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Silence.
‘Tell me! Why? Am I that bad a secretary?’
To my surprise, after a moment, he shook his head.
‘No,’ he told me. ‘In fact, your work so far has been quite acceptable. For a female, you have an astonishingly unmuddled mind.’
‘Well, thank you very much for that ringing endorsement! If it’s not my work that’s the problem, then what is it? Is it…’ I hesitated. We were back to the old subject. The old battleground. ‘Is it that I am a girl?’
He nodded.
‘You bastard! I’d like to throw something at your head!’ I told him.
‘Be my guest,’ he said, ‘and you’ll be out of here faster than you can say “assault charges”.’
I was seething with fury. But behind his cold words I could sense something - something that wasn’t clearly expressed, and yet I felt it, in his eyes, his voice…
He wanted to get rid of me because I was a girl? But he had said that I did my work well enough. So why would he still want to get rid of me? Why did men think women shouldn’t work? Because they were a distraction, because it was unbecoming, because they were in too much danger-
My thoughts screeched to a halt.
‘It’s because of him, isn’t it?’
‘Who?’
‘Him! This mystery-man behind the theft of that all-important file! You said he was dangerous, and that you wouldn’t let me be in on the chase, because you couldn’t put a lady in harm’s way!’ I loaded the word ‘lady’ with as much disgust as I could manage. ‘It is because of him, isn’t it?’
Silence. But this time, the silence told me all. Yes. It was because of him.
‘Who is he?’ I demanded. ‘What is in the file? Who is this mysterious mastermind that makes even you think twice about taking him on? Tell me!’
Silence. Thickening silence.
‘I just don't understand!’ I exclaimed, shaking my head. ‘Who could be that powerful, that evil, that he would give even you pause? He would have to be a king, a ruthless killer or… or…’
It was only a flicker of movement, but I noticed it: Mr Ambrose’s head turned, almost imperceptibly, for just a split second to look out of the window, across the street - and at the façade of East India House.
…or a man who owned an entire subcontinent and his own private army.
‘No,’ I whispered. ‘No. It couldn’t be!’
I Realize I Danced with a Criminal Mastermind
His head jerked up and around to look at me, but I didn’t see him. Instead I saw a dozen images, whirling in my head, connecting together for the first time:
Mr Ambrose shaking Lord Dalgliesh’s hand with enough force to whiten his knuckles.
Mr Ambrose staring across the ballroom to a table where only two people stood - Miss Hamilton and Lord Dalgliesh.
Mr Ambrose cutting a lock of hair from Simmons' head in the dark cellar beneath Empire House.
Lord Dalgliesh opening the envelope that contained a single lock of golden hair - hair of exactly the same shade and texture as that on Simmons' head.
‘But…’ I steadied myself against the wall. ‘But he’s one of the peers[45] of England! One of the most wealthy and respected gentlemen of the Empire! He wouldn’t be involved in something like this!’
‘He?’ Mr Ambrose asked, his face expressionless. ‘Who?’
‘Don’t play dumb with me!’
