know him.’
‘Is he wearing an eye patch?’
‘Don’t be silly! We’ve seen him before!’
The man stopped once before entering a doorway, checking behind to see if he had
been followed. He was tall, with a grey moustache. He does look familiar, Jack thought,
his memory returning to the previous evening and the attempted attack in Barcelona. It’s the man who lured us from the bar!
Jack grabbed Scarlet’s sleeve. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We need to keep him in sight.’
‘What about Mr Doyle?’
‘You can wait here, if you want.’
‘Not a chance.’
They scrambled up a staircase and raced down a corridor, just in time to see the
man descending a flight of stairs. He left the building, glancing back once again,
but Jack and Scarlet ducked behind a column.
‘Did he see us?’ Jack asked.
‘I don’t think so.’
They followed him down the steep hill. Trees gave shade on both sides of the path.
A few tourists walking uphill had parasols to shield themselves from the late afternoon
sun.
The man disappeared around a corner into a car park filled with vehicles of all types:
small airships, steamcars and horse-drawn carriages. An old man fed oats to his old
brown horse. Two small children chased each other around while their parents loaded
picnic baskets into the back of a steamcar.
‘I don’t see him,’ Jack said.
The vehicles were parked so close to each other they were almost touching. There
was no sign of the man with the grey moustache. Then Jack caught sight of him: heading
down another road further away from the palace.
Jack and Scarlet spent the next half hour trailing him until they reached a train
station. It was part of a whole new rail network that had been recently built across
Spain over the last few years. Crowds were streaming in and out of an egg-shaped
entrance made of iron and glass. Most of them were workers heading home for the day.
After the man paid for a train ticket, Scarlet purchased two: for herself and Jack.
They trailed him down a flight of stairs to the underground, a hot tunnel stretching
into the darkness.
‘Where are we going?’ Jack asked.
‘I have no idea. My Spanish is poor, but I pretended we were with the other man and
needed tickets.’
They hid behind a pylon, keeping an eye on the man. It was less crowded down here.
A board listed a number of stations, the most distant being the southern town La
Zubia.
‘Mr Doyle will be wondering what happened to us,’ Jack said. ‘Maybe you should go
back and tell him I’m following Moustache.’
‘Where you go, I go.’
‘Still, he’ll be worried.’
‘I know. I wish we could have left him a message.’ Scarlet snapped her fingers. ‘I
know what I should have done. There’s a Brinkie Buckeridge story where she rips a
piece of her skirt off, leaving a trail of thread that Dudley Dusseldorf follows.’
‘Scarlet, you’ll be wandering around in your underwear if you do that.’
‘True,’ Scarlet admitted, frowning. ‘Brinkie must wear very thick dresses.’
A train pulled in, belching smoke and steam. Jack and Scarlet boarded, careful to
keep the man in sight. If he was part of the Valkyrie Circle, he might be on his
way to their hideout, Jack thought. We might be able to corner the whole gang. This
could be finished by day’s end.
An hour later, the train reached its final destination—La Zubia. The railway station
was in the heart of a small town filled with squat earth-coloured buildings. It was
late now and Jack was feeling hungry as they followed the man up a road that led
away from town.
‘Where’s he going?’ Scarlet said.
‘To visit his ageing granny,’ Jack said. ‘How would I know?’
The road veered off to a path that wound around a hill before plunging into a deep
valley. Jack and Scarlet stayed as far back as possible without losing sight of the
man.
At the top of a crest was an abandoned-looking house. Several windows were broken,
and some tiles were missing from the roof.
‘Is he wearing an eye patch?’
‘Don’t be silly! We’ve seen him before!’
The man stopped once before entering a doorway, checking behind to see if he had
been followed. He was tall, with a grey moustache. He does look familiar, Jack thought,
his memory returning to the previous evening and the attempted attack in Barcelona. It’s the man who lured us from the bar!
Jack grabbed Scarlet’s sleeve. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We need to keep him in sight.’
‘What about Mr Doyle?’
‘You can wait here, if you want.’
‘Not a chance.’
They scrambled up a staircase and raced down a corridor, just in time to see the
man descending a flight of stairs. He left the building, glancing back once again,
but Jack and Scarlet ducked behind a column.
‘Did he see us?’ Jack asked.
‘I don’t think so.’
They followed him down the steep hill. Trees gave shade on both sides of the path.
A few tourists walking uphill had parasols to shield themselves from the late afternoon
sun.
The man disappeared around a corner into a car park filled with vehicles of all types:
small airships, steamcars and horse-drawn carriages. An old man fed oats to his old
brown horse. Two small children chased each other around while their parents loaded
picnic baskets into the back of a steamcar.
‘I don’t see him,’ Jack said.
The vehicles were parked so close to each other they were almost touching. There
was no sign of the man with the grey moustache. Then Jack caught sight of him: heading
down another road further away from the palace.
Jack and Scarlet spent the next half hour trailing him until they reached a train
station. It was part of a whole new rail network that had been recently built across
Spain over the last few years. Crowds were streaming in and out of an egg-shaped
entrance made of iron and glass. Most of them were workers heading home for the day.
After the man paid for a train ticket, Scarlet purchased two: for herself and Jack.
They trailed him down a flight of stairs to the underground, a hot tunnel stretching
into the darkness.
‘Where are we going?’ Jack asked.
‘I have no idea. My Spanish is poor, but I pretended we were with the other man and
needed tickets.’
They hid behind a pylon, keeping an eye on the man. It was less crowded down here.
A board listed a number of stations, the most distant being the southern town La
Zubia.
‘Mr Doyle will be wondering what happened to us,’ Jack said. ‘Maybe you should go
back and tell him I’m following Moustache.’
‘Where you go, I go.’
‘Still, he’ll be worried.’
‘I know. I wish we could have left him a message.’ Scarlet snapped her fingers. ‘I
know what I should have done. There’s a Brinkie Buckeridge story where she rips a
piece of her skirt off, leaving a trail of thread that Dudley Dusseldorf follows.’
‘Scarlet, you’ll be wandering around in your underwear if you do that.’
‘True,’ Scarlet admitted, frowning. ‘Brinkie must wear very thick dresses.’
A train pulled in, belching smoke and steam. Jack and Scarlet boarded, careful to
keep the man in sight. If he was part of the Valkyrie Circle, he might be on his
way to their hideout, Jack thought. We might be able to corner the whole gang. This
could be finished by day’s end.
An hour later, the train reached its final destination—La Zubia. The railway station
was in the heart of a small town filled with squat earth-coloured buildings. It was
late now and Jack was feeling hungry as they followed the man up a road that led
away from town.
‘Where’s he going?’ Scarlet said.
‘To visit his ageing granny,’ Jack said. ‘How would I know?’
The road veered off to a path that wound around a hill before plunging into a deep
valley. Jack and Scarlet stayed as far back as possible without losing sight of the
man.
At the top of a crest was an abandoned-looking house. Several windows were broken,
and some tiles were missing from the roof.
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