The Chemickal Marriage

–’
    ‘You mean if I kill him?’ Chang reached for the door. ‘I’ll find you as soon as I can.’
    ‘And if you don’t?’ asked Cunsher.
    ‘Acquit yourselves well,’ Chang replied. ‘It’s the end of the world, after all.’
    He entered the rearmost carriage to find Jack Pfaff, in his orange coat and chequered trousers, slouched against the far door. Pfaff held up a finger for silence, and pointed to the line of compartments that lay between them. In spite of their earlier provocations Pfaff’s sharp face showed a smile, as if they were allies, or at least men who shared a common goal.
    Chang began to walk, stick held ready. He glanced into the first compartment: six men of business, cases gripped across their laps. Pfaff ambled forward as well, hands empty. Chang reached the second compartment: women of differing ages and too many children. The youngest boy lay cradled across the lap of a dark-skinned maid, his legs wrapped with bandages.
    Pfaff came nearer. The third compartment held at least ten people, women in the seats and men standing. The curtains on the fourth compartment door were drawn. Pfaff halted at its other side, perhaps ten feet away.
    ‘Joined the clergy, I see.’
    ‘Where is she, Jack?’
    ‘Which
she
do you mean?’ Pfaff nodded at the walking stick. ‘No room to swing. You’re hampered.’
    ‘Do you think?’ Chang took a sudden step forward. Pfaff just as quickly fell back, though his teasing smile remained.
    ‘Go in.’ Pfaff’s gaze darted past Chang, to the end of the corridor. ‘While there’s time.’
    ‘You coming in with me?’
    ‘I’ll wait. Following instructions.’
    ‘You always do, don’t you, Jack? Until you stop following them.’
    Pfaff’s lips split in a childish grin. ‘
Precisamente
.’
    Chang rapped the head of his walking stick against the fourth compartment door and entered. The occupants looked up, but Chang paid them no mind, stepping quickly from the doorway. He did not put it past Pfaff to have apistol and fire through the glass. But no shot came. Chang glanced at Madelaine Kraft, then at Mahmoud, whose hand made a polished revolver look like a toy. The third man he did not know, crowded in the opposite row of seats, between boxes tied with rope.
    ‘That is Mr Kelling,’ explained Mrs Kraft.
    ‘You’re Cardinal Chang!’ The angular Kelling pushed himself back into his seat, all elbows and knees. He wore the clothes of a clerk, but there was a bandage around his wrist and a deepening bruise across his jaw.
    ‘Difficult day all round,’ observed Chang; then to Mahmoud, at the window: ‘
Sit
.’
    ‘Not while you –’
    Before Mahmoud could finish Chang’s hand was around Madelaine Kraft’s throat. ‘Sit or we’ll start settling things the wrong way.’
    ‘Mahmoud …’ Mrs Kraft said gently. The dark man shoved the pistol into a pocket of his long coat and perched on the very edge of his seat, poised to fling himself onto Chang. Kelling did not stir. Chang released his grip. Mrs Kraft stretched her neck and studied Chang. He found the scrutiny unwelcome.
    ‘Robert Vandaariff will die,’ he announced, ‘but without care his death will only deliver his world, everyone’s world, to idiot children. Your desire for revenge risks disaster.’
    Madelaine Kraft raised her eyebrows at his hard tone. ‘You’ve changed.’
    ‘Not at all. You no longer have anything I want.’
    ‘I don’t have the
same
thing.’
    Chang let this go; there wasn’t time. ‘Tell me what you’ve planned with Schoepfil.’
    She smiled at him. ‘Who is that?’
    ‘Are you so confident?’ Chang asked. ‘You were cast into a pit, and saved by the rarest chance.’
    ‘Which is why –’
    ‘Why you should realize your enemy is as strong as ever – no, far stronger, with the wealth of the world to ensure his safety. He searches for you, even now. Recovery makes you an especially rare species, to be displayed in a jar of spirits, post-dissection.’
    ‘Take him in hand!’ Mr Kelling whispered to Mahmoud. ‘He is vital to Lord Vandaariff’s plans!’
    Chang slapped the metal head of the cane into a box, just wide of Kelling’s hand. Kelling yanked the hand into his lap.
    ‘Bronque and Schoepfil ransacked the Old Palace today,’ Chang said. ‘Michel Gorine is not two carriages away, beaten to pieces – he will gladly inform you of your error.’
    Mahmoud made to stand, but Mrs Kraft only tilted her head. ‘Michel’s opinion is not mine