Page 123 of New Storm Rising
“Mrs Ambrose?”
“Yes, dear?”
“We shall not ever discuss this event with anybody else.”
“Yes, dear.”
“And, Mrs Ambrose…?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Stop smirking!”
“Yes, dear.”
It was a mighty struggle. I did, however, not have to fight against my urges for long. Before long, a knock came from the door.
“Enter,” Mr Ambrose commanded. And if, under the table, he was rubbing his shins, I’m sure nobody noticed.
The door swung open, and the inconspicuous figure of a certain salesman slipped into the room, a case clutched under his arm.
“Did you bring a sample of Fizzlewiz Fabulous Bruise Cure, by any chance?” I enquired, grinning.
“I’m afraid not, Ma’am,” Angleton responded, his voice quiet and serious. “What I do have, however, should be far more interesting.”
Placing his briefcase on the desk, he flipped open the lock. I leaned forward curiously just as he lifted the lid, and caught sight of the thickest, most menacing pile of documents I had ever seen in my life. And as private secretary of Rikkard Ambrose, that was bloody saying something!
“Witness reports, signed confessions, bookkeeping records detailing innumerably dirty dealings…it’s all here. And we haven’t even really started questioning people yet. After your chief of security, Mr Karim, helped us bring them to the prison, they seemed to be positively clamouring to confess.”
“Fancy that.” I tapped my chin. “I wonder why?”
“Criminals never have true loyalty to their employers,” Mr Ambrose said with an honest face. “They are not like us good, righteous people who always do what our conscience dictates.”
I nearly spurted ice cream and mustard all over the floor.
“Y-yes. Righteous people,” I coughed. “Absolutely.”
The marshal gave a sombre nod. “In my line of work, I have to deal with so many people who see laws only as things to be twisted to their own ends. It’s relieving to see that there are still people out there who believe in truth, justice, and…Ma’am are you all right?”
“P-perfectly f-fine,” I squeezed out, just managing to suppress my urge to keel over laughing. “I feel spiffing, really!”
“I think she is going into shock,” Mr Ambrose said in a concerned voice while his concerned foot kicked me under the desk. “She volunteered to participate in this charade, but I should have known it would be too much for a lady’s delicate sensibilities.”
That gothima kick fromme.
“Oh, I am sorry. I should have realized.” The marshal bowed. “Would you like to withdraw and rest, Ma’am? I would most certainly understand it.”
“No, don’t worry. I think my…delicate feminine sensibilities should be able to deal with things just fine.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Quite sure.” I placed a hand on the table. The one that had previously held the steak knife. “Now, why don’t you share what you know?”
“Yes.” Mr Ambrose leaned forward, fingers steepled. “I, too, would be interested in seeing the result of your investigations so far.”
“Very well.” Heaving a sigh, the marshal started to spread out the documents. “Here’s what I found out so far…”
And he began detailing the two Spaniards’ offenses and misdeeds. I had to admit, even I, who had spent the last several years in the company of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, was quite impressed with the multitude of greedy, semi-legal and downright criminal ways of squeezing money out of people the two of them had indulged in. Charging rent for farms that people were forced to work on at gunpoint? All so that these farms, which just so happened to be placed around a gold mine, could be used by the Spaniards to lay claim to land that wasn’t theirs and make them a fortune in gold? Gold which, apparently, would be turned into jewellery decorated with blood diamonds, which then would be used to finance the purchase of several casinos that would be utilized to launder money from various illegal activities in South America that…
