Katrien clutched the faded hardbound book to her chest, dodging around the other passenger's crowding the train car's aisle. Her mother would be mad at her for dawdling, and she could already hear the scolding to come, but at least it would make her forget about the songbook for the moment. She hugged the book even tighter, relieved to finally have it back in her arms again and smiling at the faint scent of cigar smoke that drifted up from its damp pages. Granted they had other copies of her sheet music that she used for the performances, but none of them evoked the memories of home that the book did. A book that was growing ever more precious the further they traveled from Germany, now that her mother had told her they wouldn't be returning.

She leaned heavily on the door leading to the next car, hoping to budge it open just enough for her to slip through. All the traveling that they had been doing lately was exciting, but she missed Vati. Her mother had been in such a rush to leave that she wasn't able to say good-bye....

The door opened abruptly, and Katrien stumbled through it, catching a quick glimpse of a man in chains before strong hands caught her. "Are you all right, lass? What's the hurry?"

She blinked up at the police officer before her, struggling to understand his thick Scottish accent. Remembering the man in chains, she peered around the policeman looking at the cubicle that he had disappeared into. A soft sing song voice drifted through the thin door, whatever was being said was un-intelligible and child like, spoken to a 'friend'.

The officer followed her gaze and smiled, his badge and the keys at his belt flashing in the late afternoon sun as the train rocked along. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about him, love. He's harmless: couldn't hurt a fly. Now why don't you run along now, eh? I bet your parent's are looking for you."

Katrien shot him a quick glance, relieved at being able to escape. She shivered unconsciously as she hurried on to the next car. Harmless or not, she didn't like the tone in the prisoner's voice, not at all.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Keel settled into his seat on the train, after pausing briefly to toss his bags into the luggage rack above. He pulled off his gloves and glanced out the frost-covered window next to him, watching the world speed by in a blur of yellow-green and gray skies. Bells rang, faint and metallic sounding as they neared train crossings, and faded quickly into silence as they roared on by.

They stopped at small country station to let off passengers, and pick up a small group of young women. They breezed pass him in a swirl of gaudy colors and heavy jackets, glancing back at him with inviting looks. One even dropped her purse by him in the aisle, but he ignored the attempt at contact, continuing to stare out the window. His own reflection stared back at him: curly black hair fell into his eyes, troubled orbs of gray green ringed by faint shadows, reminders of the sleep that had evaded him the past few nights. A slight beard was beginning on his cheeks and he rubbed at his jaw wondering how women still managed to find him attractive in this worn out state. His mother, a dead shade of the past, had told him that he was handsome often enough when he was a boy, jokingly warning him against breaking too many hearts. His mind flinched away from the memory of her loving face, and he sighed to himself. Soon he would be back at Gloucester, and he could put this whole sorry affair behind him.

The young businessman across from him snorted, his face sour with envy. Something chirped from inside his briefcase and he pulled out a large beige handset with a thick antenna on top. The girls giggled amongst themselves as the businessman began to speak loudly and repeat himself to the contraption he was holding. Keel watched the scene out of the corner of his eye, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Yet another infernal machine that would probably end up making his job worse.

The businessman smiled at Keel, misjudging his disdain for an expression of interest. "It's a new device. They're thinking of calling it a mobile phone."

Keel stared at him, "A what?"

"A mobile phone. It's really quite great actually, see you can take it with you anywhere and use it to call someone somewhere else, without having to hike to the nearest pub or public telephone." He handed it to Keel, watching the priest closely as he turned it over, inspecting it. "It'll be the next big thing by the end of the year."

"And you can call anybody on it from anywhere?"

"Oh, aye. That was just my..." The businessman flashed a quick look at the girls behind him, clearing his througt noisily. "That was just my wife, calling to tell me that she got the tickets for that big Katrien Van Helt concert tonight. You've heard about her haven't you? Germany's famous little songbird?"

Keel shook his head, unable to believe that he was encouraging the conversation, "I haven't had time to pay attention to the... arts as of late."

"Well, I can imagine that you've better things to do with your time, being a priest and all. I wouldn't pay any attention to that stuff either, but my wife..." The man rolled his eyes heavenward, "Apparently this girl's really something: my wife swears that she sings just like an angel. You should see her when I get back from work sometimes, she'll have this girl's records turned way up loud, to the point that you can hear it blocks away..."

*~*~*~*~*~*

A man watched the two guards across from him intently, rocking side to side slightly as the train moved along. The chains restraining his wrists and ankles clinked with the movement, alternating between reflecting his drab uniform or the bright cabin lights above. He stared on unflinchingly, ignoring the occasional sound of cards being shuffled, his lips moving constantly in an unceasing murmur.

The guards ignored him for the most part, caught up in a friendly game of poker punctuated suddenly by a groan of defeat or a shout of triumph. Twice the older of the two had stood and checked their prisoner's chains before disappearing into the corridor running the length of the car, only to return smelling of cigarette smoke and whiskey. The prisoner was silently surprised that the younger guard didn't take advantage of these 'breaks' and check to see what cards his partner had considering the bad luck he'd been having: but the boy would merely sit and watch him, relaxing only when the older officer returned.

Fresh from the academy, that one, the prisoner thought, his smile turning feral. He'd be on his toes, expecting something to happen, but his lack of experience made him gullible. Now the oldest guard could be a problem, normally the older ones were harder to fool, but the liquid in his hip flask was quickly working against him, making him sloppier.

This would be easier than he'd originally thought.

A little voice awoke in the back of his mind. Just a little bit longer, soon it will be time.

The older guard stood abruptly, tossing his keys to his partner. The boy caught them deftly, his expression slightly stunned as he stared up at the Scot. "Where are you going?"

"To get lunch. I saw a dinner car at the back of the train while we were loading, and we've still got a ways to go before we reach Birmingham."

"But we're both supposed to be with him at all times..."

The prisoner smiled, beginning to hum, and the older guard threw him a quick look, gesturing vaguely. "Look at him, d'you think he'll try anything in that shape? It's the quiet ones you have to watch for, not the loony birds."

The boy sighed, rubbing at his face and tossing his cards to the ground. "Fine, bring me back a Guinness then, will you?"

The Scot laughed, then imitated the boys voice, "But we aren't allowed to drink on the job!"

"Doesn't seem to be stopping you."

"Aye, you're right about that. One Guinness it is then." He slipped through the door laughing as he went.

The prisoner's smile grew.

Soon. Very very soon.

*~*~*~*~*

Keel rolled his eyes heavenward, silently praying for patience and regretting the fact that he had let the conversation continue for this long. The businessman continued to prattle on, telling him about a two- headed calf he'd seen once as a boy. It was because of topics like this that he no longer mentioned his occupation, or spoke to strangers at all, for that matter either.

A police officer passed them, waving on his feet slightly as he headed forward, a bottle of Guinness in either hand. The party girls giggled amongst themselves at his appearance, then again when he stumbled before finally disappearing into the next car.

The businessman snorted. "Well he was on his way to being roaring drunk wasn't he?"

Keel only nodded, the hair standing up on the back of his neck. "I don't remember there being an officer on the platform at the station before last."

"There wasn't, and that wasn't a policeman: he was wearing a prison guards uniform." The man's grimace hinted at his having some experience knowing this, something Keel was slightly surprised that hadn't been mentioned in the past hour. "Weren't they going to be transporting some convict or something soon?"

"I...."

"...Wouldn't know," the businessman finished for him. "You should pay more attention to the news. There's a great deal of interesting stuff going on in the world, my friend."

The train shuddered suddenly, the lights flickering before going off entirely. Keel felt himself thrown forward, his head colliding with the seat in front of him, then everything went black.