Storm and Silence(72)

Immediately I knew what it had to be. A map of London. A map for the hunters.

What in heaven’s name could have been stolen that Mr Ambrose was so desperate to discover? And why wouldn’t he tell anyone what it was? Why wouldn’t he tell me?

‘Gather round.’ Mr Ambrose took up his position at the desk and gestured for Karim, Warren and me to do likewise. The two dozen or so men whom Warren had brought with him posted themselves at either entrance to the room.

Some of the men, including Warren but excluding Mr Ambrose, took out cigars and lit them. Not used to the smell, I wrinkled my nose - but I would have to get used to this if I really intended to work among men.

‘We have to come up with a strategy to track Simmons,’ Mr Ambrose said. ‘Suggestions, gentlemen.’

And ladies, I thought, but didn’t say it. Instead I said: ‘Well… maybe we should start by thinking about motive. Why did he steal the file?’

‘Because he wanted it, obviously,’ said Mr Ambrose. ‘I should perhaps have clarified: Intelligent suggestions.’

‘That is not what I meant,’ I snapped. ‘I meant… what does the file contain? Why exactly did he want it for himself?’

‘None of you are to know what the file contains, Mr Linton. Nor do I see that it is in any way necessary.’

‘It is necessary if we want to know where he will go next and what he will do,’ I persisted. God, he really had trust issues. ‘For example - if it simply is a folder containing banknotes, he’ll just flee the city. If it is some important document, he might try to sell it. If it is a letter from one of your secret lady friends, he will try to blackmail you.’

Mr Warren almost swallowed his cigar. Slowly, Mr Ambrose, who had been staring down at the table, looked up at me and fixed me with his cold gaze. I tried my best to meet his eyes without flinching.

‘Well, I can guarantee you, Mr Linton, that it is not a letter from one of my secret lady friends. They would not waste their time writing letters to me they know I would not read.’

Now it was my turn to stare. Was he being serious? Did he really have a secret lady friend or, God forbid, several? For heaven’s sake, I had been trying to make a joke!

Perhaps not the best of ideas where he was concerned.

‘Well,’ I said as steadily as possible, ‘that leaves two of the possibilities I have outlined. Which is it?’

He remained silent.

‘Just a general indication,’ I coaxed. ‘Come on. You have got to give us something.’

Warren cleared his throat, taking this opportunity to rid himself of the bitten off pieces of his cigar that were still stuck there.

‘I think I must agree with Mr Linton, Sir. Without any idea of what the document in question is, we have little hope of catching the thief.’

Mr Ambrose stayed silent for one moment longer - then he nodded curtly.

‘Number two,’ he stated.

I frowned. What was he talking about? ‘Excuse me?’

‘Number two,’ he repeated. ‘The second possibility you outlined. There are no banknotes in the file. It is an important document.’ Taking a deep breath, he added: ‘More important than you can imagine.’

‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ I sighed.

‘Can he sell it to anyone, Sir?’ Warren inquired.

‘Only to the right people. And by right I do not mean “right” as in “right and honourable”. I mean people with limitless cash and little conscience.’

I almost said, ‘Oh, you mean people like yourself?’ But I held my tongue. My natural tendency to bad manners was not well placed here if I wanted to keep my job.

‘These people,’ I asked, ‘are they here in London, or could they be anywhere in the country?’

‘Theoretically, they could be anywhere. But it is most likely that they would be here. This is the centre of the British Empire, the power-hub for a fifth of the earth’s surface - the best place to transact any kind of business, whether legitimate or otherwise.’

‘But we had better make sure, hadn’t we?’ I said with a sweet smile. ‘Somebody told me once it’s better to always verify.’

Mr Ambrose gave me another one of his cold stares. ‘That must have been a very wise person.’ Turning, he nodded to Karim. ‘Go, take a few of the men and check Euston station. I want a description of all the passengers who left in the last few days and don’t care how you get it. If there’s anyone there who fits Simmons’ description - find him, grab him, hold him. I do not care if it should happen to be the Prime Minister.’

‘Is Simmons easy to recognize?’ I asked as Karim marched out of the room with seven henchmen at his heels.