The trunk didn’t open.

The lock in the middle had been clicked. The porter must have done it on the train.

“Dan!” she whispered frantically. “Can you hear me?”

“Open it!” She heard a thump as he kicked the top.

“I can’t! It’s locked!”

“Stick it!”

“Stick it?”

“Not stick it! Pick it!”

Amy glanced over quickly. The lady in the hat gestured for the porter to hurry. The young man had stopped at a vendor and was paying for a sausage roll. She had seconds before the porter would come for the trunk.

She dove for Dan’s backpack. The slender piece of metal lay right on top of his rolled-up T-shirts. She stuck it in the lock and wiggled it. Nothing happened.

“It’s not working!”

“Wiggle it!”

“I’m wiggling!”

Desperately, she reached for Dan’s multi-tool. She shoved the metal pick between the lock and the trunk. She held it steady, then brought down the hammer with all her strength.

The lock blew. Springs rolled along the platform. The lock pinged as it hit the concrete.

Dan peeked out. “That’s one way to do it.”

“Come on!” Amy yanked on his arm, pulling him out, and slammed the lid shut. In another ten seconds, the porter would be there. “As soon as he sees the broken lock, he’ll start asking questions. They could arrest us for stealing those clothes!”

Dan looked around quickly. “We’ve got to cross the tracks to the other platform.”

They heard the sound of a whistle as a train began to roll into the station.

Amy paled.

“And we have to do it right now!” Dan grabbed his pack and shoved Amy’s at her. She felt the vibration of the oncoming train under her feet.

A train began to slide into the station. They jumped onto the track. Amy felt as though she were moving in slow motion. All those months and months of hard training didn’t seem to help her legs move when fear was draining her of strength. The people on the opposite platform turned slowly to look, their mouths open.