A phone call was made. It was possible. Hard berth only. About twenty five pounds. A train ticket. The genuine article. Grey rather than black market, trading bulk purchases, the profit a small commission. I’d decided to move ahead to Lanzhou by train. There’d been an abortive visit to the ticket office in Dunhuang, the limitations of the phrase book quickly becoming apparent. So, instead, had tracked down a man who could help.
I’d mentioned the bike. Casually. Careful not to overplay it. After all, I’d been on a Chinese built train in Kazakhstan. Hadn’t been a problem. There surely wouldn’t be one now.
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