Page 169 of Storm over the Caribbean
I let my eyes travel over the man, scrutinizing him closely. During the years of working for Mr Rikkard Ambrose, I had become rather adequate at judging people. Mostly in order to swiftly sort them into either the “wants to kill me” or the “Yippee! Harmless!” category. This man most certainly did not fit into the latter.
But…
My gaze flitted over his rough, calloused fingers, the scar under his right eye, and the hard look within it.
He doesn’t really look like a mastermind, either.
No, this was not a man who plotted and planned. This was an enforcer. A killer.
“The pleasure is ours,” I told him with a slight bow and a smile. And it definitely was. He was a step towards the mastermind behind the attempt on my family’s lives. Every such step would be a pleasure. Particularly once I would get to step on him. Hard. “May I introduce my colleague? He recently took over from Captain Briggs and goes by Rockface.”
“How…fitting,” Lachance commented, closely studying Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s chiselled face.
Mr Ambrose’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Without a word, he gave the other man a curt nod.
“He’s not the most talkative of people,” I added.
“You don’t say.” One corner of Lachance’s mouth twitched. “Well, let’s get down to business,Messieurs. Please, take a seat.”
Sweeping his frock coat out behind him, the Frenchman settled down in the armchair opposite us and crossed his legs. The leisurely posture didn’t fool me for a second, though. The pistol-shaped bulge at his hip made sure of that.
“So…” Mr Ambrose, in a horrifically uncharacteristic move, broke the silence. “Your man mentioned you were having problems?”
“Ah,oui.” Our host gave a nod, steepling his fingers. “It seems that my competitor whose ships I hired you to deal with has caught on to what is happening. Some of my own business interests on the sea have come under attack recently, and I believe this is retaliation.”
“Most likely.” Mr Ambrose cocked his head. “But what does that have to do with me?”
I inwardly smiled, knowing perfectly well what thoughts were driving him.Play up your character. Be a pirate captain. Be greedy. Do not raise suspicion as to your true goals.
Somehow I doubted he would have trouble staying in character.
Lachance’s face tightened. “What does it have to do with you? I hired you, remember? Last time I checked, that means you do what I tell you to do.”
“You hired me to attackmerchantships. Not a rival pirate fleet. That is a whole other kettle of rotten, stinking fish. One that I do not plan to get involved in.”
Pretend to be reluctant. Pretend to not want to talk about this situation, let alone get involved in it yourself.
Lachance parted his hands, his right moving slowly but surely closer to the pistol-shaped bulge under his clothes. “Oh, you don’t?”
“Well…” Mr Ambrose sent the other man a look. “Not without getting something in return.”
It didn’t take long for the Frenchman to understand. Slowly, Lachance’s hand pulled back from underneath his coat, and he gave a reluctant note. “I see. Very well,Monsieur Capitaine. You will be adequately compensated.”
I had to hand it to Mr Ambrose… Getting his enemies to pay him for taking them down? He was good. Really good.
“I see. Well, then…” Lifting one hand, my dear husband rubbed his fingers together in the capitalist world’s most universal gesture. “How much?”
“Hm…” Lachance stroked his chin. “Presumably, you would like payment in pounds sterling,n'est-ce pas? I’d say…five hundred pounds?”
Mr Ambrose’s eyes frosted over. “Five thousand.”
“Ridiculous! Six hundred, and not a penny more,Monsieur Capitaine!”
“Four thousand nine hundred and fifty.”
“Seven hundred.”
And so the haggling started. Normally, this would be the highlight of the day for Mr Rikkard Ambrose. But I knew my dear husband well enough to recognize the signs of impatience.The tension in his posture. The twitch of his little finger. Oh yes, he was impatient. And, amazingly enough, not for the haggling to continue. No, he was waiting for what would come after.
