Grk Undercover Read Online Free Page B

to wait for the next train.
    When the doors closed and the train started moving, Tim found himself squashed between two fat men who smelled of sweat and onions. Natascha was flattened against a window. Things were even worse for Grk. Several people trod on him and not one of them apologized.
    When the train finally arrived at King’s Cross, passengers poured out onto the platform, sweeping Tim and Natascha and Grk out of the train with them. Luckily, King’s Cross was where they wanted to get out, so they didn’t have to fight their way back on. They allowed themselves to be pushed toward the exit by the flow of passengers.
    When the crowds thinned, Tim, Grk and Natascha jogged down one corridor, then another, dodging round commuters, and reached the escalators. Natascha grabbed Grk in her arms and carried him to the top.
    The escalators deposited the three of them in the ticket hall. They went through the barriers and followed the signs to St. Pancras.
    The high-ceilinged station was packed with people. A voice boomed from the loudspeakers, announcing arrivals and departures, telling passengers when the next trains left for Brussels and Paris.
    Tim and Natascha looked around, wondering where to go next. Tim was the first to see a sign saying TICKET OFFICE.
    “That way,” he said, pointing to the sign. “Let’s go and get our tickets.”
    Natascha glanced at her watch. “We’re going to miss the train.”
    “We’ll be fine,” said Tim, trying to sound more confident than he really felt. “We’ve got lots of time.”
    In a lobby outside the ticket hall, Tim fed his dad’s credit card into a silver machine. It groaned and moaned, then spat out two tickets.
    They emerged from the lobby and hurried toward the platforms, following the signs that said EUROSTAR. Smart restaurants and fancy boutiques lined the station, but Tim and Natascha hardly even glanced atthe window displays. They didn’t have the time or the money to go shopping.
    They showed their tickets at the barrier and took turns to pass through a metal detector, then joined the line for Passport Control.
    A man in a black uniform glanced at the photos in the back of Tim’s and Natascha’s passports, then checked the stamps in Grk’s. He took a long look at the three of them. They stared back at him. Finally, the passport officer nodded.
    “Have a good trip,” he said. “Next, please!”
    Tim, Natascha and Grk hurried onward. They went up a long escalator that led to the platforms. Once again, Natascha held Grk in her arms till they got to the top. Then she put Grk on the ground and they jogged along the platform.
    They stopped at carriage number 12. An inspector checked Tim and Natascha’s tickets, making sure that they had come to the right place, then ushered them aboard.
    “Bon voyage,”
said the inspector. “Have a good trip.”
    “Thanks,” said Tim and stepped into the train. Grk leaped after him. Natascha came last.
    They walked down the carriage and found their seats.
    Natascha sat down. Tim sat opposite her. Grk crawled under his feet.
    “We made it,” said Tim.
    “Just,” said Natascha.
    A couple of minutes later, the doors slid shut and the train eased out of the station.

Chapter 11
    A voice came from the loudspeakers, booming along the entire length of the train, informing passengers that the journey to Paris would take two hours and twenty minutes. The meal car would open soon, said the voice, and would be serving all kinds of sandwiches and snacks as well as a full range of hot and cold drinks.
    Natascha leaned forward and said, “Are you hungry?”
    “Not really,” said Tim. “But I wouldn’t mind something to eat. Shall we go to the meal car?”
    “We don’t have to,” said Natascha. “We’ve got our own private buffet right here.” She opened the flap of her backpack, took out some bananas and some chocolate, and shared them equally between Tim and herself. They ate slowly, savoring every mouthful.
    Down on the