Revving motors, squeaking car breaks, and loud honking, is how the days start. Mr. Jack Enchin, who was usually late in the morning, was already seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stick our client had left behind him the night before. Enchin was jotting some points in his case file, wherein he writes all the fine details of all the matter. Well right now he wasn’t working on any case; well; that's at least what I know, he hasn't told me anything yet. Jack and I have been friends since quite a long time, we share an apartment. I practise medicine.
“Err, we are expecting a client, um, of course, we’ll hop on to an even more intriguing case. That is Case 54. Well, it is linked to the recently happening thefts at the museum.” - he spoke, now aware of me entering.
“Wouldn't mind a toast, but a little quicker, mate.”, I said, leaning against the doorframe.
We ate some bread and milk and Enchin inquired whether I would like to accompany him to the Station, before our due encounter with our client. “Off we go.” I pronounced. Enchin finished examining the stick, got up, put his detective coat on, and we went along. He just cannot do without his green-black checkered, classic tweed coat,as if it was his charm that helped him unravel mysteries.
Oh! The sun was blazing, casting light upon Scotland. I guess our nation is a great hub for all kinds of crime as much as it is a detective's hub. From burglary to assaults, murders to even forgery. Well my friend, Jack is one of the greatest detectives, he is a Private eye, and people seek him for solving each of their mysteries. My friend is much of an intellectual. He could even start spying for any peculiarity outside the station, or in the shops in the streets. So just as we scrolled down the street, we reached the station, right there before the vintage foyer(entrance). I had no clue as to why we were there, or for what. As Jack gesticulated me to continue walking in.
We continued our stroll inside the station. Our eyes upon the famous orient express train, officially from Scotland to London, quite a different structure, that of a smoke train of the ‘Elizabethan’ times, very royal for Queen Elizabeth herself. An exquisite amalgamation of pure richness and vintage, It was wearing an old design though, ‘The Scotrail’, yes of course, spacious for all clans, its carriages about a dozen as far as my eyes could gaze, its windows glinted the sun's fresh rays. As for the station, it was a little less crowded, but not completely deserted. I was happy to have finally seen the train, it drenched me with its sheer beauty. Enchin spoke, “Our client, the secretary of the rich owner of a museum, claims that mysteriously; after the theft of some iconic clothes the cane was the only part of the exhibit that was left out.”
Now understanding the purpose of it, we started our journey of Case 54. I saw someone approaching us, heading in our direction. In the meantime, Jack had a crash with the approaching figure, he bumped and fell to the ground. And with a glimpse of the hooded figure, we could tell he was tall, strongly built, heavy, and possessed all the qualities of a bodyguard. Also not to mention, well-armed. Jack straightened up, and suddenly, as Jack saw him, the figure alarmingly broke off into a sprint. “You!” cried Jack almost immediately, and started running after him. What was going on, I couldn't take it, yet I followed them too. The passengers, wide-eyed, witnessed the audience to this cat-and-rat chase. Could this possibly be connected to the case, silly thoughts raced through my mind, could I be of any help, I was nevertheless too slow, and the figure was faster. Jack precisely caught up with him; with becoming a detective also comes the aspect of stamina, for these kinds of wild-goose chases, for what if it was not the guy expected?
The whole station was alert, taken aback. However Jack, not giving up, determined his prediction of what he saw, he was always a hair's distance away from the hooded figure, yet he was always too late. The whole station was at a standstill, and the security charges went up tight, but Jack and the guy were still on the marathon of life and death, scurrying past the station. The scene became even more alarming when the red flag waved, indicating the departure of the waiting train. The people at the back, whom we passed by, were back to their normal, bidding a goodbye to their loved ones. What else could have happened, but the hooded figure was close to the train doors. He hoisted himself up, caught hold of the handlebar in the door-pane, kept up with his pace, and with all his might, somehow managed to push himself in. “ What luck!”, I exclaimed.
“Just came out of nowhere, and nearly escaped. Jack, are you alright?” I asked. He was resenting all this, sweat collected on his moustache. “Was that goose-chase after that guy, connected to Case 54, indeed that guy seemed dodgy?” I asked. Jack only sighed, and leaned on the lamp. The only words he uttered were, “We were close, so close!”
Never before had I seen a look so hopeless on his face.
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