Storm and Silence(71)

During the following hours I worked ceaselessly, clearing up the mess my dear master had left behind. He wouldn’t have an excuse to accuse me of slacking, oh no! The task actually wasn’t as hard as I had feared. All the folders strewn over the floor were numbered. Since I had already fully grasped the sorting system, and the one here in the safe was simply an extension of that in my office, I got on quickly, and orderly rows of boxes grew on the shelves.

Finally, the door to my office opened and I heard his unmistakable voice.

‘Are you done, Warren?’

‘Nearly, Mr Ambrose.’

‘As soon as you’re done here, prepare your men for a little trip, by which I do not mean a stroll in the park. Do we understand each other?’

‘Yes, Mr Ambrose.’

‘Very well. I shall join you in a minute, as soon as I’ve seen how my little Ifrit is doing.’

‘Your what, Sir?’

‘Forget what I said, Warren.’

‘Yessir!’

His little Ifrit? I supposed I should have been outraged, him calling me names and all, but for some strange reason I felt warm inside. Maybe because of my flaming wings, who knew?

Mr Ambrose had obviously not intended for me to hear his words. Quickly and quietly I closed the door to the safe room, just as he had left it, and retreated to a corner, a demure little smile on my face as I looked around the room. All right, maybe the smile wasn’t totally demure. Maybe it was even a little bit self-satisfied. So what?

The door was pushed open and Mr Ambrose entered. ‘I will be leaving on the search soon,’ he began. ‘So sorry that you are occupied and can’t come with us. How many hours do you think you will still need to finish your…’

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the safe-room, his voice trailed off.

‘You were saying?’ I inquired sweetly.

Slowly, Mr Ambrose’s gaze wandered over the long rows of impeccably ordered boxes on the shelves of the safe room. He bent to examine the floor, maybe in the hope that he could find a stray piece of paper still lying somewhere, or at least a few flecks of dust.

When he finally straightened again, his eyes fixed on me.

‘You are finished?’

‘Yes. Why?’ I fluttered my eyelashes at him. ‘Were you by any chance expecting me to take longer?’

‘No,’ he lied smoothly. ‘In fact I was expecting you to be finished long ago. Don’t be so lazy again, or I will have to reduce your wages.’

‘Well, well.’ I glared at him, even though for some strange reason, inside I wasn’t feeling angry. Somehow I knew he was only putting on a show, and I was dancing in triumph. ‘You had better stop or you’ll drown me in compliments for my work.’

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he assured me. ‘That will never, ever happen.’

I could readily believe it.

‘Mr Ambrose?’ The man called Warren appeared at the door to the safe room. He was an average-looking fellow with a thin moustache and a high forehead. Spotting me, he looked at me curiously for a second. Then his gaze returned to our master. ‘We’re ready to go, Sir.’

‘I see.’ Mr Ambrose’s voice was as cool as could be. ‘Warren, I think you haven’t met before?’ He indicated me. ‘This…’ he swallowed as if he had to get something unpleasant down his throat. ‘This is Mr Linton. My new… private secretary.’

‘I see. A pleasure to meet you, Mr Linton.’ Warren extended his hand to me. As if in a dream, I took it and shook it.

‘Likewise,’ I heard myself say.

He has admitted it! He has admitted to another person that I work for him!

‘Enough pleasantries,’ Mr Ambrose cut short our pleasantries. Abruptly he whirled to the door. ‘We have a thief to catch.’ With two long strides he was outside and out of sight. ‘Come!’ We heard his commanding voice from outside. ‘Both of you!’

I was still so thrilled by his admission that it took me a few seconds to register his words.

‘W-what?’ I managed. ‘Me, too?’

‘Are you deaf? Get a move on, Mr Linton!’

I jumped up so fast you might have thought a scorpion had stung me. Following Mr Ambrose out of the safe, I saw that he had crossed my office and was standing at the connecting door to his own. He thrust it open and we followed him inside the large, bare and empty room.

A room which was no longer bare and empty. I had been mistaken, thinking that my office was the thief hunter HQ. It had just been a temporary space until things were set up in here.

People were standing all around: men with nondescript faces, in nondescript clothes. On the desk lay a gigantic map, larger than any I had seen before, even in the British Museum. It detailed not the world, but, to judge from the web of jagged lines, some vast city in fine detail.