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All right, maybe that was more than just one question. To be honest, I had a mountain of questions about him, his somewhat scary plans for the domination of all the trade in the world, and his past, and his future. But none of these things were actually any of my business, and with us sneaking into the villain’s lair, this was certainly not the right time and place for curiosity. So I swallowed my questions and followed him up the stairs, until we reached a large landing at the top, hewn out of the rock floor of the raised plateau.
We had hardly set foot on the stone when, from up ahead, we heard voices. Among the echoing noises of the busy cave, they were too indistinct for me to recognize - but not for Mr Ambrose.
‘Get down!’
Grabbing my arm, he shoved me behind one of the wooden buildings that stood right beside the landing. Stumbling, I fell to my knees, and remained like that, cowering on the cold stone, while the voices drew nearer. Mr Ambrose appeared beside me, his whole body tensed like a panther about to spring.
We waited, in silence. I didn’t dare move a single muscle.
‘…the men made any progress so far?’ A familiar smooth, magnanimous voice came from the other side of the building. It sounded so charming, so relaxed. Even now, knowing what I knew, I could hardly believe this was Lord Dalgliesh, chief shareholder of the Honourable East India Company and close friend to the Crown, discussing criminal enterprises.
‘No, My Lord. The code of the documents in question seems to be well developed.’
‘I see. Please be so kind as to see to it that they are properly motivated, will you? I wish them to understand how important this project is to me and to the Company.’
‘Um, yes, My Lord. I shall think of a suitable motivation.’
‘Excellent. I’m sure I can rely on you.’
‘Yes, My Lord. Certainly, My Lord.’
‘And what about the diplomatic treaties that were not encoded? The secret agreements with Muhammad Ali Pasha? Were they genuine?’
‘Oh yes, My Lord. Every word.’
‘I see. Do we have an East Indiaman scheduled to go to Egypt?’
‘Yes, My Lord.’
‘How fortunate. Please send one of my agents on board and instruct him to courteously discourage His Highness the Khedive from any such further action. Tell him it would be unwise. He would not want to lose my good will, now, would he?’
The words were so soft, so friendly - not angry at all. And yet, I caught a glimpse of the other man, who walked beside Lord Dalgliesh as they passed by the building behind which we were hiding. At the words ‘lose my good will’, he flinched as if hit by a whip.
‘Certainly not, My Lord,’ he said hurriedly. ‘The Khedive will surely take that into consideration.’
Lord Dalgliesh smiled.
‘Yes. I’m sure he will.’
They began to descend the stairs, their voices fading into the distance. I continued to cower on the stone floor, my heart still hammering like an insane woodpecker. After a while, I tried to get up, but found I couldn’t get my legs to move.
‘Who is this Khedive-person?’ I asked, my voice slightly unsteady.
Mr Ambrose had risen beside me. His legs didn’t seem to have been filled with pudding.
‘The ruler of Egypt,’ he responded curtly.
‘Lord Dalgliesh can tell the King of Egypt what to do?’
Mr Ambrose lowered his eyes until he met mine.
‘Lord Dalgliesh can tell the Queen of the British Empire what to do. Ali Pasha hardly presents a challenge to him. And neither, apparently, do I.’ His left little finger twitched, once. ‘It cost me a fortune to negotiate these secret treaties! It will cost me another to renegotiate, now that Dalgliesh knows. This is… quite inconvenient.’
‘Inconvenient? Dear me. Such strong words, Sir.’
‘Mr Linton?’
‘Yes, Sir?’
