THE TRAIN HAD COME from London via Paris's Gare d'Austerlitz, traveling at the speed of 125 miles per hour, with scheduled stops at Limoges, Brive-La-Gaillarde, Cahors, and, ultimately, Toulouse, at 6:44 a.m. The stop at Limoges had taken place at 2:24 a.m.310Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmQMoJ18bct
The train rolled into the station at its next stop, Brive-la-Gaillarde, on schedule, sixty-four minutes later, at 3:28 a.m. The train passed under the bridge connecting the train terminal to the passenger platform. The platform was empty. A few minutes ago, there had been two people who were planning on getting on this train. Those people had been politely encouraged to leave.
The train stopped next to a platform covered by a pitched roof. The doors to the train opened with a hiss. Only three passengers disembarked. A black male, a white, gray-haired female, and a white male, who appeared to be in his twenties.
No big surprise that the number was small. Brive-la-Gaillarde was not full of tourist sites. The people disembarking were mostly likely residents. No, most people on this train were going all the way to the end, to Toulouse.
The police hadn't expected hadn't expected Mischa Barton to disembark here. The smart money, said she hoped to get to Toulouse, and from there to Barcelona, Spain. Getting out of the country would probably seem optimal to her, and besides, she spoke fluent Spanish.
But they couldn't count on that, obviously. They had to intercept her at the first stop after she got on at Limoges."
"Approach," said the operations commander from his perch, lying flat on top of the bridge under which the train had passed. Members of the RAID assault team, dressed in black, jumped down from their nearby posts and crept toward the train, holding their Baretta pistols out in front of them. Spotters at various points, using night-vision binoculars, monitored the inside of the train cars. No sign of Mischa Barton in any of the passenger cars. No evidence that she had moved out of her sleeping car.
Using a stolen Visa card, Mischa Barton had purchased a ticket in the couchette that was fourth from the end. A porter had confirmed that a woman matching Mischa's description, wearing a JRF guard's uniform, had embarked at Limoges-Benedictins.
Three members of the assault team entered the couchette for which Mischa Barton had bought her ticket. Others entered the adjoining cars on either side, in the event the target tried to flee.
The commandant waited, drumming his fingers on the bridge. They had no eyes in the couchette. All he could do was wait for word.
It came surprisingly quickly.
"She's not in there," came a voice through his earpiece.
The commandant didn't hesitate. "Take the train," he said. "All forces, take the train."
In the blink of an eye, powerful lights splashed over the train, like something on a Hollywood movie set. A helicopter appeared from the south and hovered overhead. Twenty local police officers joined with the elite ten-man RAID unit as they invaded all cars of the train at once, armed with Berettas or HK MP5 submachine guns.310Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFsMJXp3TBJ
They checked every seat. They checked baggage compartments. They checked bathrooms. They checked every sleeping car. They called out various status updates through their mikes and into the operation commander's earpiece.310Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs6e6GaKUki
When it was all done, twenty-three minutes had passed.310Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLShGmfOj8y
And Mischa Barton was nowhere to be found. 310Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb8QqKjfwf1
