‘But not in any way helpful,’ I pointed out.
‘On the contrary, Mr Linton.’ There was a cold gleam in his eyes. ‘Think about it. They are going to bring the file aboard the ship. Its current location is probably a separate, heavily guarded room. Even people dressed up as soldiers, as we are, would not be let in without a very good reason. But on the ship, things are different. People of all sorts hurry about, loading the vessel, checking security, carrying messages - it will be the ideal environment for us to retrieve the file. We will wait until it has been put aboard, then we will pretend to be part of the ship’s military escort and go through the tunnel. Having acquired the file, we will not return here, but simply leave the ship at the docks, and, discarding our disguise, make our way back to the carriage.’
‘What a brilliant plan, Sir. Of course, it all depends on whether this tunnel down in the hall actually leads to the docks, which at present is pure speculation.’
Mr Ambrose gave me a cool look. ‘I would rather refer to it as a hypothesis based on circumstantial evidence, Mr Linton.’
‘Would you indeed, Sir? And, assuming the tunnel really does lead to the docks, we will, of course, also have to worm our way through countless layers of guards and soldiers, and manage not to get caught and shot in the process.’
‘Naturally, Mr Linton.’
The coolness in his gaze intensified. He regarded me like a not particularly interesting bug under a microscope. I knew very well what he was thinking. He was thinking I was afraid.
Well… he was right about that. But he didn’t need to know that.
‘All right.’ Taking a deep breath, I stood up again and placed the blue hat on my head. It didn’t seem quite so ridiculous to me anymore. It and the rest of the uniform were all that stood between me and a fate I didn’t want to imagine. ‘Let’s go.’
For a single moment, Mr Ambrose looked almost - almost! - taken aback. Then he swiftly rose, too, and re-hatted himself. He was looking at me out of slightly narrowed, immeasurably dark eyes.
‘You are really going to come with me?’
‘Naturally.’ Those eyes… I could drown in them and never even want to breathe again.
‘But you just told me how dangerous it is.’
‘Well…’ I did my best to conjure up a brave smile. It wasn’t easy while he was looking at me like this. My knees felt as if they wanted to give way any minute. ‘They say fortune favours the brave, don’t they?’
‘Yes!’ Mr Ambrose growled. ‘And they are stupid. In my experience, fortune favours the powerful and ruthless.’
‘Well, we should be all right, then, shouldn’t we?’ I grinned up at him. ‘After all, you’ve got me on your side.’
He took a step towards me. ‘You have a very singular personality, Mr Linton.’
I couldn’t hide my smile. ‘Singular? You mean special, like Joan of Arc, or Queen Gwendolen[51]?’
‘Not exactly.’ His hands came up to clasp my shoulders. ‘I was thinking more like an Ifrit.’
It took me a moment to realize I wasn’t offended. Why wasn’t I offended? And why the heck was I still smiling? He had just compared me to some kind of demon from hell!
His grip on my arms tightened. The darkness in his eyes flared.
‘Mr Linton, I…’ For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more. But I should have known better. This was Mr Rikkard Ambrose. When did he ever want to say more or, for that matter, anything at all?
Instead, he suddenly let go, righted himself and stepped past me. ‘We’ve wasted enough time, Mr Linton. Follow me!’ he ordered without turning. ‘And be silent. If we encounter resistance, leave the talking to me.’
‘And if we encounter resistance that can’t be solved by talking, Sir?’
Dumping on the ground the leather bag he had brought with him all the way, he opened it and retrieved an object out of it: a long object made of gleaming wood and silvery metal. I sucked in a breath at the sight of the state-of-the-art rifle. His eyes met mine.
‘Leave that to me, too.’
*~*~**~*~*
Mr Ambrose’s snappy salute was so convincing that the guard at the entrance to the tunnel let us through without uttering a single word. He just saluted in return. I, too, attempted a salute and somehow managed one without knocking the blue hat off my head.
We stepped past the guard in silence. Before us loomed the black jaws of the tunnel. I couldn’t help it - a final time, I glanced up at the giant figures of the two roaring, golden lions hanging high above us. Their eyes seemed to be trained directly on me, watching my every move, knowing I did not belong here.