Storm and Silence(299)

‘Really? Early?’ Mr Ambrose’s voice rang with honest surprise. ‘Are you sure, Colonel…?’

‘Colonel Townsend.’

‘Are you sure that we’re early, Colonel Townsend, Sir?’ Taking his own watch out of his pocket, Mr Ambrose let it snap open. ‘Sorry, Sir, but according to my watch we’re exactly on time. Look.’

The officer stepped up beside Mr Ambrose and looked over his shoulder.

‘Struth! You are absolutely right, soldier. It’s just time for the guard to change. How the time flies.’

‘And my watch is very reliable, Sir.’

‘Looks like it.’ Colonel Townsend glanced at the silver pocket watch with admiring eyes. ‘Mine is such a modern piece of trash. Yours looks like a much nicer piece. A family heirloom?’

A muscle in Mr Ambrose’s jaw twitched. Suddenly, he didn’t look nearly as much like the obedient soldier of a second ago. ‘Yes! Why?’

The officer seemed taken aback by such abrupt tones from an underling. ‘I just asked because the crest on the lid looks a little familiar.’

With an obvious effort, Mr Ambrose forced a polite mask on his face. ‘My… father gave it to me, Sir’

His father? I stared at him out of the corner of my eye. Mr Ambrose had a father? Did that mean he had actually been conceived in connubial congress, not hewn out of the rock of some mountain, as I had always suspected? Could it be true? Or just another lie to put the officer off?

‘I see.’ The colonel shrugged. ‘Well, you may continue, men. I’ll have to go and reset my watch…’

And he went off, mumbling about unreliable modern mechanics.

We continued up the stairs. I did my best to try and appear calm, ignoring the fact that my heart was pounding and my head was buzzing with a thousand questions.

‘How did you know when they changed the guard here?’ I demanded in a low voice, as soon as he was out of earshot.

And do you really have a father? Well, do you? And if so, how did your poor mother ever survive giving birth to a living rock?

‘I didn’t, Mr Linton. I knew from Warren’s report when the guard changed at number 97 East India Dock Road, and, based on the hypothesis that all the Presidency Army soldiers were likely to operate on the same schedule, I set my watch to local time before we went into the mine.’

I had to admit, he had brains, even if they were frozen. But that answer wasn’t enough. I itched to ask him just one more question.

Was the watch really your father’s? Why is there a crest on the lid? Does it really belong to a noble family, and if so, what the heck are you doing with it? You’re no nobleman, right?

All right, maybe that was more than just one question. To be honest, I had a mountain of questions about him, his somewhat scary plans for the domination of all the trade in the world, and his past, and his future. But none of these things were actually any of my business, and with us sneaking into the villain’s lair, this was certainly not the right time and place for curiosity. So I swallowed my questions and followed him up the stairs, until we reached a large landing at the top, hewn out of the rock floor of the raised plateau.

We had hardly set foot on the stone when, from up ahead, we heard voices. Among the echoing noises of the busy cave, they were too indistinct for me to recognize - but not for Mr Ambrose.

‘Get down!’

Grabbing my arm, he shoved me behind one of the wooden buildings that stood right beside the landing. Stumbling, I fell to my knees, and remained like that, cowering on the cold stone, while the voices drew nearer. Mr Ambrose appeared beside me, his whole body tensed like a panther about to spring.

We waited, in silence. I didn’t dare move a single muscle.

‘…the men made any progress so far?’ A familiar smooth, magnanimous voice came from the other side of the building. It sounded so charming, so relaxed. Even now, knowing what I knew, I could hardly believe this was Lord Dalgliesh, chief shareholder of the Honourable East India Company and close friend to the Crown, discussing criminal enterprises.

‘No, My Lord. The code of the documents in question seems to be well developed.’

‘I see. Please be so kind as to see to it that they are properly motivated, will you? I wish them to understand how important this project is to me and to the Company.’

‘Um, yes, My Lord. I shall think of a suitable motivation.’

‘Excellent. I’m sure I can rely on you.’

‘Yes, My Lord. Certainly, My Lord.’

‘And what about the diplomatic treaties that were not encoded? The secret agreements with Muhammad Ali Pasha? Were they genuine?’

‘Oh yes, My Lord. Every word.’