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‘No. We are going over there, and I am going to make myself the authority who looks into the matter.’
I turned to stare at him. It shouldn’t have surprised me, I suppose. Rikkard Ambrose wasn’t one to leave his dirty work to others. But still…
‘We are going to hunt bandits?’
‘Correct.’
‘Just out of interest… How many of these bandits do you think there are?’
He gave an almost imperceptible shrug of his broad, hard shoulders. ‘In each caravan, there were at least twenty men, quite used to fighting in the desert. They were slaughtered to a man, so I estimate that there must be at least forty raiders, maybe more.’
‘Ah.’ I tried to swallow. It didn’t really work. A stubborn lump had suddenly appeared in my throat.
‘We will be joined in Alexandria by a group of men who will assist us in our efforts. And several of the well-trained fighters I took on board in London will be accompanying us into the desert to lend us their weapons expertise.’
This made me feel a little better. I managed to get the lump out of my throat and speak again.
‘So, once we have captured those bandits, what are we going to do with them?’
‘Capture?’ It would be too much to say that one of his eyebrows actually rose, but a sense of raised eyebrows definitely emanated from his unmoving features. ‘What makes you think we are going to capture them?’
‘Well, what else could you d-’
I broke off, as the answer abruptly occurred to me. Suddenly, the lump in my throat was back. It had gotten bigger on its short holiday.
‘I don’t have any use for bandits,’ Mr Ambrose told me in that cold voice of his. Then he turned away, and marched towards the captain.
‘What are your men waiting for, Captain? Tell them to get this ship out of the harbour! Now!’
Now? Most of me was still a bit numb from Mr Ambrose’s casual revelation of our murderous plans. But another part of me couldn’t help thinking: How are we supposed to leave now? The wind is blowing in the wrong direction!
The captain didn’t seem to have noticed that, though. He saluted. ‘Yes, Sir, Mr Ambrose, Sir!’
I expected him to cry out ‘Set the sails’ or something equally nice and nautical. But instead, he merely gestured to the nearest seaman, who opened a hatch in the deck and whistled, twice.
A shudder went through the entire ship, and suddenly I noticed black smoke rising out of one the things I had taken for masts.
‘I’ll be jiggered!’ My eyes flitted to Mr Ambrose. ‘That conniving son of a…!’
*~*~**~*~*
Over the next days, the constant thump, thump of the ship’s steam engine became my constant companion. It was helpful in a way, distracting me from my own thoughts, except at night, when the bloody noise also distracted me from sleep. But even the Mammon’s steam engine with its monumental powers of distraction could not pull my thoughts away from one thing:
The cases.
The suitcases which Mr A
mbrose had had deposited in my miniscule cabin - without the slightest explanation! After three days of endless churning engines and watery waves, he still hadn’t said a word about what was in them, the bastard! And I most certainly had not deigned to ask. Ha!
Of course, I had rigorously interrogated Seaman Charlie Coles. But even under the threat of keelhauling, he stuck to his story that he had only carried the cases, and never looked inside. Finally, I had pity on the young man and sent him off without any major mental scars from the inquisition.
What could I do? The days and weeks of the sea voyage stretched endlessly in front of me, with nothing to hold my thoughts but the contents of these suitcases. What the bloody hell could I do?
You can ask him, said a nasty little voice inside me.
No, no, no! I would not succumb to that! I would not be one of those spineless females driven out of her mind by curiosity! Not when he already thought the worst of women.
The only problem was: I was being driven out of my mind by curiosity. Blast!
