The Final Storm

11.All Roads Lead to...Delhi?

Maybe he could. I wouldn't put it past him.

With a sigh, I stepped up beside him and slid an arm around his waist, leaning into his solid warmth. The ocean had never looked so beautiful before.

"You're an amazing brother, you know. And an amazing husband."

"I do not know what you could possibly mean, Mrs Ambrose."

"I'm sure you don't." Standing on tiptoes, I pressed a gentle kiss onto his cheek. "In any case, thank you."

"People keep saying that for some reason."

"Hm." I smirked. "That's what happens when you do nice things. Must be a novel experience for you."

"Indeed." Out of the corner of his eye, he cast a glance at me. "Although besides being 'nice', there is one more reason I wish to go to India."

Surprised, I glanced sideways up at his face. "What? What kind of reason could there possibly be?"

His eyes glittered icily. "I really want to see Dalgliesh's face when his empire starts to crumble around him."

***

In the most luxurious district of a certain Indian city stood an opulent building. A building that, in fact, was so luxurious that it might very well have been mistaken for a palace if not for the brightly painted sign above the door.

Langham-Lagrange Gentleman's Club

(For Whites Only)

Quite the strange sign, in fact, because none of the men inside the club looked particularly gentle. And instead of white, their faces came in different shades of pink and (in various alcoholic cases) a deep red. Merely one private booth in a corner was occupied by a man with pale, aristocratic skin and a golden lion's mane of hair.

Only...despite the smile on his face, he looked even less gentle than anyone else here.

"So," he asked the man sitting opposite him, "how are our things progressing?"

Bowing hurriedly, the other man displayed a flattering smile. "Quite excellently, Lord Dalgliesh. The profits from the trade in China are rising year by year and more people are persuaded to try our product every month. And once they try it, well..."

A smile played around the corners of Dalgliesh's mouth. "The best kind of product—the one you cannot stop buying."

"Indeed, Your Lordship. Although..."

The smile on Dalgliesh's face froze. "Yes?"

"The, um...Emperor seems to have expressed his displeasure at the continuing expansion of the trade."

"Oh?" The frozen smile on His Lordship's face turned even colder. It certainly was not a happy smile anymore. "I want to sell opium in China, and a mere Emperor of China dares to disagree with me? I applaud the man's courage!"

Two steel-blue eyes bored into the cowering man in the corner of the booth. "Fenton, give out the order: the sale of opium is to be doubled in the next five years! I want the whole of China to be populated with drooling idiots who can do nothing but hand over their money to me, begging for drugs!"

"Yes, My Lord! Only..."

"Hm?"

"What if the emperor retaliates?"

"Don't you worry." Dismissively, Dalgliesh patted his subordinate's shoulder, then wiped his hand on a silk handkerchief. "There is nothing in the world that cannot be solved with diplomacy."

Upon hearing that, Fenton had a distinctly sceptical look on his face. "Diplomacy?"

"Oh yes." Reaching out for a nearby crystal glass, Dalgliesh took a sip of dark red wine. It was so dark that it almost looked like blood. "Gunboat diplomacy."