I had never dressed that fast in my entire life. Five minutes later, I was striding down the street, on my way to Empire House. There probably was no reason to hurry - if Mr Ambrose had any sense in that hard head of his, he wouldn’t take action until nightfall. Still, the early worm catches the bird, or however the saying goes.
When I reached Empire House about a quarter of an hour later, I saw that arriving early had been a good idea: a familiar chaise, drawn by a shabby beast of a grey horse, was standing in front of the main entrance. Knowing that I would have to get past the grey monster, I approached carefully. It eyed me, with what I could only suppose was a mix of interest and appetite.
I raised a cautioning finger.
‘If you bite me, I’ll bite back,’ I told him. Nobody would be able to say I didn’t warn him.
The horse snorted and turned its head away derisively.
Quickly, I stole past the beast and into the main hall. It was completely deserted. Nobody was in sight. The gigantic man-made cave of Mammon was as silent as its master. My steps echoed from the wall as I hurried across the floor and towards the steps, wondering why he was going this early. Did he still have preparations to make?
Maybe he simply wants to avoid you. Isn’t that nice?
On reaching the upper landing, I heard familiar voices from the hallway. One was especially familiar.
‘…quicker, Karim! We have places to be.’
‘Yes, Sahib.’
‘And double-check everything.’
Cool? Check. Distant? Check. Forbidding and reserved? Check. Now, who could this possibly be?
Carefully, I peeked around the corner and there he stood: Mr Rikkard Ambrose, a motionless figure in white and black, overseeing Karim, who was packing a few scrolls of paper into a bag. They looked like maps to me. Or ground plans.
‘…the main entrance. Soldiers will be stationed there.’
‘Yes, Sahib.’
Mr Ambrose stood more like an Ancient Greek statue than ever, his body now as motionless as his face, his figure erect, his eyes distant, as if looking at something three thousand years away.
Well, it was high time to startle some life into him.
I stepped out into the hall.
‘Hello, everybody.’
Mr Ambrose jumped in a most un-statue-like way. He whirled around, and his hand was already on its way to grip his sword cane when his eyes fell on me.
‘You!’
‘Yes, I.’ I marched forward and stopped only a few feet away from him, my fists on my hips. ‘What did you think? That I was going to stay home and miss all the fun?’
‘It was probably too much to expect sensible behaviour from you, for once.’ His eyes flashed, darkly. ‘I certainly didn’t expect you to be here this early.’
Ha! I knew it! He had known I would show up, but had hoped to be gone before I did so.
‘Well, I’m a morning person,’ I told him with a bright, fake smile.
‘I told you to stay away!’
‘Yes, well, I ignored you.’
‘I can see that.’ He took a step closer, bending forward a little. ‘I am displeased, Mr Linton, to put it mildly. Leave. Now.’
‘No.’
‘Mr Linton?’ He took another step closer. His eyes grew darker and stormier the closer he got. ‘I am going to do something I have never done to an employee in my entire life.’ Slowly, he bent forward, fixing me with his cold, sea-coloured gazes. ‘I’m giving you the day off. Go!’
‘No.’
‘Didn’t you hear me? You have a holiday in front of you! Enjoy it! It’ll be the last you’ll get out of me for the next five hundred years.’
‘You can take your holiday and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine! I’m coming with you!’
‘You work for me! You have to obey me.’
I raised my chin, meeting his gaze without blinking. ‘If you give me the day off, that means today I don't work for you, and I can do as I wish. And I wish to accompany you.’ Gesturing to Karim. ‘I can’t let you walk into danger with only him around for protection.’
The Mohammedan’s eyes bulged, and I fancy he would have said something pretty explicit, had not Mr Ambrose spoken first.
‘And what,’ he asked, his voice as cold as the North Pole, ‘makes you think I am going to let you accompany us?’
‘Oh you probably won’t.’ I shrugged. ‘But I can hire a cab and follow you. It’s as simple as that.’
‘I see.’ For a few moments, Mr Ambrose regarded me in silence. Then: ‘All right. You have won, Mr Linton. You can come.’
I wasn’t sure whether I’d heard correctly.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I said, you can come. I am not fond of repeating myself, Mr Linton.’