A knock sounded and, a moment later, the door to the office of the shipping company's director was pushed open and a nervous secretary stuck his head into the room.
"Um...Sir? There's someone here to see you and—"
"Not now!" the man inside the office barked. "I'm busy!"
"But, Sir—"
"I said not now!"
The voice was more than loud enough to hear it from where I stood outside the office. Cocking an eyebrow, I exchanged a mirthful look with my husband. Well, at least it was mirthful on my part.
"I have to admit, the next part is always rather amusing. We should tour your companies more often."
"We can do that," he agreed, his face unmoving. "But next time, not to find my missing sister."
My smile dropped instantly. "No. Not for that."
"Speaking of which—let's not waste any more time." Striding forward, Mr Rikkard Ambrose pushed past the stammering secretary and slammed open the door.
"What do you think you are doing? I said I am not to be dis...dis..." The director's voice trailed off for a moment, before it came back as a timid squeak. "B-boss?"
"Indeed."
"W-what can I d-do for you, boss? The shipping company is entirely at your disposal. If you need to travel somewhere—"
"I don't need a ship," Mr Ambrose cut the other man off ruthlessly. "I need information. There is a woman I'm looking for, and I require you to provide me with all your passenger lists for the ships that departed during the last ten days. Right now."
"Naturally, Sir. Naturally." Even from outside the office, I could practically hear the sound of boots being licked. "Although, if you are looking for female company, there are other, far more convenient ways for a man of your status, Sir. I know an establishment for gentlemen in this area that caters to every taste imaginable. May I ask what kind of woman you are looking for, Sir?"
"My sister." The voice of Mr Rikkard Ambrose could not have been icier if he had frozen his vocal cords. "I am looking for my sister."
Deathly silence spread through the office. I decided that this was the perfect moment to make my appearance. Sticking my head through the doorway, I gifted the man behind the desk with a beaming smile. "And I'm his wife. Hello there!"
The rest of the colour drained from the man's already ashen face, and he slumped forward, his face landing on the desk with a thump.
"Sir? Sir!" the secretary exclaimed and rushed forward. After a moment of checking on his boss, he hurried out the door. "Somebody! Somebody fetch smelling salts!"
"See what I mean?" One corner of my mouth twitched. "Amusing. We'll definitely do this tour again."
Once the poor man was awakened and discovered that, unfortunately, his recent experience had not been a bad dream, we quickly discovered that Adaira had not come to this particular shipping company. Just as she had not seen fit to use the last five we had visited.
"What if she went to another harbour city?" I fretted. "Or what if she went to one of your competitors? Not all shipping companies in the world belong to you, you know. Just most of them."
"One, my men are already checking that. Two, I will politely enquire with my competitors as to whether my sister was among their passengers." His eyes darkened. "I would like to see the man who refuses to answer."
To be honest, so would I. Extraordinary courage was always something worth seeing.
"Well..." Sidling up to him with a smile, I nodded towards the door. "Then let's not keep those lucky people waiting, shall we?"
He flexed his fingers. "Indeed."
With a slight inclination of the head, he offered me his arm. I took it and, together, we strode out of the office building. During the next few hours, we visited seven shipping companies in succession, some of which did indeed not belong to my dear husband and were less than happy about receiving a surprise visit from Mr Rikkard Ambrose. But, in the end, they all gave up their passenger lists. Apparently, an irate Mr Ambrose in big brother mode could be quite convincing. Yet, ultimately, it all turned out to be fruitless.
Why?
Adaira's name was not on any of the lists. Not that I had really expected it to be. Adaira was a smart girl, more than smart enough to come up with a fake name. But even once we had questioned the various companies' personnel and given them Adaira's description, we still drew a blank.
Wham!
The door of the last shipping company slammed open and Mr Rikkard Ambrose stalked out onto the street. It wasn't long before I followed in his wake, doing my best to keep up with him with my considerably shorter legs.
"Was that the last one?" I quietly asked.
"Nearly." His fists clenched. "There are a few smaller companies we have not checked yet, but Adaira is not likely to even know about those. Naturally, we will check them anyway, but..."
"But we probably won't find anything."
In the long shadows cast by the sinking sun, I couldn't see my husband's face to try and read his expression. Not that he would have any expression, most likely. Yet his silence told me enough.
"Come." Gently, I linked my arm with his. "Let's go home. We'll continue tomorrow."
He didn't move.
"Mr Ambrose?"
He still didn't move. Didn't.
"Mr Ambrose? Shall we go home?"
"I...might have rented out our house when we left for the Caribbean."
Suddenly, my grip on his arm wasn't quite so gentle anymore. "Did you, now?"
"It was just sitting there, empty and unused."
I took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then I slowly explained, as if speaking to a five-year-old, I explained: "That's because it is a home. A home is supposed to be empty when you are away, so you can move back in when you return. Is this idea too complicated for you, Sir? Do I have to draw you a diagram?"
"No need," he replied graciously, as if that was the point of my little speech.
I gifted my dear husband with a bright smile. "You, sir, are sleeping in the dog house tonight."
"Mrs Ambrose...the dog house is on the grounds of our house. You know, the one I rented out?"
My eyebrows twitched. "I would say that you'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight, but I suppose we don't have one of those, either."
"Not as such."
"All right." Heaving a sigh, I pinned him with my gaze. "Where is the nearest hotel you own?"
My husband opened his mouth. "It's—"
"And by 'hotel', I mean five-star hotel with luxurious suites and soft beds! Our son will not be staying in some no-name hovel."
Immediately, he closed his mouth again. Taking a deep breath, he made a wordless gesture at Karim, who pulled open the door to the carriage that had been waiting for us. Before he could even think of helping me up the stairs, I was already inside and cuddling Berty.
"Did you hear that, my little angel?" I cooed. "The big, bad man rented out our house. You have to help me punish him later, when he is on diaper duty. You'll do that for mama, won't you?"
"Papa!" Berty exclaimed happily. "Papa gimme ma-nee!"
My eyebrows twitched again. I would have to see to it that we got our house back as soon as possible, if only so I had a dog house to stick my husband into.
"Then it'll be just the two of us." With a sigh, I leaned back into the upholstery, rocking my little bundle of perfection in my arms. "You'd like that, Berty, wouldn't you? You'd like to spend some time with mama."
Giggling, Berty nodded happily. "Ma-nee! Ma-nee!"
The dog house was too good for Rikkard Ambrose. Maybe I could have a sheep pen constructed in the back garden?
"Whatever it is that you're up to, Mrs Ambrose," my husband's voice came from beside me as he climbed into the coach, "forget it."
"Me?" In utter innocence, I widened my eyes. "I'm just taking care of my darling son and not selling our house like some people. What makes you think I'm up to something?"
The only thing I got in response to that was a meaningful look that said: Because you are you.
That son of a bachelor. His time in the sheep pen had just doubled.
Or at least that was what I thought until we arrived at the city's most luxurious hotel, a massive, five story palace named Bowl of Ambrosia. The entire place was painted in resplendent white, with gilded columns along the façade. It screamed 'luxury' so loudly that I was surprised I hadn't turned deaf yet. All in all, the likelihood of finding a sheep pen in the garden was rather remote.
A fact that Mr Rikkard Ambrose seemed to be aware of, judging by the way he confidently strode into the foyer. With a single gesture, he gained everyone's attention. "A double bedroom. And have a cradle set up in an adjoining room."
"M-Mr Ambrose, Sir? Of course, Sir! Right away, Sir!" Hurriedly, the concierge gestured to one of his subordinates. "I'll have the best suite prepared for you immediately! They're occupied right now, but it's just an insignificant dignitary. I can have him thrown out and—"
"No! Don't you dare! Do you have any idea what kind of effect that would have on the business of my—"
It was at that point he seemed to notice my gaze boring into his back and hurriedly broke off, clearing his throat.
"—I mean, yes, by all means, clear the suite room for me and my dear family."
"As you wish, Sir! I will send someone to take care of the matter this very moment."
Two minutes later, we were in a freshly cleaned, luxurious suite overlooking the garden behind the hotel. You had to give it to the employees of Mr Rikkard Ambrose: they moved fast. My husband, however, didn't seem to be in the mood to take pride in his subordinates. He was currently standing in front of the window, looking out over the garden and the city beyond. There was a tense set to his shoulders, and his fingers were rhythmically clenching and unclenching.
Biting my lip, I hesitated. He really deserved some time in the dog house, but...
Oh, to hell with it!
Two swift steps carried me forward, and I enveloped him in a tight hug from behind.
"Don't worry. We'll find her."
"I know." I heard the words he didn't say: because I'll make it so, or die trying. "I know. But...just the fact that she's out there, alone and in danger, and I can't do anything but sit around and wait...!"
He clenched his fists.
"Would you like to do some paperwork to make you feel better?"
"You know me so well, Mrs Ambrose."
Um...all right. That was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood, yet I probably should have known better. This was Mr Rikkard Ambrose, after all.
"But before that, I still have other business to take care of." Squaring his shoulders, Mr Ambrose freed himself from my embrace and turned to face the door. I followed his example, just in time to see Karim shuffle into the room with a pink-painted crib on his shoulder. Too bad I didn't have a camera.
"Sahib, where should I put this? In this room or the one next to—"
"Karim." Mr Ambrose's curt, ice-cold voice stopped the bodyguard in mid-sentence.
Setting down the crib, Karim stood at attention. "Yes, Sahib?"
"I gave you a task earlier. Is it done? Have the preparations in regard to Dalgliesh been taken care of?"
"Yes, Sahib."
At that answer, Mr Ambrose's eyes flashed darkly. "Adequate."
"What preparations?" I enquired. It was impossible not to notice the sudden shift of the atmosphere to something more sinister.
The cold light in my husband's eyes didn't disappear. "You remember the piece of information I was holding over Dalgliesh's head? The one I used to force him to leave us alone?"
"Um...you mean the piece of information that would bring the entire East India Company to its knees and launch a war against Dalgliesh's rule across the whole Indian subcontinent?"
"Indeed."
I swallowed. "W-what about it?"
"Well..." He cocked his head. "Now that Dalgliesh has once more plotted against us, and it is ultimately because of him that Adaira has disappeared, there is no sense in keeping this information secret anymore, is there?"
A cold shiver went down my back.
"You mean...?"
He met my gaze. "The messengers are already on their way to India."
Messengers, he says! Provocateurs, more like.
I swallowed once more. It was getting harder and harder, with my mouth suddenly feeling so dry. "And...the result?"
"Let's just say that in a few months, India will be a very lively place. I've heard that, over there, they've been chafing under the rule of the East India Company for a long time now. There should be quite a lot of people interested in a change of regime. Correct, Karim?"
The flash of teeth that appeared from deep within Karim's beard would have fit well on a hungry bear. "Quite correct, Sahib."
A vindictive smile spread across my face. Dalgliesh...that man had haunted our lives since the first day I'd met my husband. No, long before that. It was Dalgliesh who was responsible for Mr Ambrose fleeing his home when he was but a child. It was Dalgliesh who plunged Adaira and her mother into poverty. It was Dalgliesh who had tried to split my husband and me apart, hurt us and kill us on several occasions.
Finally, he would get his comeuppance. Now the only thing missing was for Adaira to be here, and life would be perfect.
"Waaaah! Waaaah!"
Correction: now, only someone needed to invent self-changing diapers, and then life would be perfect.
Although, speaking of self-changing diapers...what were husbands for?
I gave my dear spouse a meaningful smile that essentially said: What will it be? Diapers or dog house?
I had to give it to Mr Ambrose: he was extraordinarily well-versed in silent conversation. Without a word, he stalked over to the crib and picked up a bundle of diapers. That night, I slept blissfully while my husband was being a caring father. Wasn't he amazing? At this rate, I might even scrap my plans for buying a herd of sheep to share his sheep pen.
The next morning, we rose early, thanks to Berty's vigorous impersonation of an alarm clock, and once more set out on our quest. The owners of several small shipping companies nearly got heart attacks that morning when a very determined Mr Rikkard Ambrose stalked onto their premises, demanding to see their passenger lists. Except for that one summer when everyone at my old house had caught diarrhoea, I had never seen anyone run to fetch more paper that fast.
Yet in the end, it was all in vain.
Bam!
The instant he stepped out onto the street, Mr Ambrose's rock-hard fist hit the brick wall of the office building. Having stayed outside for this last visit, I didn't exactly know what had been said inside the shipping company—but I could guess.
"Nothing?" I quietly asked.
"Nothing! Not. A. Single. Thing."
So, once again, a failure. And more importantly: this had been the last shipping company in the entire city. Did that mean that all we could do now was...give up?
"I still don't understand." With a deep frown, I stared at the ship painted onto the door of the company building. "This was the last company, right? If not by ship, then how could Adaira get to wherever she wants to go? Walk there?"
"I have no idea. Which is the problem."
So...the only thing left to do was really to give up.
Not really, an annoying little voice at the back of my mind reminded me. There's still one thing you could do.
True. But I doubt Mr Ambrose would appreciate that method.
And when has that stopped you before?
Oh, to hell with it! My inner voice had a point.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. "What if I had a way to find her?"
My husband's head snapped around to face me. "What?!"
"I can't guarantee that it'll work, of course. But—"
"Tell me!"
That voice. That hard, icy voice that made me want to jump up to fetch files. It brooked no argument.
"Well..." I hesitated. "There isn't just one avenue of investigation that is open to us. Either we try to find Adaira, or...or we try to find the one she's heading towards."
He stiffened. "You don't mean—"
"I do. She is looking for a certain someone, isn't she?" Gathering all my courage, I decided to go against the unspoken taboo. "We could ask for the current location of Captain James Ca—"
"Do not mention that man's name in front of me!"
Sending him a wifely look, I cocked an eyebrow. "My sincerest apologies, Sir. We could ask for the location of the man who is probably going to deflower your little sister soon."
To judge by the look in his eyes, that phrasing did not go over any better than the previous one. What a surprise.
Nevertheless, if Mr Rikkard Ambrose was anything, he was practical. His jaw worked for only about ten seconds, before he squared his shoulders, apparently having come to a decision.
"Let's go," he stated, sounding like the grim reaper about to leave the underworld on business. "The local army branch should not be far."
Suddenly I really, really pitied the British Army. If they thought Napoleon was bad, they were in for a surprise.
Mr Ambrose didn't even bother to enter the carriage. Right now, we were in the harbour district, and thanks to the fact that Britain was an island, the British Army had a large branch in the area. It was from here that soldiers were shipped off to the various colonies, so they had probably placed it near the harbour out of convenience.
Something they were about to regret.
Farther ahead, a building came into view. It seemed to be a low, rather humble edifice. Yet the imposing red flag above the entrance, emblazoned with a golden crown on top of a lion on top of a crown, clearly told everyone what kind of building this truly was.
Eyes flashing with icy, murderous intent, Mr Ambrose sped up—at least until I grabbed his arm.
"Let's not start a civil war in Great Britain just yet, shall we? I'm sure that you could get out of it if need be, or possibly even win, but it would waste a lot of time."
At that, he froze.
"Then what do you suggest, Mrs Ambrose?"
"This requires a...gentler touch." I batted my eyelashes up at him. "Why not let someone more suitable handle this?"
"You mean Karim?"
"You...! Just wait till we have a dog house again!" Stabbing a finger at him, I raised my chin. "You stay here and watch. I'll show you what my feminine charm can accomplish!"
And, whirling around, I marched towards the army building. Karim followed hard on my heels, although whether to guard me or to impress people with his feminine charm I did not know. Soon enough, I arrived in front of the entrance. There was a fellow standing guard there, wearing the same red uniform and furry monster hat as the Queen's guards in front of Buckingham Palace. Putting on my best shy lady smile, I curtsied in front of the soldier.
"Good morning, Sir. Pardon me for disturbing your guard duty, but I am faced with a little problem and was wondering if you might be kind enough to help. You see, I have a friend in the army to whom I would like to write. Unfortunately, I forgot where he is currently stationed." With a sad expression on my face, I batted my eyelashes at the man. "Would it be possible for you to tell me where I might find Captain James Carter?"
"My apologies, Madam," the soldier stated, staring blankly into the distance as if my pretty eyelashes didn't exist. "The personal details of British Army personnel may not be divulged to unauthorised persons."
"Oh, but surely you could make an exception for me, right?" Eyelash-batting, eyelash-batting, constant eyelash-batting.
"I am afraid not, Madam."
Darn.
Time to pull out the big guns. I let the corners of my mouth quiver in totally-not-faked despair and squeezed some moisture out of the corner of my eyes.
"So...you r-really cannot tell me?"
The man's face remained motionless. "No, Ma'am."
Dammit! Was this guy Mr Ambrose's long-lost relative or something?
Well, no matter. I was a resourceful woman, and I still had one more weapon in my arsenal.
Like the one behind me, for example.
"I see." With a smile and a nod, I stepped aside, fully revealing the mountainous form of the massive, muscled man who had followed me here. "Can you tell him?"
"Good morning," Karim growled as he stepped forward, casting the hapless soldier in shadow. "Would it be possible for you to tell me where I might find Captain James Carter?"
Five minutes later, the two of us returned to the coach, where Mr Rikkard Ambrose was waiting for us.
"I told you, didn't I?" With a smirk on my face, I patted my chest. "Female charm. Works every single time."
Mr Ambrose looked past me, to where the unfortunate soldier was lying on the ground, his limbs tied into a pretzel and the fur hat pulled down over his face.
"Female charm. Indeed."
"Works every time," I said without a hint of shame.
"So, did your 'female charm' help you discover where we can find Captain James Carter?"
I nodded firmly. "It did."
At that, Mr Ambrose stiffened. "And the result?"
Proudly, I held up a scuffed folder. "I got this. It won't tell us where exactly he is, since apparently, specific postings are decided by the commanding officer in the part of the world where soldiers are sent. But it'll tell us where he was shipped to, at least."
Mr Rikkard Ambrose did not waste any time. "Where?"
"Let's see..." With nimble fingers, I started flipping through the document until I reached the appropriate page. "Ah, there we have it! Ship destination—"
Abruptly, I cut off. My eyes went wide as I stared at the words on the paper, not wanting to believe them.
"Where?" Mr Ambrose repeated, his voice much more intense.
I raised my head to meet his eyes. "Bombay, India."
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My dear Readers,
This was it, the first chapter of the final volume of my "Storm and Silence" series. I hope you all enjoyed it. For those of you waiting for Adaira's point of view, it will be coming soon! :)
Regarding the "Bombay" mentioned at the end of the chapter - Bombay, during Victorian times, was one of the largest trading centres on the west coast of India. It was renamed to Mumbai in 1995 because the local authorities disliked the old name due to it being a remnant of the British colonial era.
Yours Truly
Sir Rob