping or the steam whistle of a passing engine?) obscured sounds of the compartment door sliding shut. This all happened so fast it left the passengers dumbstruck…

…"Bloody Hell!" broke the silence. One by one, small hand-held torches pierced the gloom, fetched from 3 pockets, one reticule, a Gladstone bag and a leather satchel.

Six lights were more than enough for the small space, lighting up two plush benches, with Margaret Brackenreid, her husband Thomas and Henry Higgins on one, facing Julia Ogden, William Murdoch and George Crabtree on the other.

"Well, what was that all about?" Margaret voiced, pointing her torch around the space. "I thought these trains were well equipped and well run. If I knew this compartment was going to be faulty I never would have negotiated for it!" Sounds of movement and irritated inquires could be heard in the adjacent corridor as other passengers apparently fumbled in the dark.

"Margaret! How do you have one of those?" Thomas complained about the light in her hand. "Murdoch, I thought you only made one especially for me?" His wounded look was priceless.

"As did I sir," Henry examined the torch in his own hand, comparing it to the much larger one in Dr. Ogden's, all of a sudden feeling less-endowed than he did before.

Julia noticed Henry's look in the spooky glow and merely rolled her eyes while her husband's gaze slid this way and that—exactly the way he looks when he is caught out on something.

"What's this?" George reached for a stiff, tan coloured rectangle on the compartment floor, turning it over in one hand while playing his light over the surface. "I swear it was not here before—I think someone tossed it in when the door opened."

"And did you hear that screech? Sent a chill through me it did, especially this close to Halloween!" Henry also looked at what seemed to be an envelope suspiciously, taking it from George. "How odd." He peered closely at some writing. "It says 'D-7' on the back flap, but it is not addressed to anyone."

"May I?" William requested it, examining the outside carefully with his hand-held, when the lights came glaring back on. Everyone blinked as their eyes readjusted.

"Here, now. Let me see that." Brackenreid put out a meaty hand, into which his detective reluctantly surrendered the item.

"Shall we assume it is for us? Perhaps a message from the unreachable beyond?" Henry asked with a rather excited face.

"Oh! Don't be so dramatic, Henry, that is absurd! I am certain it was left by the previous occupants of the compartment," George chastised. "Perhaps under the seat and just slid out when the train went bump. You are letting your imagination run away with you…" George was subject to five sets of disbelieving eyes this time, and merely shrugged. "I mean All Hallows' Eve is not for a couple weeks yet, so the Spirits are still confined to the afterworld and cannot possibly be up to any mischief…."

William coughed.

The sound of ripping paper brought everyone's attention to Inspector Brackenreid, who uncovered one yellow, very translucent page from the envelope. He fetched his reading glasses and silently scanned the writing while his companions held their breath.

Impatient as usual, Julia was the first to demand an answer. "Well, Inspector, what does it say? Tell us please to solve this mystery. And do be careful, it looks like the page is… well it looks like it is dissolving!"

Brackenreid harrumphed and began: "It reads: Dear Commander Briggs, the Imperial Mandate Squad's assignment is to prevent Mr. Fessenden's prototype from falling into the wrong hands. Malthus Owens, a shadowy international thief, plans to steal and sell it to the highest bidder via a 'Zanzibar Marketplace' scheme. We believe several interested parties have already been assassinated or otherwise eliminated. We understand there are only three remaining potential buyers who will board the train: Ivan Korsky from the Russian Tsar; Gerhard Kleinhart representing Kaiser Wilhelm; and Frances Honore De la Roche, Morocco's emissary. Each has paid one thousand dollars on behalf of their respective governments just to be included in the bidding, with the winner being guaranteed to receive the stolen device after the train arrives in New York...

…Your task, is to allow the thief, the winning bidder and the losing bidders all to believe that the transaction was successful, while securing Mr. Fessenden's device for His Majesty's government. No one must know of the threat, including the Canadian Officers who are in charge of the device until it is given over to the Lord Admiralty once the train arrives in New York. You will find dossiers on the thief and each of the bidders secreted in your quarters, and your standard selection of supplies and equipment marked in the usual way. I am sure you understand the gravity of the situation if that device were to fall into the wrong hands. If you fail your assignment, the Prime Minister authorizes you to destroy the baggage cars to obliterate the prototype. As usual, if you or any one of your squad members is captured or killed, the Home Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. Good luck, Commander…"

George was stunned. "Inspector! That sounds quite fantastical."

Brackenreid swore again, more or less under his breath out of respect for the ladies (and to avoid his wife's elbow.) "The British Empire, Morocco, Germany and Russia all competing for an advantage. There is already an international crisis going on over Morocco. Will this invention bring on a new war?"

"Sir…" William cautioned. "Your hands…"

Engrossed by the message, no one noticed the page on which it was written had become a limp and sticky mess with holes wherever the inspector had touched it. Julia had been right—the page was indeed melting. Trying to let go of it only resulted in more shearing. William gave the inspector a handkerchief in an effort to save the sheet, but that only proceeded to muddle it even more. By the time they were done, only a canary-coloured stain remained on the linen square and on Brackenreid's hands. The compartment smelled like a citrus cordial. "Doctor, what is this?" he asked.

"Good Gracious!' Julia exclaimed. "How extraordinary. Inspector, I believe that was made out of something akin to Jell-O. A thin sheet of gelatin, which started reacting to the heat and moisture of your hands and in the air…"

Before anyone could stop him, Brackenreid licked his fingers. "Aye. Lemon. And not very good." He smacked his lips. "Too sweet."

"Thomas! Never mind that. What on earth is going on here?" Margaret, ever practical, summoned her husband out of his reverie. "Who is Mr. Briggs and what preposterous thing has he got to do with us?"

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So- reviews gratefully accepted (you can wait 'till the end) but if I managed to amuse, even get a LOL, I want to know.