In the Eye of the Storm

10. The Black Ship

He was standing near the water at St Katherine's Docks, looking out over the River Thames. The wind that was blowing grey, stormy clouds across the sky also gripped his black tailcoat and made it flutter around him like bat's wings. With his arms folded, glaring at the wide water as if he meant to conquer the river and all the oceans beyond, he looked like a darker version of Admiral Nelson, just before his triumph at Trafalgar.

It almost seemed a shame to ruin such a pretty pose. Almost.

I tapped him on the shoulder.

'Good afternoon, Sir.'

Mr Ambrose whirled around so fast he nearly knocked me over. His dark eyes were wide and, for once, I had the sublime satisfaction of seeing his mouth open with surprise. He had pretty nice teeth, incidentally. He should open his mouth more often.

'You... you...'

'Me.' I nodded and gave my best imitation of a salute. 'Mr Linton reporting for duty, Sir! Packed and ready to depart!'

'You can't be here!'

'Actually, I can. As far as I know, my presence at this particular spot does not violate any laws of physics or any moral standards. Besides, you told me to be here, didn't you?'

Slowly, his mouth slid shut until his teeth were hidden again, and his lips pressed into the usual thin line. To judge from the noises he was making, those nice teeth were being gritted. Poor darlings.

'Yes,' he informed me, keeping a tight leash on his voice. 'That does not mean, however, that I actually expected you to make an appearance.'

One of my eyebrows rose. 'What? You expected me to disobey you? Whyever would you think I would do something like that?'

More grinding noises. Dear, dear, those poor teeth...

'I thought, Mr Linton, that you mentioned there would be some slight difficulties regarding your accompanying me on this trip. Difficulties in respect to your family, if I remember correctly.'

'Oh, you mean my aunt?' I waved a dismissive hand. 'That was easy to take care of, once I gave it a little thought. I just told her that I would be visiting my grandmother in Northumberland to go man-hunting among the Northerners. The prospect of having me more than a hundred miles away combined with the possibility of my coming back with a husband or not coming back at all, soon won her over to the idea.'

His dark eyes sparkled, raking over me, then sweeping from left to right – looking for a solution, no doubt. A way out of this.

'And what will your grandmother in Northumberland say when you do not arrive?'

'Nothing. She doesn't know I'm supposed to visit her.'

'Indeed? That should cause something of a sensation when your aunt and grandmother next communicate with each other.'

I smiled. 'Not really. They don't communicate. They can't stand each other.'

'I see.' His eyes stopped roaming and focused on me again. 'I can empathize with the feeling. It seems you have everything quite neatly planned.'

'I have, haven't I?' Part of me had to resist the temptation to purr and stretch like a cat. This was as close to a compliment as Rikkard Ambrose had ever gotten.

'Sahib?' came a voice from behind a stack of crates and suitcases on the dock. 'Sahib, I think we–'

A massive figure stepped around the pile of luggage and froze in mid-step, staring at me. I stared back. The last time I had seen Karim, he, Mr Ambrose and I had parted ways in the lair of the evil Lord Dalgliesh. True, I had known he was alive, since Mr Ambrose had said as much, but seeing him again in the flesh (and in a large amount of muscle and beard) was a relief.