The Stranger in Seat 14D – Part 1: Somebody Else's Passport

The passport was not hers. Hana knew that before she opened it, because the photograph was of a sharp-faced woman with silver earrings, and Hana had been wearing a cardigan and no jewellery since Paris.

She looked at the name. Lucia Brandt. She looked at the train ticket tucked inside the cover. Sleeper compartment six, carriage four, departing Paris Gare de l'Est at 22:14, arriving Venezia Santa Lucia at 10:02.

Her own ticket said compartment six too.

The train rattled through the dark. Outside, the lights of the French countryside slid past like a slow film reel, and the man in the opposite bunk turned a page of his book without looking up.

"That's not yours," he said quietly, in English.

Hana's heart jumped. "Excuse me?"

"The passport. You've been holding it for twenty minutes." He closed his book. He had a calm, watchful face and dark, tousled hair, and he wore a navy jumper that looked expensive without showing it. "It was in your jacket pocket when you got on. You picked it up by mistake at the station."

"I didn't pick anything up."

"Then someone put it there," said the man. "Which is worse."

She stared at him. He held her gaze, steady and unhurried.

"I'm Adrian," he said. "I'm a translator. I'm also, unfortunately, the only person on this train who knows what that passport is worth."

"And what is it worth?"

"Enough that two men in the next carriage have checked on our compartment three times since Dijon," Adrian said. "Enough that the conductor asked me last hour whether I'd seen a woman with silver earrings. I told him no."

Hana's mouth went dry. She closed the passport and held it on her knee. Her fingers were trembling.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'd rather you were scared and informed than scared and alone," he said. "Also, I'm not going to take it from you. But you should know who's watching."

The compartment door slid open a crack. A narrow face looked in, saw them both, and slid shut again.

Hana's breath caught. Adrian didn't move, but his whole body seemed to tighten, like a man listening for the next footstep on the stairs.

"Do you have a plan?" Hana whispered.

"I have a train timetable and an excellent sense of direction," said Adrian. "What I need is for you to trust me for the next six hours."

The train screeched around a bend. The passport slid against her knee.

Somewhere down the corridor, a door clicked shut.