That night a terrible storm broke out. The rain created a wall of water, and the wind broke several trees in the area. No reasonable person would go outside in this weather, but Marianne Brown never considered herself a reasonable person. She ran out of the library of the university straight into the rain. Streets turned into rushing streams but she didn't care. She found that, after so many years! Until now she believed that all things of her father were gone, and yet not. University of Edinburgh does not let one of its best graduates went into oblivion.
Then she heard a dry crackle characteristic for firing of gun equipped with a silencer. The bullet hit the cobblestones right next to her feet. Damn, it was close. Fortunately, the port was already closer than farther.
"Catch her!" Aha, her pursuers were a few steps behind her.
"Forget it, chap," she hissed angrily, gathered the remnants of her strength and jumped on a gangplank of the ship, a while before it was raised. SS Bold sailed to the continent. Next ship with the same rate will be here after a week, and severe weather pacified all airports within 20 miles.
"Farewell, gentlemen!" Marianne laughed, waving her cap in the direction of the thugs. They spat on the pavement in the response.
Two weeks later...
The winter in Brussels was quite warm this year. So warm, that gloves and caps weren't such necessary. Tintin and his dog Snowy went to the flea market to look for some presents for Christmas. At the stalls was literally everything: ornaments, antiques, trinkets, books... Snowy began to cast covetous eyes on the collection of some strange bones in a little display case. Before a journalist could to stop his pet, fox terrier ran as a missile fired from a slingshot and collided with some young man in a black trench coat.
"Oh no" muttered Tintin and quickly helped a stranger to get up "I'm sorry, sir. Snowy just..."
"Dogs should be on a leash" young man snapped. He had short, dark brown hair (a little in Captain's style), green eyes and slim, a little girlish face. On his a little snub nose a glasses were proudly embedded and on his head- a fedora.
"He doesn't like a leashes" the journalist looked hard into the eyes of his opponent. Something twisted in his stomach. Last time he felt something like that when... when Sakharine excelled with his blade in his face. This young man also had a cane, but it had a knob in the shape of a raven's head and was thicker. Relative? But in the eyes of this boy except of annoyance was... curiosity.
"And what else he does not like, Mr. Tintin?" on the face of the young man crept a smirk. He even smiled as Sakharine! Seeing the surprise in the Tintin's eyes, he chuckled softly and went on his way.
"I don't like it, Snowy" Tintin whispered to white fox terrier, after he paid for damaged bones' collection. "What if he's Sakharine's kin and is looking for Captain?"
"Or for you" barked Snowy. He remembered Sakharine, this nasty man with a red cout and a blade in cane. He hoped that strange brat in black will be stay away from his friend.
Later, Tintin forgot about that accident. He spotted on an one stall one of the first editions of Murder on the Orient Express, which appeared in Belgium. Seller had two copies, but one was already sold.
"It's definitely in Mrs. Finch's liking," the boy muttered stroking the cover and went look around a little more.