Chapter One: The Night of the Payroll Express
The fog rolled over London like a grey blanket
It drifted through railway yards, wrapped itself around signal boxes and crept between rows of terraced houses. The city was settling down for the evening. Shopkeepers were locking their doors. Factory workers were heading home. Street lamps flickered into life one by one.
But trouble was already on the move.
At Platform Nine of Victoria Station, the Payroll Express stood waiting.
Steam hissed from beneath the great locomotive. Porters wheeled trolleys along the platform. Guards checked their watches. The train was carrying thousands of pounds in payroll money destined for factories and businesses across southern England.
Most people saw only another train.
Three men saw a fortune.
Hidden amongst a crowd of passengers stood a tall man in a dark overcoat.
His name was Mick Mallory.
The newspapers called him Mad Mick.
Not because he was mad.
Because nobody could predict what he would do next.
He glanced towards two men standing further down the platform.
A slight nod.
That was all.
The robbery had begun.
The train departed with a blast of its whistle.
Nobody suspected a thing.
Not the passengers.
Not the guards.
Not even the railway police.
The crooks had bought legitimate tickets and boarded like ordinary travellers.
For twenty minutes they waited.
Then they struck.
The first guard was grabbed before he could raise the alarm.
The second had his hands tied behind his back.
Within moments the gang had forced their way into the payroll carriage.
Canvas money sacks lined the walls.
Mick Mallory grinned.
“Well, lads,” he said, “we’ve just become very wealthy men.”
Back in London, another whistle was sounding.
This one belonged to Police Constable Montgomery Marshall.
Most people simply called him Montgomery the Metropolitan.
He was walking his evening beat through Westminster.
Tall and broad shouldered, Montgomery was impossible to miss.
His dark uniform was always immaculate.
His boots gleamed.
His helmet sat perfectly straight.
Children waved whenever they saw him.
Shopkeepers greeted him by name.
Even London’s pigeons seemed to trust him.
At that very moment he was helping an elderly lady carry several shopping bags across a busy road.
“There we are, Mrs Jenkins,” said Montgomery.
The woman smiled.
“Thank you, Constable.”
“A pleasure.”
Montgomery tipped his helmet.
The old woman laughed.
“You always seem cheerful.”
“London’s a wonderful city,” replied Montgomery. “Someone has to smile at it.”
Before he could continue, a police motorcycle roared around the corner.
The rider skidded to a stop.
“Constable Montgomery!”
The policeman looked concerned.
“What is it?”
“Emergency call from Victoria Station.”
Montgomery’s smile vanished.
“Go on.”
“The Payroll Express has been robbed.”
The words hung in the air.
For a moment the city seemed to stand still.
Then Montgomery acted.
“Get me to headquarters.”
The motorcycle sped through the streets.
Past Parliament.
Past Trafalgar Square.
Past rows of red buses and black taxis.
The evening crowds watched as the police machine disappeared into the distance.
At Scotland Yard the atmosphere was tense.
Senior officers crowded around maps and railway schedules.
A superintendent pointed towards a route crossing south east England.
“The gang is still on the train.”
“How do we know?” asked Montgomery.
“Because they’re trapped.”
The superintendent tapped the map.
“They planned to unload the money at Blackstone Bridge.”
Montgomery studied the route.
A narrow bridge crossing a river.
Dense woodland nearby.
Perfect escape territory.
The crooks had chosen well.
Perhaps too well.
The superintendent folded his arms.
“We’ve dispatched officers by road.”
Montgomery looked at the map again.
Roads.
Traffic.
Distance.
Too slow.
His eyes narrowed.
Then he smiled.
The superintendent recognised that smile.
Whenever Montgomery smiled like that, something extraordinary was about to happen.
“You have an idea.”
“I do.”
The superintendent sighed.
“I was afraid of that.”
Montgomery pointed towards another railway line.
“There’s a maintenance locomotive scheduled to leave from East Yard in ten minutes.”
The superintendent blinked.
“You cannot possibly mean—”
“I do.”
“You want to chase a moving train…”
“Correct.”
“On another train?”
“Exactly.”
The room fell silent.
One inspector dropped his pencil.
Another nearly swallowed his pipe.
The superintendent rubbed his forehead.
“Montgomery.”
“Yes, sir?”
“One day you’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Not tonight, sir.”
The superintendent stared at him for several seconds.
Then he pointed at the door.
“Go.”
Montgomery grinned.
“Thank you, sir.”
Five minutes later a locomotive thundered out of East Yard.
Standing proudly upon its footplate was Montgomery the Metropolitan.
Ahead of him, somewhere in the darkness, raced the Payroll Express.
A gang of thieves believed they were escaping.
They had no idea who was coming after them.
And before the night was over, London would witness the greatest police chase in modern history.
Chapter Two: Chase Through the Night
The locomotive roared through the darkness.
Its great wheels hammered against the rails.
Steam burst from the chimney in thick white clouds.
Standing beside the driver was Montgomery the Metropolitan.
His coat whipped wildly in the rushing wind.
Ahead of them lay miles of railway.
Somewhere beyond the darkness was the Payroll Express.
And aboard that train sat three thieves who believed they had escaped.
“How far behind are we?” shouted Montgomery.
The driver checked his watch.
“Seven minutes!”
Montgomery frowned.
Seven minutes was a lifetime on the railway.
The crooks could be anywhere by now.
The driver pulled a lever.
The locomotive surged forward.
The speed increased.
Fields and hedgerows blurred past.
Signal lights flashed red, yellow and green.
The engine was giving everything it had.
Meanwhile, aboard the Payroll Express, Mick Mallory was feeling rather pleased with himself.
Money sacks lay piled around the carriage.
The gang had already collected thousands of pounds.
One of the crooks peered through a window.
“We’ve done it, Mick.”
“We certainly have.”
“They’ll never catch us.”
Mick laughed.
“No chance.”
At that exact moment a railway guard, tied up inside a storage compartment, was slowly rubbing his ropes against a metal bolt.
The knot loosened.
A little more.
A little more.
Then.
Snap.
The ropes broke.
The guard immediately raced towards the emergency communications box.
Within seconds another message was racing through railway lines and police headquarters.
The gang was still aboard.
And they were heading exactly where Montgomery had predicted.
Blackstone Bridge.
The trap was closing.
Back on the pursuing locomotive, Montgomery studied a railway map.
The driver pointed ahead.
“We’re gaining on them.”
Montgomery looked up.
Far in the distance he spotted a faint plume of smoke.
Then another.
His eyes widened.
“There.”
The driver followed his gaze.
The Payroll Express.
At last.
The gap was shrinking.
Mile by mile.
Minute by minute.
The driver grinned.
“We’ve got them now.”
Montgomery wasn’t so sure.
Experienced criminals rarely surrendered quietly.
And Mick Mallory had earned his reputation for a reason.
Sure enough, several miles ahead, one of the thieves glanced backwards.
His face turned pale.
“Mick!”
“What?”
“We’ve got company.”
Mick marched to the rear platform.
He looked into the darkness.
Then he saw it.
A locomotive racing towards them.
And standing proudly at the front—
Montgomery the Metropolitan.
Mick’s smile vanished.
“Oh no.”
The crooks exchanged nervous looks.
One gulped.
Another nearly dropped a money sack.
Everybody in Britain knew Montgomery’s reputation.
The newspapers loved him.
The public trusted him.
Criminals feared him.
Mick slammed a fist against the wall.
“Keep moving!”
“What do we do?”
“We continue with the plan.”
“But he’s catching us.”
“Then we’ll slow him down.”
The gang immediately sprang into action.
Wooden crates were dragged from a storage compartment.
Tools.
Coal sacks.
Spare equipment.
Anything they could find.
The first crate was hurled from the rear of the train.
It smashed across the tracks.
The pursuing driver cursed.
“Look out!”
Their locomotive bounced violently.
Splinters exploded across the rails.
Montgomery grabbed a handrail.
Another crate came flying.
Then another.
Then another.
The crooks were turning the railway into an obstacle course.
The driver wrestled with the controls.
“These lunatics are trying to derail us!”
Montgomery’s jaw tightened.
“We keep going.”
A coal sack struck the front of the locomotive.
Black dust exploded into the air.
The driver coughed.
Visibility vanished.
For several terrifying seconds they raced blind through the darkness.
Then the smoke cleared.
The Payroll Express was still ahead.
Closer than ever.
“Half a mile!” shouted the driver.
Montgomery smiled.
For the first time that night, the thieves were beginning to panic.
Far ahead, Blackstone Bridge appeared.
Its iron structure stretched across a deep river valley.
Moonlight shimmered on the water below.
This was where the robbery would end.
One way or another.
Mick Mallory checked his watch.
“Prepare to jump.”
The gang grabbed the money sacks.
The bridge was approaching fast.
Trees covered both sides of the valley.
Perfect cover.
Perfect escape routes.
Perfect chaos.
Everything depended on the next few minutes.
The train thundered onto the bridge.
The gang rushed towards the rear carriage.
Money sacks over their shoulders.
Adrenaline pumping.
One by one they prepared to leap.
Then a voice rang through the night.
A powerful voice.
A voice every criminal in London recognised.
“STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!”
The thieves froze.
Standing on the front of the pursuing locomotive was Montgomery.
The moonlight caught his helmet.
His uniform gleamed.
He looked larger than life.
Like a hero from a storybook.
Like justice itself.
For the first time all evening, Mick Mallory felt something he rarely experienced.
Fear.
The chase had reached Blackstone Bridge.
The battle was about to begin.
And before the night was over, somebody was going into the river.
Chapter Three: Battle on Blackstone Bridge
The Payroll Express thundered across Blackstone Bridge.
Steel wheels screamed against steel rails.
Steam exploded from the locomotive.
The whole bridge shook beneath the weight of the speeding train.
Below, the river churned through the darkness.
Above, the moon watched silently.
And between them all stood Montgomery the Metropolitan.
The pursuing locomotive was now so close that only a few yards separated the two trains.
The gap was shrinking every second.
Mick Mallory stared in disbelief.
“He’s insane!”
One of the crooks swallowed nervously.
“What do we do?”
Mick pointed.
“Get rid of him!”
The gang charged towards the rear carriage.
Montgomery tightened his grip on a handrail.
The wind roared around him.
The bridge rushed beneath him.
The river flashed below.
Then—
He jumped.
For a split second he was suspended above empty space.
Nothing beneath him except moonlight and water.
Then his boots slammed onto the rear platform of the Payroll Express.
The impact rattled the carriage.
Montgomery had boarded the train.
The crooks could hardly believe their eyes.
Neither could the driver of the pursuing locomotive.
Neither could the police officers watching from the far end of the bridge.
Nobody had ever seen anything like it.
Montgomery adjusted his helmet.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
The first crook rushed him.
Montgomery sidestepped.
The thief flew straight into a stack of money sacks.
The second swung a metal bar.
Montgomery ducked.
The bar smashed through a wooden crate.
Splinters exploded everywhere.
The third lunged from behind.
Montgomery spun around and grabbed his arm.
A moment later the crook found himself hanging upside down over a pile of luggage.
“Now then,” said Montgomery. “That’s not very sporting.”
The fight had only just begun.
Mick Mallory wasn’t interested in fistfights.
He wanted escape.
He snatched two money sacks.
“Come on!” he shouted.
The remaining thieves followed him towards the front of the train.
Montgomery immediately gave chase.
The train raced onward.
Carriage after carriage.
Roof after roof.
Bridge after bridge.
The pursuit became a blur of movement.
Passengers looked up from newspapers in astonishment.
One woman nearly fainted when Montgomery sprinted through her carriage.
A businessman dropped his briefcase.
A child pointed excitedly.
“Mum! It’s Montgomery!”
The boy’s mother looked out the window.
Sure enough, there he was.
Running through a moving train.
As though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Ahead, Mick burst onto an exterior walkway between two carriages.
The wind hit him like a wall.
He almost lost his footing.
The train entered a tunnel.
Darkness swallowed everything.
For several terrifying seconds nobody could see a thing.
Only the sound of wheels.
The roar of steam.
The pounding of feet.
Then the train burst back into moonlight.
Montgomery emerged from the tunnel only yards behind the gang.
The crooks scrambled onto the roof.
One after another.
Montgomery followed.
The roof was slippery with condensation.
The rushing wind threatened to tear him away.
Below him, the countryside raced past at incredible speed.
One mistake would be disastrous.
Mick glanced backwards.
Montgomery was gaining.
Fast.
The gang leader snarled.
“This ends now.”
He pointed towards an overhead signal gantry rushing towards them.
The steel structure was approaching rapidly.
Too rapidly.
“Down!” shouted Montgomery.
The crooks threw themselves flat.
Montgomery did the same.
The gantry screamed over their heads.
Sparks flew.
Metal rattled.
For one horrifying second it felt as though the entire train would be torn apart.
Then it was gone.
The chase continued.
Mick scrambled back to his feet.
His breathing was becoming heavier.
His confidence was beginning to crack.
Montgomery, meanwhile, looked as determined as ever.
Step by step.
Yard by yard.
He was closing in.
At the very front of the train stood the locomotive.
Beyond it stretched darkness.
No more carriages.
No more escape routes.
Mick realised the truth.
He was trapped.
The gang leader turned slowly.
Montgomery stood before him.
Steam drifted between them.
The moon illuminated both men.
The train thundered beneath their feet.
For several moments neither spoke.
Then Mick laughed.
A nervous laugh.
A desperate laugh.
“You don’t give up, do you?”
Montgomery shook his head.
“No.”
Mick dropped the money sacks.
The canvas bundles tumbled across the roof.
“So it’s just you and me?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Mick clenched his fists.
“Then let’s settle it.”
The train raced into the darkness.
Two figures stood atop the speeding locomotive.
Hero and villain.
Law and crime.
Only one of them would walk away victorious.
Chapter Four: The Fight Above London
The train roared through the night.
Steam blasted from the locomotive.
Sparks burst beneath its wheels.
The countryside flew past in a blur.
And standing atop the speeding engine were two men.
Montgomery the Metropolitan.
And Mad Mick Mallory.
Neither moved.
Neither blinked.
The wind howled around them like a hurricane.
Far below, rivers flashed silver beneath the moonlight.
Villages appeared and vanished in seconds.
The world itself seemed to be racing.
Mick cracked his knuckles.
“You should have stayed in London, policeman.”
Montgomery straightened his helmet.
“You should have stayed honest.”
Mick charged.
His fist flew like a cannonball.
Montgomery dodged.
The punch struck a metal vent.
The impact echoed across the locomotive.
Mick swung again.
And again.
And again.
Montgomery ducked and weaved.
The villain was strong.
Very strong.
Years of crime had made him tough.
But Montgomery possessed something else.
Discipline.
Training.
Courage.
The things that couldn’t be stolen.
Mick lunged forward.
Montgomery sidestepped.
The crook nearly stumbled off the locomotive.
For a moment he teetered above certain disaster.
Then he regained his footing.
The fight continued.
A right hook.
A left hook.
A flying tackle.
Both men crashed against the side of the engine.
Steam exploded between them.
The train screamed into another tunnel.
Darkness swallowed everything.
The battle became a blur of shadows.
Punches.
Footsteps.
Grunts.
The deafening roar of machinery.
Then.
Moonlight returned.
The train burst back into open country.
And suddenly Montgomery saw something ahead.
His eyes widened.
A signal.
A red signal.
Danger.
The driver had no idea what was happening above him.
The train was approaching a section of track undergoing repairs.
Workers had left warning signals.
The locomotive had to stop.
Immediately.
Mick saw it too.
And he laughed.
A horrible laugh.
“If I can’t escape, neither of us will!”
The villain rushed towards the controls.
Montgomery gave chase.
The distance between them closed.
Ten feet.
Five feet.
Three feet.
Mick reached the side ladder leading into the locomotive cab.
His hand touched the rail.
Then Montgomery launched himself.
The tackle struck like a thunderbolt.
Both men flew sideways.
The entire train seemed to shake.
Passengers screamed.
The driver looked upward.
Police officers watching from a nearby crossing stared in disbelief.
The two men rolled across the roof of the locomotive.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer to the edge.
Then Mick grabbed Montgomery’s jacket.
Montgomery grabbed Mick’s arm.
Suddenly both men slipped.
The world tilted.
The train vanished beneath them.
And for one terrible second they hung above empty space.
A collective gasp seemed to come from the entire country.
Mick dangled over the darkness.
One hand clung desperately to a metal rail.
His other hand gripped Montgomery.
The money thief looked down.
The ground raced past hundreds of feet below.
Fear finally appeared in his eyes.
Real fear.
The sort no criminal could bluff his way through.
“Help me!”
Montgomery tightened his grip.
The villain stared at him.
“Why?”
Montgomery looked him directly in the eye.
“Because I’m a policeman.”
Slowly.
Carefully.
Steadily.
Montgomery pulled.
Every muscle strained.
Every second mattered.
Finally Mick collapsed onto the roof.
Safe.
Defeated.
Breathing heavily.
The fight was over.
Police whistles echoed ahead.
The train screeched to a halt.
Officers surrounded the locomotive.
The remaining thieves were arrested within minutes.
The stolen payroll money was recovered.
Every last pound.
As dawn broke over the countryside, reporters arrived.
Photographers arrived.
Railway workers arrived.
Soon it seemed as though half of Britain had arrived.
Everyone wanted to see the man who had chased a train across the country and fought a gang of robbers atop a speeding locomotive.
A young reporter approached Montgomery.
“Constable, how did you do it?”
Montgomery thought for a moment.
Then smiled.
“One step at a time.”
The next morning every newspaper in Britain carried the same story.
Some called it the greatest police chase in modern history.
Others called it the most daring arrest ever made.
Children acted it out in playgrounds.
Shopkeepers discussed it over tea.
Passengers retold the tale on trains throughout the country.
And from that day forward, a new hero entered British legend.
Not a king.
Not a soldier.
Not a millionaire adventurer.
Just a policeman.
A good policeman.
A brave policeman.
A policeman who never gave up.
His name was Montgomery the Metropolitan.
And his adventures were only just beginning.
THE END
Thank you for reading Montgomery the metropolitan. Here was some of my inspiration for the book.
This was a fun book to write and a hope you enjoyed it so if you are looking for more read them in the compositions.
Issue #2 will be out soon so keep your eye out for it.
