“Lazare and said rapidly in his brisk university French, “I need to track a passenger who arrived here two hours ago on the Orient Express from Constantinople.” “I’m sorry, monsieur, that information is confidential. We do not share the passenger manifest with the public.” Kalid whipped a two hundred franc note from his vest pocket and shoved it under the man’s nose. The ticket seller snatched it and said, “You would have to see the stationmaster. His office is just beyond that arch.” Kalid ran ...in the indicated direction, passing through crowds of men and women dressed in the latest European fashions, past newsboys in corduroy jackets and felt caps hawking their wares, past peanut and ice cream vendors and the uniformed porters who seemed to be everywhere. He heard the distant rumble and hiss of an arriving train as he knocked on the frosted glass door marked “Maitre d’gare” and then yanked it open abruptly. The stationmaster looked up from his lunch of rondelet bread with sardines and brie and stared at Kalid in shock.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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