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‘Captain Carter, of course!’
‘Indeed, Mr Linton?’
‘Oh yes, indeed, Sir!’
‘And what has happened to the good captain that warrants your barging into my office at this hour of the night?’
‘Don’t you play the innocent! You know exactly what happened! You were the one who sicced that bearded brute on him!’
‘Bearded brute?’
Just then, the door behind me creaked open, and I saw the reflection of Karim appearing in the dark windows behind Mr Ambrose. What little was visible of his face behind that beard of his was a grimace of discomfort that would have made me laugh at any other time. Never in my life had I seen the huge Mohammedan looking so much like a naughty schoolboy who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But right now wasn’t any other time. Right now was right now. And right now, I just wanted to chop his bloody head off!
‘Karim.’ Just one word. That was all. Mr Ambrose gave his bodyguard a look, and the huge man grimaced, ducking his head.
‘I am sorry, Sahib.’
‘I’m so glad to hear that, Karim.’ Half-turning, I gifted him with a smile you could have cut iron with. ‘What are you sorry about, exactly? Walloping Captain Carter over the head and trying to stuff him into a sack, or getting caught in the act?’
Wisely, the big man did not answer.
I whirled back to Mr Ambrose, my eyes flashing. ‘It was you! It really was you who ordered this!’
Silence.
‘Why, damn you? Bloody hell, why?’
More silence. Clenching my fists, I strode forward until I stood right in front of his desk. Slamming my fists down on the hardwood, I leaned forward until our faces were only inches apart.
‘Why would you do this? Captain Carter was here to help suppress the riots! He was helping you!’
‘Oh yes.’ Mr Ambrose’s eyes were two dark oceans of ice. His words were only a whisper - and yet I understood every cold, hard word. ‘I’m sure the good captain was very desirous of helping me. I could tell from the way he was kneeling beside your bed, clutching your hand in his!’
I blinked. What in the…
Out of all the possible things for him to say, I had not expected this.
‘You had a man knocked over the head and stuffed into a sack because he visited while I was ill?’
There was a noise from behind me. It almost sounded…no. That couldn’t be. It had almost sounded as if Karim had choked on a laugh. But that couldn’t be true. There was about as much humour in Karim as in a grumpy old camel.
‘No.’ Mr Ambrose’s cold voice drew my attention back to him. He was sitting even stiffer than usual, as if someone had injected steel into his spine. His dark, sea-coloured eyes were swirling, focused on me with an intensity I did not understand, and that made me slightly uneasy. ‘I didn’t do it just because he paid you a visit.’
‘Why then? Why would you go after a perfectly nice man like Captain Carter?’
His hands shot out, grabbing my face. Before I could even think of resisting, he had pulled me across the desk and kissed me once, hard, on the mouth.
Then he released me.
Stunned, I stumbled back, staring at him.
‘Try to guess,’ he growled.
Silence.
Icy silence on the part of Mr Ambrose. Diplomatic silence from Karim. And from me - stunned silence. Absolutely steamrollered, gobsmacked, speechless silence.
Had that really just happened?
