Blue Trains and Yellow Diamonds

I watched out the window as the train wound through the lush winelands like a brilliant blue snake. Further ahead on the track, a tunnel stood with a gaping mouth ready to lead us into the vastness of the Great Karoo desert. Our starting point, Cape Town, now lay far behind us.

I turned my focus from the golden framed scenery to the ipad on my lap, scrolling idly through an email that outlined my work assignment. I preferred to sit back and relax, but it always helped to be extra prepared. An older gentleman, who had claimed one of the plush chairs on the other side of the coffee table, looked up from his newspaper. “Is this your first time in South Africa?”

He spoke with a smooth, British accent. Between that and his expensive looking suit, he gave off wealthy, London vibes. Not surprising since this was a luxury train after all. 

“Yes. Olivia Grace, I’m a travel writer.” 

At least, that was my given profession for this week. My actual line of work - reformed jewel thief turned antiquities retriever - always proved a bit harder to explain. 

“A travel writer, how fascinating. And, why The Blue Train?” 

“Luxury train travel is all the rage these days.” I explained, spouting off my cover story. “My bosses wanted something unique and I wanted something with history, so I petitioned for The Blue Train.”

Getting to travel in style on The Blue Train was more of a perk than anything else, the real focus would be the end destination. 

“Excellent choice. This is my second time on the train and it never disappoints.” 

I smiled.

None of the places I traveled in the past eight years since my  . . . career change had disappointed me. 

We fell into silence and he turned back to his paper. A blue and cream liveried employee stopped by to inform us that we would soon be entering the tunnel, but not to worry as the lights would come on automatically. Before he left, he handed me a slip of paper, saying that a man at the bar instructed him to give it to me. 

I thanked him and turned back to the window for the last glimpses of the green landscape bordered by distant mountains. Suddenly, the train car plunged into complete blackness. The lights that were promised to turn on remained dark. The gentle swaying of the train turned to unexpected jostling, like a plane being struck by turbulence. It drew small murmurs from a few of the other passengers in the car. The crystals on the chandeliers trembled together and the bulbs began to flicker eerily several times, casting ghoulish shadows. 

I frowned, realizing that the feeling seemed all too familiar. 

Seriously? Now? I was supposed to have at least twenty-four more hours worth of relaxation.

 I felt the telltale tug - as if I was slipping and something tried to keep me from hitting the floor. It lasted only a moment. 

Just then, the train emerged on the other side and the feeling faded. I squinted and closed my eyes as sunlight poured through the windows, blinding me. I blinked away the fuzzy edges of my vision until my surroundings came back into focus. 

And, I froze. 

I hoped that I imagined the feeling, but I hadn’t. 

Everything had changed in a matter of seconds. The plush, modern opulence had vanished and been replaced with a rich, vintage look - the furniture now hues of gold, navy, and ivory. Robust mahogany tables replaced the glass one. The crystal light fixtures overhead had taken on an antique gleam. The wispy curtains were swapped out for thicker, velvet ones and a damask pattern paper covered the once neutral walls. Even my slacks and sleek blazer had been traded in for a retro looking linen skirt and a black, silk blouse. I patted my hair which was now styled away from my face. My cell phone and ipad were gone, but the crisp note remained on my lap.

As usual when this sort of thing happened, no one else seemed bothered by the sudden and shocking change. I picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it.

“Welcome to 1948, Miss Grace. I know we agreed that you wouldn’t go back in time until you arrived at Pretoria, but we have come across some new facts.”

A little warning would have been nice. In the years I spent time traveling, I had grown used to the feeling of it, but the first few minutes always caused me to feel uncomfortable in my own skin. 

“It has come to our attention that there is someone on this train who possesses something that does not belong to them - a rare, yellow diamond. The Florentine Diamond.” 

The Florentine Diamond.

I stifled an impressed gasp. My skin prickled. Due to my checkered past, my employer’s never allowed me to retrieve jewels of any sort. Paintings, yes. Sculptures, of course. Jade carvings, a time or two. But, never anything like the Florentine Diamond. 

“I am aware that it is unconventional to allow a former jewel thief to find this diamond, but who better than you, Ms. Grace. You have until you pass through the tunnel that leads to Pretoria in which you will be returned to your timeline. Good luck and good fortune.”

At the bottom of the letter, I had been given a list of names, nationalities, and professions. 

Twenty-four suspects and one culprit.  

Before heading to the dining car for supper, I reviewed everything that I knew about the Florentine Diamond. It wasn’t much considering that mystery and rumor shrouded it like a cloak. The 137 carat gem originated in India and somehow passed into the hands of an Austrian duke. It was smuggled out of the country upon the exile of said duke during World War I where it vanished, seemingly into thin air. That's where the rumors started. Some said it made its way to South America, others reported it wound up in the United States where a jeweler cut it into smaller diamonds.

 And, now I was being told that it was here on The Blue Train as we chugged through the South African desert. Not as far-fetched as it sounded, considering that the booming trade port of Cape Town attracted people from all corners of the world. It could have very easily found its way across these borders. 

But how and why and by whom? 

I had roughly twenty hours to find the answers to those questions before the dust of time once more swallowed the diamond. 

I changed into a shimmering evening gown and made my way to the dining car with the other guests. Gold rimmed china, sparkling silver flatware, and tastefully arranged centerpieces lay perfectly set on the linen covered table that stretched from end to end of the car. Throughout the course of the meal, I remained quiet and simply watched, taking in the conversation around me. I mentally noted how everyone interacted with one another and saw who tried too hard and who remained standoffish. I felt a sinking feeling settle in the pit of my stomach as I realized that it could be anyone, regardless of age, race, or intelligence because they might not even realize what was in their possession. 

As dinner concluded, we moved to the lounge cars where dessert was served in a warmer and more casual atmosphere. I strategically placed myself among what appeared to be the most diverse group - an Indian couple, a large African man, the English gentleman with his wife and daughter, a young man from Boston, and two wealthy women from Switzerland. The group fell into quiet chatter, but nothing they spoke of contained any substance or clues. I continued my observation, taking in their hands and clothes and mannerisms wishing that I had more to go off of. As the evening wore on, I crossed and uncrossed suspects in my mind, not feeling any closer to solving the mystery.

The Indian couple seemed strong contenders considering the origin of the diamond. But, the Swiss women, who turned out to be sisters Lousia and Marie, could be just as guilty since The Florentine disappeared in Switzerland. And, I couldn’t rule out the English gentleman, Robert, who traveled extensively or the sharp-eyed African man, Ezra, who I felt knew a priceless gem when he saw one. 

The only one who stumped me was the American, Ethan, with his crooked grin, loud bursts of laughter, and middle class air. He clearly could afford this trip, though his late fashion suit and callused hands said otherwise. However, if he had pawned The Florentine to afford to live in luxury, my employers wouldn’t have been so certain that the yellow diamond was somewhere on The Blue Train. 

As the hours ticked away like the clicking of train wheels, guests began to retire to the sleeping cars and I eventually followed suit, leaving the last few stragglers to finish tumblers of brandy. The evening proved frustrating and fruitless and I needed to regather and figure out a new course of action before time ran out. I slipped into my private compartment and paused at the sight of an unexpected visitor perched on the edge of the sofa.

Ethan. 

“Are you lost, sir?” 

He shook his head and motioned for me to close the door the rest of the way behind me. I stubbornly refused. 

“Well, if you would like the whole train to know we are both time travelers –”

Both! I slid the door shut harder than necessary. 

“What do you mean?”

“I know a time traveler when I see one.” He no longer spoke in the thick, Boston accent. 

“I don’t know you.”

“I’m not from your agency.”

 I had heard of rival time traveling agencies that enjoyed a little friendly competition here and there, but I never ran into anyone in my travels. 

“Are you here for the same piece I am?”

“The Florentine. Sure am.”

“And, you want to know what I know?”

“I thought maybe we could compare notes?” Ethan smiled, a dazzling gesture complete with dimples.

I raised my eyebrows. I have met more than one charming man in my life. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I imagine you are on the same time crunch as I am.” 

“I’m not sharing with you.”

“Because you don’t know anything?”

I prickled, repeating myself.“Because, I’m not sharing.” 

Ethan chuckled. “As a show of good faith, I will share my observations from the evening. I don’t think that it is the Swiss sisters.”

I had gone back and forth between crossing them off the list or not. “Switzerland is where the diamond was last seen before it vanished.” 

“Yes, but did you notice how they were dripping in jewelry?” 

I had. Even the bespectacled elderly woman who squinted all night behind her thick lens wouldn’t have been able to miss the obvious flaunting of wealth. 

“Do you think if they were in possession of the Florentine they wouldn’t be wearing such a rare and beautiful diamond?”

He had an excellent point and I mentally kicked myself for failing to draw that conclusion on my own. 

“Your turn.”

I feigned confusion. “My turn to what?”

“To share with me something that you know. I told you my observation about the sisters, it is only fair for you to return the gesture.”

I crossed my arms. I wanted to snap back that I hadn’t agreed to that. But, I now had only about eighteen hours left to find the diamond, no solid leads, and the desire to fall asleep. 

I relented, sharing what little information I had been able to glean, though it wasn’t much to go off of. I wasn’t sure how long we threw conspiracies back and forth or at which point I dozed off on the bed, but I jerked awake with a start. 

“It’s Robert!”

A groggy Ethan pushed himself upright from where he lay sprawled on the sofa that didn’t quite fit his frame. “How do you know that? It could just as easily be the Indian couple who want the diamond returned to their country.”

“No, no, listen to me.” I jumped to my feet. “It was something that Robert’s daughter, Ruth, said to me the first night at dinner. She mentioned that Austria was terribly dull and she hopes to never visit again. I didn’t think anything of it until this moment!”

“Austria?” Ethan sounded confused. He scrubbed his face with both hands.

I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him as I tried to get him to follow my line of thinking. “Yes, Austria! All the stories say that the duke took The Florentine with him into exile, but what if he never did. What if it remained in Austria?”

“But, how would Robert possibly know it was still there?”

I began to pace, unable to remain still. “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was a crime of opportunity? He saw his chance and he took it.” 

“Wait!” Ethan stopped me mid-pace. “It wasn’t Robert.”

It had to be. It made the most sense.

Ethan continued. “I remember overhearing that comment, but it struck me as odd at how sharply her mother corrected her. Lady Gray didn’t chide the girl for being rude or speaking out of turn, her response was almost angry.”

It clicked. “Like someone defending their home country.”

“Exactly. Why else would a British woman respond so forcefully to an offhanded comment.”

“She wouldn’t. It should make no difference to her.”

 “But it did. Which can only mean that Lady Gray is of Austrian descent. And not just any Austrian as Lord Gray strikes me as a man who would not marry below rank.”

“So, his wife had to be of noble birth.” I felt a thrill as the pieces began to fall into place. “And, in order to have access to the diamond, she needed to be part of the Austrian court.”

“She would have been a girl at the time of the exile. Who would have thought that a child was smuggling such a precious diamond. One that the world would become obsessed with.” 

“But why would she bring it on the train with her?”

“That is something we can ask her once we have found it.” 

 Now what was left to be answered was where she was keeping the diamond. In their sleeping quarters or on her person? 

After a brief discussion and only minor squabbling, we decided that Ethan would check the compartment while I distracted them at breakfast. I wanted to be the one to claim the diamond, but I could engage mother and daughter in womanly topics where Ethan wouldn’t even know where to begin. We parted ways. I quickly dressed and headed to the dining car. Not particularly hungry but needing to keep up appearances, I filled my plate with an assortment of breakfast foods and took a spot among the Gray family. After exchanging pleasantries, I did my best to keep up a steady flow of conversation, asking Ruth about her studies, Lady Gray about her photography, and Lord Gray about his horses. The family seemed more than happy to talk about themselves, which was in my favor since I only half listened. The other half was with Ethan searching for the diamond. 

“What’s that, Papa?”

“The tunnel that leads to Pretoria.”

I snapped to attention, my eyes drawn out the window to a spot on the horizon that gaped wider and wider as they hurtled towards it. 

“Once through it, we will be to our destination in the next few hours.”

My stomach bottomed out. I excused myself suddenly feeling sick and hurried towards the back of the train. I needed to warn Ethan that we were running out of time. Etiquette be damned, I hiked up my skirt and ran, ignoring the murmurs or curious looks from the other passengers.

How had we lost so much time?

I paused outside the Gray’s compartment, looked both ways before slipping inside. Ethan jumped at the sight of me, before he realized who it was. “What are you doing?”

“We have minutes before we reach the tunnel and we lose this chance to find the diamond.”

“I only have this part of the room left to search.” 

We continued to fervor. I rifled through the drawers to the nightstand, probing for false bottoms or hidden compartments. 

“Olivia, there is something here.” 

I froze, feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation. 

Ethan pushed himself out from under the bed and sparkling in his palm was The Florentine Diamond. 

The door slid open.

“What is happening here?” Lady Gray gasped. The sound morphed into a shriek, resembling that of a banshee as it registered what he held. “Give that back to me, at once!” 

She threw herself at Ethan with surprising speed, grappling from the jewel. It flew out of his hand as he lost his grip on it. It landed with a thud and rolled under the coffee table as the train swayed. I dove and scrambled after it. 

Suddenly, the train went dark. 

The tunnel.

Lady Gray howled. Or maybe the sound came from Ethan. I couldn’t tell. I searched around blindly, praying for the diamond to reflect even the smallest sliver of light. 

“Olivia.”

I felt the seconds ticking by as my search became frantic.

“Olivia!”

“I’m trying!” I brushed against something, but it wasn’t the diamond. I murmured a curse. Just as the train shot through the other side of the tunnel in a flood of brilliant light, my fingers closed around the Florentine.

I looked over my shoulder, the jewel held aloft in triumph.  

There was no shudder. No tugging. No familiar feeling of being situated back in my own timeline. 

My eyes found Ethan’s and I had a feeling that the look in his gaze reflected my own. We were unchanged. 

We were trapped in 1948.