11. Secret Cases

We were casting off. Sailors were hurrying over the deck, ropes in their hands, and commands were being shouted. Mr Ambrose stood on the quarterdeck, arms folded, face as stony as ever. Beside him stood the captain, and although he was the one shouting commands, there was no doubt who was really in command here.

'So, are you going to tell me now?' I demanded, taking my place beside the stony financial magnate.

'Tell you what, Mr Linton?'

'Why we are on this blasted cockleshell, of course! Why are we going to travel a thousand miles to Egypt?'

'Three thousand, six hundred and fifteen point one three seven six miles, actually.'

'Why the hell would I care how many miles there are? Just tell me!'

There was silence for a moment.

'Anchors aweigh!'

That didn't come from Mr Ambrose, but from the captain. I was still waiting for my answer. Finally, he unclenched his teeth.

'Fine!'

With a masterly flick of his hand, he motioned for the captain to move. With a prompt salute, the man stepped out of hearing range.

'You remember the plans that were stolen from my office?'

I cocked my head thoughtfully. 'The plans for that canal between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean that was supposed to give you control over most of the world's trade? The plans we risked our lives to retrieve? The plans that sank with that bloody ship that almost drowned us, too? Yes, I think I remember those.'

He threw me a dark look.

'The planning of that canal isn't my first attempt at establishing trade between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. Years ago, I already established a caravan route across the Sinai Peninsula.'

I frowned. 'Then why build a canal at all?'

He threw another look my way. This was the arrogant look of a man who makes millions as easily as other people make breakfast, and expects everyone to have the same ability. 'Are you sure you have your brain switched on, Mr Linton? At the moment, my goods have to be unloaded from one ship in the Mediterranean, then packed onto camels and carried at a painstakingly slow pace all the way through the desert, only to be loaded onto ships again when they reach the Red Sea. The same goes for transporting things in the other direction. Something like that is only profitable or feasible for small, light luxury goods, not for heavy industrial goods, let alone raw materials.'

'Yes.'

'What do you mean, "Yes"?'

I raised an eyebrow. 'I mean yes, I do have my brain switched on, Sir.'

'Then use it!'

'I intend to. If your caravan route is already up and running, why are we going to Egypt?'

'That's just it.' Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Mr Ambrose's hands curl into fists. 'It is not running. At least it does not seem to be at the moment. While we were away, trying to retrieve the plans for the canal from Lord Dalgliesh, this arrived at my office.'

Pulling an envelope out of his pocket, he held it up for me to see. The sharp wind blowing around us tugged at it, trying to pull it out of his hand. In spite of the paper's bending and fluttering, I could make out a strange, curly script all over it, and on the sheets of paper peeking out.

'What is that?'

'A letter from my agent in Alexandria, Mr Linton, telling me that my caravans across the Sinai Peninsula have recently been subject to raids.'

'Is that so?'

'Indeed it is. And not just normal raids, where the bandits grab everything they can and run. No, these were planned, coordinated and vicious attacks. Entire caravans were slaughtered – even the camels. And camels are expensive animals.'

I was gazing out over the ship at the bustling seamen. But I wasn't really seeing them. My brain was definitely switched on now, and the gears were whirring.

'Let me guess... your greatest competitor in the trade is Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.'

'Quite so. He transports the same goods I do, only he ships them around the Cape of Good Hope. A simpler process, but lengthier and more expensive.'

'What wonderful luck for Lord Dalgliesh that those bandits suddenly decided to have a go at your caravans, Sir.'

'Do you really believe in luck, Mr Linton?'

My lips twitched. 'No, Sir.'

'Neither do I.'

'So, what is the plan? We are going over there to make sure the authorities look into the matter?'

'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 Ambrose 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!

Finally, I made a compromise with myself. I wouldn't ask. No, I definitely wouldn't. But I could mention it to him, and if per chance he happened to tell me something of his own accord – well, then everybody would be happy, wouldn't they? And I would keep my sanity!

So the next morning, when Mr Ambrose had taken up his usual position on the command deck, glaring at sailors in a way that made them work very, very efficiently, I carefully sneaked up behind him and insinuated myself beside his hard, unmoving figure, appearing calm and natural. Or at least I hoped so.

'Nice weather today, don't you think so?' I observed.

'No.'

Oh... well, to each their own opinion.

'But the sea looks nice in the sunlight, doesn't it?'

'No.'

All right, the conversation was started. It wasn't the most promising start, true, but you couldn't have everything. I cleared my throat.

'By the way... do you per chance happen to have the key to those suitcases in my cabin?'

'Yes.'

I waited for more. Maybe for an offer to give me the key. It didn't come.

'Well... maybe we could have a look inside, some day.'

That wasn't a question! It wasn't! I was not going to ask!

His dark eyes didn't even glance at me. 'You don't need the contents yet, Mr Linton.'

'Indeed?'

'You'll need it only when we arrive.'

'This... contents sounds mysterious, Sir.'

I waited again.

'Does it, Mr Linton?'

Blast, blast, blast!

'Well, even if I don't need the contents, Sir...'

I let the sentence trail off suggestively. There was nothing but silence in answer. Apparently, Mr Ambrose was immune to suggestively trailed-off sentences. So I started again.

'Even if I don't need the contents now, there is a possibility, you know, that a hypothetical person, who is most certainly not me, might be slightly interested in knowing what it is right away.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes, Sir.' I turned my head away, trying to avoid his eyes. 'You see, if this hypothetical person were trapped on a hypothetical ship, and had nothing to do all day but to think about the hypothetical contents of these hypothetical cases, this might result in a certain lack of indifference in this hypothetical person towards knowing what might be in these hypothetical cases.'

'Mr Linton?'

'Yes, Sir?'

'Are you curious about what is in the cases in your cabin?'

'What? Me? Oh, no, no, no, Sir!'

'I see.' His broad shoulders did another one of those almost imperceptible shrugs. 'If that's the case, I suppose I do not need to tell you.'

'You could, if you wanted to,' I quickly offered, with my usual awe-inspiring magnanimity. 'I don't mind listening to you. I mean, we haven't got anything else to do, have we?'

He shrugged again. 'Of course we have. We can enjoy the beautiful weather and watch the nice-looking sea.'

The bloody b–! Strangle him! Strangle him! Strangle him now!

*~*~**~*~*

'Tell me! Tell me now! I can't stand it any longer! Just bloody hell tell me!'

All right, as most of you will have guessed by my eloquent speech above, I finally broke down and, in a very polite and civilized manner (for me) enquired about the contents of the suitcases. It was a few days after we had watched the beautiful weather and the nice-looking sea together. Mr Ambrose was standing at the bow, and I approached him, posing my polite question.

'Tell me, or I'll shove you overboard!'

Slowly, Mr Ambrose turned towards me, his chiselled head cocked to one side, and in this very cool and detached and perfectly genuine voice said: 'Tell you what, pray?'

Is he serious?

Nonsensical question. This was Rikkard Ambrose. Of course he was being serious.

'Those suitcases! What is in them?'

He cocked his head the other way. In his sleek black tailcoat he looked like some great jungle cat contemplating the best way to slay and eat me.

'Strange. I distinctly remember you mentioning that you were not curious about this.'

'I lied!'

'Indeed? I would never have guessed.'

He is making fun of me! I know it! I just know it!

So how come, if he was making fun of me, his face was still absolutely straight, looking as if it had been carved from the heart of a mountain?

Because he's a bastard, that's why!

Not able to find any counter-argument to this, I simply kept silent, inside and out, staring doggedly at Mr Ambrose. I was not going to beg! No, I was not!

But he merely turned away and started watching the ocean again. I wondered what had ever given me the idea that it looked nice. It was grotesque! Hideous! Beastly!

'Well?' I demanded. 'Are you going to answer or not?'

He didn't look at me. 'That depends, Mr Linton. Will you ask?'

'I did!'

'I should perhaps have clarified: will you ask in a civilized, respectful manner?'

Blast him! Why did he always have to pick the things that were most difficult to do? I swallowed, gulping down a goodly portion of my pride along with my saliva.

'Sir, will you please tell me what is in those suitcases in my cabin, Sir?'

All right, all right, I did beg, I know! I was shameless! A disgrace to feminism!

'I will do better than that.' Stepping back from the railing, he turned around and started striding away. 'I will show you.'

I was after him in a flash. Disgrace to feminism be dashed! I wanted to know what was in those cases right now, or even yesterday if possible! My overactive mind had already started conjuring up all sorts of things.

Maybe it's weapons! Guns and grenades and God knows what else...

But why would he store them in my cabin? I highly doubted Mr Ambrose intended me to be the spearhead of our offence.

Who knows? Even a man like him might turn sensible someday.

Perhaps there was money in those cases. Money to bribe informants with, to find out where the bandits are.

Come on, do you really believe that Mr Ambrose would waste money on that? He would just glare darkly at any informant, and they would spill their guts without him having to spend a penny! Besides, if it is money, it still doesn't make sense for him to put it in your cabin, does it? It has to be something to do with you, specifically!

But what exactly? What?

We had reached the door to my cabin by now.

'You–' I began.

He pushed the door open and marched inside.

'–may go in,' I finished with a sigh. Why did I even bother?

Shrugging, I followed him in. It was a lot more difficult to fit into the miniature cabin now that, besides the giant stack of cases and me, there was also the tall figure of Rikkard Ambrose in there. I almost had no choice but to press myself up against him. I swear, it was completely incidental that I got squashed against his flat, hard front.

'Well...' I cleared my throat. 'Let's get this over with.'

Taking a key out of his pocket, he pulled one of the cases towards him. My eyes were drawn magically towards it.

What is in there? Weapons? Money? Bearer bonds?

As he leaned forward, he couldn't help but press more tightly against me. I could feel the hard, lean muscles of his arm.

Or are there maps in there? With secret, safe ways through the desert? Hm... by the way, his arm does feel rather nice...

Hey! What the heck was that thought doing in my head?

The lock snapped open. With a shove, Mr Ambrose pushed back the lid of the case and revealed the contents.

No weapons. However, it wasn't money, bearer bonds or maps, either. Oh no. It was something completely different. Nothing could have prepared me for the magnificent sight that actually met my eyes.

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My dear Readers,

Once again, here are three proclamations from Sir Rob ;-)

TO MY WATTPAD READERS:

I hope you are happy with my decision to continue the story at its usual pace on wattpad? It is the best compromise I could make between becoming a professional writer and not disappointing all my wonderful wattpad fans! :)

I know that many of you, for one reason or another, can't get my stories on Radish. If you wish to lend your support to me, Lilly and Mr Ambrose in other ways, you can do so by leaving reviews for 'Storm and Silence' on Amazon.com. The official release date is fast approaching, and the more reviews I have, the more likely I can make it as a professional author! And if I achieve that, I can continue posting stories here on wattpad for your enjoyment! :)

TO MY RADISH READERS

My dear Radish-eating Ifrits! ;-) It is time to distribute the free Radish Coins. Following Mr Ambrose's business philosophy, the first person to comment on the next chapter here on wattpad (leaving their Radish username in the comment) will win first prize (100 free coins) the two people after that will win fifty coins each, and the sixteen people after that will win 25 coins each!

So... be ready, Ifrits! Here's your chance to win a whole lot of free chapters! :-)

Yours Truly, Sir Rob

TO ALL ANDROID USERS:

No worries, you are not forgotten! A Coin giveaway for you will be staged again the moment the Radish App is available for Android as well! :)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob

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GLOSSARY:

Alexandria: The biggest port city in Egypt.