The Irish Mail rushed through the night. Or, morecorrectly through the darkness of the early morning hours.
At intervals the diesel engine gave its weirdbanshee warning cry. It was travelling at well over eighty miles an hour. It was on time.
Then, with some suddenness, the pace slackened asthe brakes came on. The wheels screamed as they gripped the metals. Slower… slower…. The guard put his head out of the windownoting the red signal ahead as the train came to a final halt. Some of the passengers wokeup. Most did not.
One elderly lady, alarmed by the suddenness of thedeceleration, opened the door and looked out along the corridor. A little way along one ofthe doors to the line was open. An elderly cleric with a thatch of thick white hair wasclimbing up from the permanent way. She presumed he had previously climbed down to theline to investigate.
The morning air was distinctly chilly. Someone atthe end of the corridor said: "Only a signal." The elderly lady withdrew into her compartment and tried to go to sleepagain.
Farther up the line, a man waving a lantern wasrunning towards the train from a signal box. The fireman climbed down from the engine. Theguard who had descended from the train came along to join him. The man with the lanternarrived, rather short of breath and spoke in a series of gasps.
"Bad crash ahead….Goods train detailed…」
The engine driver looked out of his cab, thenclimbed down also to join the others.
At the rear of the train, six men who had justclimbed up the embankment boarded the train through a door left open for them in the lastcoach. Six passengers from different coaches met them. With well-rehearsed speed, theyproceeded to take charge of the postal van, isolating it from the rest of the train. Twomen in Balaclava helmets at front and rear of the compartment stood on guard, coshes inhand.
A man in railway uniform went forward along thecorridor of the stationary train, uttering explanations to such as demanded them.
"Block on the line ahead. Ten minutes' delay, maybe, not much more…." It sounded friendly and reassuring.
By the engine, the driver and the fireman lay neatlygagged and trussed up. The man with the lantern called out:
"Everything O.K. here."
The guard lay by the embankment, similarly gaggedand tied.
The expert cracksmen in the postal van had donetheir work. Two more neatly trussed bodies lay on the floor. The special mailbags sailedout to where other men on the embankment awaited them.
In their compartments, passengers grumbled to eachother that the railways were not what they used to be.
Then, as they settled themselves to sleep again,there came through the darkness the roar of an exhaust.
"Goodness," murmured awoman. "Is that a jet plane?"
"Racing car, I should say."
The roar died away….
On the Bedhampton Motorway, nine miles away, asteady stream of night lorries was grinding its way north. A big white racing car flashedpast them.
Ten minutes later, it turned off the motorway.
The garage on the corner of the B road bore the singCLOSED. But the big doors swung open and the white car was driven straight in, the doorsclosing again behind it. Three men worked at lightning speed. A fresh set of numberplateswere attached. The driver changed his coat and cap. He had worn white sheepskin before.Now he wore black leather. He drove out again. Three minutes after his departure, an oldMorris Oxford, driven by a clergyman chugged out on to the road and proceeded to take aroute through various turning and twisting country lanes.
A station wagon, driven along a country road slowedup as it came upon an old Morris Oxford stationary by the hedge, with an elderly manstanding over it.
The driver of the station wagon put out a head.
"Having trouble? Can I help?"
"Very good of you. It'smy lights."
The two drivers approaches each other – listened. "All clear."
Various expensive American-style cases weretransferred from the Morris Oxford to the station wagon.
A mile or two farther on, the station wagon turnedoff on what looked like a rough track but which presently turned out to be the back way toa large and opulent mansion. In what had been a stableyard, a big white Mercedes car wasstanding. The driver of the station wagon opened its boot with a key, transferred thecases to the boot, and drove away again in the station wagon.
In a nearby farmyard a cock crowed noisily.
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