Page 149 of New Storm Rising
“We are going to stay calm. Calm and composed. That’s the only way we will survive this.”
It might have been just my imagination, but he didn’t sound calm to me. Not at all.
Just then, a door up on the gallery slammed open, and the figure of a topless Marshal Angus Angleton stumbled out onto the gallery, clutching his half-open trousers, several hickeys spread across his face and neck. “Holy shit! What on earth is going on here?”
I nodded at Mr Ambrose in understanding. “Ah, I see. Calm and composed. Just like that.”
Mr Rikkard Ambrose sent the man on the gallery a glare as cold as a grave in winter. If, up until now, I had thought the snipers outside were the most dangerous things around, I now realized I had been mistaken.
“So, you have decided to join us, have you, Marshal? How very kind of you.”
“Now, now, Dicky darling.” I patted his shoulders. “With him here, that’s two more guns on our side. Who knows, we might just survive this.”
“Survive?” The marshal stared down at them. “What the heck are you talking abou—”
Bam!
Another gunshot. This one sounded a hell of a lot closer, and a moment later, a window at the front of the house splintered into pieces. Then, something heavy started thudding against the front door.
“That,” I informed him, “is what we’re talking about. Now, why don’t you get your revolvers and, ehem…close your front window?Thatkind of gun isn’t the one we need at the moment.”
Face flushing, the marshal disappeared back into his room. Moments later, he reappeared, revolver belt around his hip, and fly mercifully closed.
“Now what?” he demanded.
“Now we have a nasty firefight in front of us,” Mr Ambrose answered curtly. To anyone else, he looked like the picture of icy calm and control. Only I, who had been learning to read his non-expressions for years, could have noticed the muscle in his cheek twitching. Eyes narrowing infinitesimally, he turned towards the brothel madam. “Unless you have another back door?”
“Better.” Striding over towards a cupboard in the corner, Mama Dumant grabbed hold of one corner and gave the thing a shove. It slid sideways smoothly, as if on wheels, revealing a hole in the floor.
I stared.
“What?” The madam raised an eyebrow. “You think this is the first time people are shooting up my place?”
I inspected the ladder leading down into the tunnel, which seemed to be polished by many a boot.
“Apparently not.”
“All right, let’s go.” Mr Ambrose strode forward, casting a glance at me. “Aren’t you glad now that I chose this place to stay the night?”
I stared. “You…you mean you knew about this tunnel? Youplannedfor someone to try and blow us up out of the blue?”
“One, I suspected. And two, it was a distinct possibility.” Swinging his legs over the ledge, he glanced up at me. “After all, you are with me.”
“Oy! What’s that supposed to mean? Anyone who comes by just can’t help wanting to blow me up?”
Just then, another explosion rocked the building.
I sent Mr Ambrose, who had a very diplomatic non-expression on his face, a stare.
“That was pure coincidence!”
“I’m sure.”
Another explosion rattled the walls. One that, judging from the sound of it, blew the front door of the building right off its hinges.
Seems our visitors have gotten impatient.
“We should leave,” Mr Ambrose stated. “Now!”
