Page 226 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Yes,Sahib!”
The walk inside and down to the dungeon seemed to take significantly longer than last time, although my impatience might have had a little bit to do with that. When we finally reached our destination, I saw two of Mr Ambrose’s faceless drones in dark tailcoats and bowler hats standing guard on either side of the cell’s entrance. The moment they spotted us, they wordlessly stepped aside. Karim opened the door and stuck his head inside.
“I’m back.”
“Aaaahhh! Please, no! I’ll talk, I’ll talk! I swear, I’ll tell you anything you want! Pleasepleasepleasedon’tcomenearme!”
“Hm, yes.” I gave a nod. “I think you were right, Karim. In my expert opinion, he seems ready to talk.”
Together, the three of us stepped into the room. There we found the Frenchman hanging from a hook in the ceiling, his eyes covered by a blindfold.
“Please! Oh, please, Sir! I’ll do whatever you want! No more! Please, no more!”
“Oh my…” I couldn’t resist. My inner Amy wouldn’t let me. I winked at Karim. “Kinky. Very kinky.”
The bodyguard sent me a look that could peel paint at fifty paces. “Sahib? Permission to fetch another hook?”
“Denied. Now get on with it.”
Grumpily, Karim strode over to the dangling prisoner and tore the blindfold from his face. The man blinked in the sudden light, saw Karim’s face—and screamed. After a moment or two, the screams subsided into whimpers, and the man’s attention focused on trying to back away while his feet still weren’t touching the ground. He wasn’t having much success.
“PleaseDon’tPleaseDon’tPleaseDon’t—!”
Karim snapped his fingers.
Instantly, the man shut up.
Wow.I smiled.He’s good.
Then Mr Ambrose stepped forward, and the Frenchman nearly fainted in fear, all colour draining from his face.
Though not nearly as good as someone else I might mention.
My dear husband cocked his head.
“Well?”
He didn’t demand. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.
“P-please!” Monsieur FDM begged, sweat pouring down his neck. “Please! I’ll tell you anything! Anything! Just don’t…” He glanced over at Karim.
Mr Ambrose gave a curt nod, then looked at the man as if to sayI’m waiting.
“Y-you were right. Right about everything.” The Frenchman swallowed. “It was all a ruse, Monsieur. All a ruse to make you think Lord Dalgliesh was attacking your business. I…I’m not in the service of Lord Dalgliesh,Monsieur. In fact, I am not in anyone’s permanent service. I am an…agent for hire, you might say. I was just returning from a trip to Bavaria when I was visited by a hooded man. He offered me an outrageous sum of money just to come with him and listen to a job offer.” The man snorted derisively. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “You should have.”
Mr Ambrose gestured for him to continue. “Go on.”
“I was brought to a luxurious, yet completely abandoned house at the edge of town. There, another man awaited me. He didn’t wear a hood to conceal his face. Instead, he never showed himself at all, talking from behind a screen. He offered me a task. A simple task, it seemed. I was merely supposed to act as a go-between, to find some mercenary willing to play the rich businessman and organise a crew of pirates to attack some ships. It seemed simple enough. The pay was good. I agreed. But…”
Raising his head, he stared at us, his gaze suddenly sharper, revealing a hint of the man he had been before Karim had gotten his hands on him. A spy, infiltrator, and all-around scumbag—but one who had survived for a long time.
“It seemed just a littletoosimple. If the things I had to do were so easy and risk-free, why all the secrecy? Why offer me so much money? Despite what you might think, I’m nobody’s fool,Monsieur. Plus, I am not in the habit of doing work without knowing who I am working for.”
“You investigated.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a cold, hard statement.
