Storm and Silence

87. Nemesis

"Keep your head down," Mr Ambrose said in a low voice. "We wouldn't want to be spotted, now, would we?"

The double-meaning in his words was evident – and he was right. I didn't want to be spotted by people on the docks. And I definitely didn't want to be spotted by the people on the ship for what I really was.

There was a guard at the door we were approaching. Mr Ambrose made a motion with his head, and he opened the door for us. Without saying "thank you" or even nodding, Mr Ambrose pushed me past him and down into the darkness. The door closed behind us.

We stood in a narrow passageway, its walls made of dull grey steel. A lamp dangled from a hook in the wall, painting the steel with flickering stains of red and yellow. Turning around, I jabbed at the insignias on Mr Ambrose's uniform.

"Do you have a higher rank than those fellows out there?" I demanded.

"Higher rank, Mr Linton?"

"Yes! They keep doing what you tell them to do. Well, actually it's worse. They keep doing what you want without you having to tell them to. Are you a Lieutenant, or Colonel or something?"

Mr Ambrose gave me a look. "It has nothing to do with rank, Mr Linton. In fact I am masquerading as a simple soldier. One simply has to act as if one has no doubt that people will do as one wishes. In most cases, that will take them by surprise so much that they forget to refuse. Now come."

He started down the corridor, and I had already taken the first two steps after him before I realized what I was doing.

One simply has to act as if one has no doubt that people will do as one wishes. In most cases, that will take them by surprise so much that they forget to refuse.

For a moment, I considered refusing, just for the fun of it. But then, I sighed, and shook my head. Now wasn't the time.

We continued down the corridor. In more or less regular intervals, we came upon metal doors set into walls that seemed to serve no particular purpose.

"Bulkheads," Mr Ambrose said when I asked about them. "Walls separating the ship into smaller compartments. They normally just serve the purpose of giving the vessel more structure and stability. But these look to be watertight. In the event of a cannonball penetrating the outer hull, the door can be closed and the ship can fight on as if practically nothing happened. It's the first time I've seen something like this in a warship."

His words sent a cold shiver down my spine. I bit my lip to contain my anxiety.

"Where are we heading, exactly?" I asked.

"Nowhere. The ship is not very large. To judge by eye, I would say a length of eighty-four feet, and maybe a draught of six or seven feet. We are going to search it from top to bottom until we find the file. Then we are going to leave."

"Don't you think that plan might be a little simplistic?"

"No."

And that was it. I didn't get another word out of him. We marched through dark, dank corridors of steel, now and then opening a door to the left or the right to spy into a tiny steel compartment. They all held crates of different shapes and sizes. Apparently, Mr Ambrose's file wasn't the only thing Lord Dalgliesh was eager to get out of the country.

Finally, we came to a junction where the corridor split into two.

"Should we split up?" I asked, keeping my voice down. I thought I could hear the faint mumbling of voices somewhere, and they had better not hear us.

Mr Ambrose shook his head.

"Smell that?" He pointed down one corridor. "That way smells of oil and smoke. The engine room will be down there. Lord Dalgliesh would never keep such sensitive papers anywhere near a burning fire. Let's go this way."