Murder on the Orion Express

Virgil Black

"More!" Virgil Black slammed his hand down hard on the bar.

"Would you like the same again, sir?"

"Of course the bloody same. Get a move on, man." The bar man nodded and reached to the shelf above his head for a new whiskey tumbler.

"Hells bells, use the same bloody glass, come on!" Black banged the bar again. With the air of a consummate professional, the bar man straightened his shoulders, and with one arm behind his back refilled Black's glass with a perfect measure of Scottish single malt whiskey.

In the opposite corner of the bar, Matteo Frankenstein and Patrick Gudmunson were passing the time playing with a deck of old fashioned cards.

"Looks like the comfort of the Express isn't proving to be particularly relaxing for him," Frankenstein said with a smirk. He was a young man in his twenties, well dressed in an immaculately tailored pinstripe suit. His companion was of a similar age, but there the similarities ended. In contrast to Frankenstein, everything about Gudmunson was a little rough, from his unshaven face, to the ruffled shirt with the button missing. Although travelling separately, the two men had naturally gravitated towards each other. Gudmunson threw his cards down on the table, exasperated by the complexities of the rules.

"Don't you know who he is?" asked Frankenstein.

"Can't say I do."

"That is Virgil Black, war hero."

Recognition dawned on Gudmunson's face. "Black? Black. Yes, I know the name from the news reports. Some sort of commander in the Chian wars. On the Earth side, of course."

"That's the man. He was involved in some of the bloodiest battles of the war. They say he would do anything for a victory. Anything." Gudmunson left the word hang, for added effect. Seemingly realising he was being talked about, Black shot them a look. Unperturbed, Frankenstein called out to him.

"Not much to do on board is there? Would you like to join us for a game, old chap?" Gudmunson kicked him fiercely under the table. Black grabbed his drink, staggered somewhat to their table and sat down.

"I'm Matteo Frankenstein and this is Patrick Gudmunson. Not my real name, of course, but in my line of work, one needs to stand out from the crowd." Frankenstein thrust out his well-manicured hand in greeting, which Black grabbed and almost crushed such was the strength of his grip. "Always a pleasure to meet such a distinguished member of our armed forces. Can I get you another drink?"

"Sure, why not."

Frankenstein gestured to the bar man. "So, what brings you on board the Orion Express, Commander Black?"

"Ex-Commander Black. My army days are done," drawled Black from under his dark eyes. "And what I'm doing on the Express is my business."

Frankenstein continued to smile. "I quite understand. The war wasn't a very pleasant business from what I read. I'm an influencer myself. I get paid for wearing certain clothes and promoting products. Not really in your league I'm afraid, but it pays well. My sponsors aren't particularly happy that I'm off-grid for a few days, but everyone needs a break sometimes." Turning to Gudmunson, he asked, "And what about you, Patrick? Tell us, what's your business?"

Seemingly uncomfortable in Black's presence, Gudmunson picked up the cards and began to deal a new game. "Antiques," he said quietly. "I buy and sell old electronics."

"Fascinating. Simply fascinating. Quite a lucrative area, I'm sure."

"You have no idea," replied Gudmunson cryptically.