Silence Breaking

16. Taking Ice to Newcastle

'I need to see Mr Ambrose immediately,' the wounded man demanded. 'Please, do you know where I can find him?'

'I might.' Mr Ambrose didn't lower the gun. 'What do you want with him?'

'I haven't got time for this!' His hands clenching into fists, the stranger moved to dismount – until Mr Ambrose's revolver swivelled to point directly at his head.

'Make time.'

The man swallowed.

'M-my name is Godfrey Baker. I am an assistant manager at one of Mr Ambrose's mines at Newcastle. I have to see him! One of his mines–'

'There was an explosion.'

Mr Baker blinked. 'How did you know?'

Eyeing the soot-stained clothes of the other man, Mr Ambrose slowly lowered his gun. 'Let's just say I am perceptive. But if there was an explosion, what do you need Mr Ambrose for? The manager should be able to manage the situation. That is why he is called manager.'

'Um...yes, Sir. Except, the late Mr Gibbons isn't managing much of anything anymore, unless you are talking about lying very, very still in a wooden box. And, um...there's also this slight other problem...'

'The workers.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'They're striking.'

'Yes, indeed. You are very perceptive, Sir.'

Nudging my horse forward, I approached Mr Baker and eyed the cuts and bruises on his face. 'From the looks of it, they've been striking pretty hard.'

He gave me an exhausted smile. 'Indeed, Mr...?'

'Linton. Victor Linton. Private secretary to Mr Rikkard Ambrose.'

'What? Please, tell me, where can I find him? Where...?'

The man's voice trailed off, and his eyes slid back to Mr Ambrose, widening in a silent question. Mr Ambrose gave a curt nod.

Baker groaned. 'Forgive me, Sir. I've never had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, but still, I should have realised. I'm not at my best today. I rode all night and all day to reach this place, and haven't had a decent meal in...well, I don't even want to think about it.'

'Then don't. We don't have time to waste in any case. Your credentials?'

The man pulled a singed piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over to Mr Ambrose, who studied it briefly and returned it.

'Adequate. What happened?'

'Well, as you guessed, Sir, there was an explosion at one of the mines. You know the rumours that have been going around among the workers, about you cutting funding for safety precautions?'

'Yes. Like I told the manager, completely ridiculous. As if I would ever spend money on something like that in the first place.'

For a few moments, Mr Baker unsuccessfully searched for a polite reply. When he had opened and closed his mouth three times without anything coming out, I decided to help the poor fellow out.

'You were talking about rumours...?' I prompted.

'Ah, yes. The rumours. Of course.' He cleared his throat. 'Well, after the explosion, the rumours, well, um...exploded. People believe what happened is your fault, Sir. And quite a few people died in this incident.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes, indeed, Sir. And now the miners are rioting, and–'

Mr Ambrose held up one hand. Baker shut up and closed his mouth.