The Turing Option

They got it as far as the station entrance before Shelly called quits.

“Enough! You watch this thing while I see if they rise to something as exotic as a redcap.”

She was back a few minutes later with the man. He was wearing a battered cap, his badge of rank, and pushing a handcart.

“We have to buy tickets,” Brian said as the porter eased the metal edge of the hand truck under the box. He hoped that the man spoke English.

“No problem. Where are you going?”

“Mexico City.”

“No problem. You people, you just follow me.”

The unhappy-looking woman behind the window grille also spoke English, he was relieved to find out. Yes, there was a first-class compartment available. The ancient machine at her elbow disgorged two tickets, which she hand-stamped. The only problem was money.

“Don’t take dollars,” she said, scowling, as though it were his fault. “Only moneda national.”

“Can’t we change money here?” Shelly asked.

“The change is closed already.”

Brian’s surge of panic was only slightly relieved when the porter said, “I got a friend, change money.”

“Where?”

“Over there, he work in the bar.”

The bartender smiled broadly, was more than happy to sell pesos for dollars.

“You know I gotta charge different from the bank because I lose on the exchange.”

“Whatever you say,” Brian said, passing over the greenbacks.

“I’m sure he’s cheating you!” Shelly hissed when the man went to the till.

“I agree. But we’re getting on the train and that’s what counts.”

Cheated or not he felt immensely relieved to see the thick bundle of pesos that he got in return for his dollars.

It was eight minutes to twelve when the porter put the box on the floor in the compartment, pocketed his ten-dollar tip, closed the door behind him as he left. Shelly pulled down the curtain while Brian locked the door and opened the box.

“The correct rate of exchange for selling dollars in Mexico is—”

“Keep it a secret from us, will you please?” Brian said as he took out his airline bag. “Been enjoying your trip so far, Sven?”

“If looking at the inside of dark car trunks is enjoyable, then I have enjoyed myself.”

“It can only get better,” Shelly said.

There was the clank of distant couplings and the train shuddered and began to move; an imperious knock rattled the door.

“I’ll get that,” Shelly said. “You had better relax.”

“I would love to.”

She waited until he had slammed the box shut before she unlocked and opened the door.

“Tickets please,” the conductor said.

“Yes, of course.” He passed them over. The conductor punched them and pointed to the seats.

“Just pull the back of the couch down when you are ready to retire, the bed is already made up. The upper bunk swings down like this. Have a pleasant journey.”

Brian locked the door behind him and dropped onto the seat limply. This had been quite a day.

The train swayed as they picked up speed, the wheels clicked over the rails, lights moved by outside. He opened the curtain and watched the suburbs stream past, then the farms beyond.

“We’ve made it!” Shelly said. “I’ve never seen a more lovely sight in my life.”

“I am sure that it is a most interesting view,” the muffled voice said.

“Sorry about that,” Brian said as he opened the box again. Sven pushed his eyestalks out so he could see through the window as well. Brian turned off the lights and they watched the landscape drift by.

“What time do we get there?” Shelly asked.

“Three in the afternoon.”

“And then?”

Brian was silent, looking out into the darkness, still not sure. “Shelly, I still think I ought to be doing this on my own.”

“Nonsense. In for a penny, in for a pound, isn’t that what they say?”

“They say it in Ireland all right.”

“It is my belief that you should accept Shelly’s offer of aid,” Sven said.

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

“No. But her suggestion is a good one. You have been quite ill, your memory has gaps in it. You can use her help. Take it.”

“Outvoted,” Brian sighed. “The plan is a simple one — but you had better have your passport with you.”

“I do. Packed it in as soon as Dr. Snaresbrook mentioned she would be going to the Mexican border.”

“What I must do is stay ahead of anyone who comes looking for me.”

“Go to ground in Mexico?”

“I thought of that — but it’s no good. The Mexican and American police cooperate very closely in chasing down drug runners. I am sure that General Schorcht would tag me as a criminal if that was needed to track me down. So I have to go further than Mexico. I checked the schedules and a lot of international flights leave Mexico City in the early evening. So we buy tickets and leave the country.”

“Any particular destination in mind?”

“Of course. Ireland. You’ll remember that I am an Irish citizen.”

“That’s a brilliant idea. So we get to Ireland — then what?”