I Defend my Honour, More’s the Pity

He cocked his head.

‘No?'

‘No! Definitely no! Despite what you have been trying to tell yourself, I am still a girl and I am most definitely not going to let you rummage around in my knickers!'

‘You would rather end up face-down in the Thames?'

‘I would rather that you trusted me!'

‘Trust…' The word came slowly over his sculpted lips as if he hadn't used them in a very long time. ‘Mister Linton… in Russia they have a saying about that. Do you know it, Mr Linton?'

He took a step closer.

‘How the heck should I? I'm not Russian!'

‘The saying is: "trust, but verify".' He took a step closer again. ‘I do not subscribe to that saying. I never trust. But I always verify.'

‘You are not getting me out of my dress so you can rummage around in my underwear!' I declared, maybe a bit too forcefully. That was largely due to the fact that a part of my mind was occupied with how it would feel to have him rummage around in my underwear. And another part of my mind was busy being furious at the aforementioned part of my mind for having such thoughts.

‘You are not wearing a dress, but trousers,' he pointed out in his usual cold, curt manner.

‘Whatever! Are you a gentleman, Sir, or a cur?'

‘That depends on the necessities of the situation.'

‘And in this situation?'

‘Give me back the file, Mr Linton, and I will not have to search you.'

‘For the hundredth time, I do not have it!'

‘For the fourth time, actually,' he corrected. ‘Do not exaggerate.'

Heavy footsteps approached. They needed a few seconds to break through my concentration, and it was the same with Mr Ambrose. We were glaring at each other with such intensity that at first we didn't notice the giant bearded figure who had appeared in the doorway.

Finally, Mr Ambrose wrenched his gaze away from me.

‘Yes?' he asked.

Karim shook his weighty turban and beard, as well as the head that was squeezed in between. ‘Nothing, Sahib.'

At which Mr Ambrose's gaze returned to me with double intensity.

‘You know what that means, Mister Linton?'

‘What?' I snapped. ‘And don"t call me Mister!'

‘It means that I have no choice but to search you.'

‘No!' I crossed my arms. He wasn't going to touch me! Not ever!

Well, not that I really would have minded so much. But if I would ever let him take a closer look at my underwear, it would not be to search it for some stupid paper, thank you very much! I mean, every girl has to have some self-respect.

Self-respect?my inner feminist screamed at me. Under what circumstances do you think him taking a look at your underwear would be all right with your self-respect? Have you forgotten that you despise men in whatever form they come?

‘Karim?' Mr Ambrose said, darkly. ‘I'm going to take care of this. Close the safe door and lock us in. Open it only when I call again.'

My eyes widened. I rushed towards the door, but before I could reach it the huge Mohammedan had slammed it shut and plunged us into utter darkness.

*~*~**~*~*

‘Ouch!'

‘Ng!'

‘Let go!'

‘Stop wriggling you…'

Slap!

The noise echoed quite loudly in the dark, hollow room. There were a few seconds of silence, then I heard Mr Ambrose's calm voice - calm in the way a volcano was calm before the explosion.

‘Karim? Karim, open the door again.'

Slowly, the door slid open, admitting a brilliant ray of sunlight that cut through the darkness like a red hot knife through butter. It fell on Mr Ambrose's face, which also was pretty much red hot, at least in the places where my hand had made contact with his cheek.

‘You,' he said decidedly, his jaw taut, ‘are either as guilty as the devil himself or have more morals than apparent at first sight.'

I narrowed my eyes. ‘What is that supposed to mean, "more than apparent at first sight"?'

‘It is supposed to mean more morals than one would expect from a girl who runs around dressed in men's clothes!'

‘Hey, this was your idea, remember?'

‘An idea I thought no sane individual would take seriously.'

‘Well, I have, and now I'm here. So what are you going to do with me?'

His threatening sea-coloured eyes fixed on my face again.

‘I must search you, Mr Linton. It is useless to resist.'

The fellow had just intended to undress me and he was still calling me ‘Mister'? This was unbelievable!

‘Why should I steal your stupid file?' I shouted. ‘I don"t even know what's in it!'

‘You could have been put up to it.'

‘By whom?'

‘By one of the men who want me ruined and dead.'

He said that so coldly, so calmly, that it cut right through my anger. I looked closer and saw that behind his granite fa?ade, emotions were boiling inside him. He was just too stubborn to admit it.

‘What's so important about that file?' I asked, softly. Well, relatively softly, anyway.

‘If you took it, you already know,' was his response. ‘And if you didn't, I will not tell you.'

‘Why not?'

‘I do not have to explain myself to you!'

‘So what now?' I asked again.

‘I could tie you down to search you,' he threatened.

‘You could try.' My hands came up defensively again. Unconsciously, Mr Ambrose's hand went to his cheek, and I had to grin. Was I crazy? It was still a very real possibility that I would end up face-down in the Thames today, and here I was, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

But I just couldn't help being excited! This was the first half-way thrilling thing to have happened in my massively mundane life.

Mr Ambrose noticed my grin. Just before he turned to his turban-wearing henchman, I thought I could see a faint scowl on his face. What? I had elicited a facial expression from Mr Granite Face? Surely not!

‘Karim? Would you be so good as to search her?' Mr Ambrose inquired.

The Mohammedan's eyes flickered to me for a moment. He stood straighter and gripped the hilt of his sabre.

‘I would fight an Ifrit[23] for you, Sahib… but this creature?' He gave me a look that reminded me of the way my aunt always looked at me. ‘I must respectfully decline.'

‘I thought so,' nodded Mr Ambrose.

‘What in God's name is an Ifrit?' I demanded.

‘A powerful half-demon from Arabian mythology,' Mr Ambrose informed me. ‘They are over twelve feet tall, armed with huge swords and have fists and wings that burn with hellfire.'

Dear me. I had no idea Karim thought so highly of me.

Mr Ambrose started pacing up and down with long, measured strides. I watched him carefully, my heartbeat still not returned to its normal rhythm. With his impassive face, fathomless eyes and long black tailcoats fluttering behind him like bat wings, he really looked more than a little intimidating. For a moment, I considered running. Maybe I could make it to the hallway and scream for help. Mr Stone would hear me. Maybe he would run for the police.

Karim met my eyes. His small, beady specimens weren't quite as impressive as those of his master, but his were full of suspicion and animosity.

‘I sent Stone away,' he stated. ‘The door to the hallway is locked.'

Mr Ambrose didn't cease his pacing. I knew it wasn't him the comment had been meant for, anyway. I gave Karim a curt nod, which he returned. If I had the slightest doubt before that Mr Ambrose could and would kill to protect his interests, it was now gone. With such servants at his command, the deed would be easy to accomplish.

I wondered why I didn't feel more afraid.

Suddenly, Mr Ambrose stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face me.

‘You,' he said curtly, ‘have placed me in a difficult position, Mr Linton.'

‘Because you have to kill me now?' I inquired.

‘No.' Maybe I was mistaken, but I could have sworn his jaw tightened a little bit. ‘Because I cannot kill you, Mr Linton. Any man under the same suspicion you are under now I would simply challenge to a duel and shoot like the dog he is. However,' he paused for a moment to take a breath, ‘that will not be possible in your case, since you are… not quite as male as I could wish.'

There! That was why I was not afraid.

‘You mean because I'm a girl,' I pointed out. ‘Which means I am female, not male. You can say the word, you know. It's not poisonous.'

‘Oh, but it is,' he responded, coolly. ‘Poisonous to my reputation, and now to my interests. I must have that file, Mr Linton. However, you were right: I am a gentleman. And because of that unfortunate condition you conceal under your trousers, I, as a gentleman, can neither search you nor kill you to gain what I must have.'

Unfortunate condition?God, this fellow really needed his head examined!

‘Why are you so bloody convinced that it was me who stole your precious papers, anyway?' I lashed out. ‘Why so determined to think that I am the guilty one? Why not some other member of your staff? The file could have been gone for days.'

‘No, it couldn't,' he replied curtly. ‘Because nobody had access to the files in the safe.'

‘Nobody else had another key? And what about the one you gave me?'

‘Why these pointless questions?' he asked, shaking his head. ‘We both know that you are guilty! There is no duplicate key, and the one I gave you was in my own possession the entire time since last Wednesday when-'

Abruptly, his head-shaking ceased. His whole body froze.

‘Yes?' I demanded. ‘When what?'

Slowly he came out of his paralysis and turned his head to face me directly. His dark eyes flashed as though a storm was raging in them. For one moment he looked so dangerous I actually took a step back.

But then I realized that for once, his anger was not directed at me. A word passed his lips like the hiss of a snake preparing to strike:

‘Simmons!'

Karim let out a low oath in a language I didn't understand. But the way he said it, I didn't have to know the words to know that it was a curse. He had obviously understood. I, on the contrary, was still completely in the dark.

‘Simmons?' I echoed, making it a question.

He met my eyes with his deep, dark, blue-grey ones.

‘Yes. Simmons, Mr Linton. Simmons, my previous private secretary. Simmons, who disappeared a few days ago without any explanation. Simmons, the treacherous snake.'

With a few long strides Mr Ambrose was over at my desk and started rifling through my drawers. The wooden ones in the desk, I mean.

‘What are you doing?' I demanded. ‘I thought your big bull already checked those.'

Karim threw me a look that signified about a ton of displeasure. Apparently he didn't appreciate his new nickname. I made a mental note to use it again at the earliest opportunity.

‘Karim did search the drawers,' Mr Ambrose agreed. ‘But he searched them for the missing file, not for a sign of where the traitor who has taken the file might have gone. This was his desk once.'

‘So you think that this Simmons did it now? You no longer think it was me?'

‘No! I was a fool to ever have thought it. After all, you're only…' He waved his hand non-committally.

‘A girl?' I piped up. ‘Is that what you were going to say? We females can steal things just as well as any man, thank you very much!'

‘A moment ago you were afraid of me thinking you're guilty, and now you praise your skills as a thief?'

‘Not my skills, but the skills of womanhood in general! And I was certainly not afraid.'

‘You were not?'

‘Do I look afraid to you?'

‘No,' he admitted. ‘You look superfluous. Leave the room. I and my men have a thief to catch.' He nodded to the door and returned to his work of rifling through the desk, as if I had already left, or as if I had ceased to exist entirely. That, I was sure, was how he would have preferred things.

Crossing my arms, I planted myself in front of him.

‘I'm not going anywhere.'

‘I give you the rest of the day off,' he said, not looking at me. ‘Go and enjoy your holiday. Trust me when I say I do not give holidays often.'

‘With me it seems that is almost the only thing you do! I did not come here to juggle meaningless pieces of paper like a monkey trained for some circus and then be chucked out after half a day. I came here to work! And if you have a thief to catch, I will come with you!'

‘Just for your information,' he said, ‘the pieces of paper that you have "juggled" as you put it have most certainly not been meaningless.'

He still didn't bother to turn around and look at me. All I could do was send my furious glares at his broad, hard back, and that did nothing to calm me down.

‘They all pertain to my business in a very real way,' he continued. ‘And you are nothing whatsoever like a circus monkey. A monkey wouldn't talk back at me.'

‘But it might bite!'

‘I'm not sure I wouldn't prefer that.'

‘Is that so?' I took an involuntary step towards him. ‘Well, I could try if you wished.'

His neck muscles tensed. ‘No need to put yourself to trouble. Go home. That is an order.'

‘No!' I stamped my foot. I didn't care if I made a spectacle of myself. He was going to accept me whether he wanted to or not.

‘You cannot refuse to go home if I send you away.' I wouldn't have believed his voice could grow colder than it already was. But he was reaching new heights of vocal deep-freezing. ‘You work for me.'

‘Exactly.' I nodded. ‘I work for you. And just as I could protest if you were to keep me at work longer than the normal hours, I have the right to protest if you send me away early. You accepted my work in exchange for a salary, Mr Ambrose, and I intend to earn that salary. I will not accept charity from anyone, and most certainly not from you.'

He looked up then and met my gaze again. Had something in my little speech actually managed to capture his attention?

There was something in his eyes as he looked at me… Something different from before. It was intense - but I had no idea what it was.

‘You are wasting my time,' he said. But his voice wasn't quite as hard and immovable as just a second ago. ‘I need to catch Simmons.'

‘Then let me help,' I pleaded.

Instead of answering, he returned to rummaging through the last drawer. Slamming it shut, he turned to Karim, who stood waiting at the entrance to the safe.

‘Nothing here. Get the men here. The entire team. Tell Warren to go over this place with a fine-tooth comb. Anything he finds, and I mean anything, is to be brought to me immediately, understood?'

‘Yes, Sahib.'

‘Why not just tell the police about this?' I dared to interject.

‘Because I do not want this business in tomorrow's newspapers,' was the curt reply. ‘And because if we find the thief, they will get in my way.'

I had to swallow. Taking into account his recent threats towards yours truly, I could only imagine too well what he meant by that.

‘So what now?' I asked.

‘Now you will go home.'

‘No. I will not!'

Karim, who had been striding towards the door to embark on his errand, hesitated there. ‘Do you truly wish me to leave you alone with her, Sahib?'

I rolled my eyes. Oh, please.

Mr Ambrose nodded. ‘Yes, go, Karim. I need Warren here as soon as possible.'

‘As you wish, Sahib.' But Karim still looked doubtful under his beard as he unlocked the door and left the room.

When the door closed behind him, I stepped up to Mr Ambrose until only a few inches separated us. There was no point in beating about the bush further.

‘Why won't you let me do my job? What exactly is your problem?'

His eyes, seeming darker than usual, almost black, bored into me like a steam-engine-driven drill. ‘You know.'

Angrily, I put my fists on my hips. ‘You mean the fact that I'm a girl?'

He didn't say anything, but from his look I knew that was it. What was the matter? This was going beyond chauvinism. Wasn"t he even able to say the word ‘girl' aloud? Did he have such a strong distaste for it? For me?

‘Do you behave like this to all females?' I demanded.

A faint noise escaped him. It might have been a snort.

‘Hardly. All females don"t put on trousers and trick me into giving them jobs!'

‘I did not trick you!'

‘Maybe. Get to the point.'

‘I already have. Why won't you let me help you, let me work for you properly?'

He shook his head in exasperation. ‘You don"t understand. Where I am going, what I will be doing… It will be dangerous. Very dangerous. I cannot let you accompany me.'

‘Why not?' I asked, heatedly. ‘Simply because I am a girl?'

He stared at me for a second, seemingly lost for words. For this one moment I saw something flicker in his eyes, something different from the iron determination that was usually there. He looked almost… frightened? Longing?

Then the shutters came done again, and he nodded. ‘Yes, that's exactly the reason. I am a gentleman. As such I cannot allow any lad- person of female gender to be in danger.'

It did not pass my notice how he had avoided using the term "lady".

‘Oh really?' Sarcasm was dripping from my voice. ‘If I may remind you, you were threatening to do away with me yourself not ten minutes ago.'

‘That,' he answered in a chilling voice, ‘was when I thought you had betrayed me. I do not take kindly to traitors, Mr Linton.'

The sarcasm drained from my voice and face.

‘I am not a traitor,' I said, my voice full of hurt.

For one instant, I thought his granite face softened a bit. ‘I know. You have done an acceptable job so far - for an Ifrit.'

My eyes flew wide open. Had my ears betrayed me, or had Mr Ambrose, Mr Silent and Sullen Granite Face Ambrose, just made a joke?

‘But your capabilities as an office worker don't have anything to do with this. You simply can't get involved in this matter! You see that, don"t you?' he continued so quickly that I immediately forgot about the maybe-joke and my hackles rose.

‘No! I most certainly do not see. You have taken me on to work for you!' I folded my arms in front of my chest. ‘I demand work! I demand to work bloody hard for every penny you will pay me, just like Karim and this Warren fellow and every other man you employ, do you understand? I want to earn my own money, and I will, whether you want me to or not.'

Once again, he studied me with his dark, sea-coloured eyes. There was something growing there - slowly, very slowly. Acceptance? More likely it was resignation.

He took a step towards me. Whereas before our faces had been inches apart, now it was only a fraction of an inch.

‘I will not be able to change your mind, will I?' he asked. His voice was arctic. But for some reason I didn't feel cold. Instead I felt heat rush over my body. Where his face and mine almost touched, my skin began to tingle. The tension between us was burning.

‘No.' I grinned. ‘And you don"t have the time anyway. You have to catch a thief.'

‘Good point.' Again, he studied me. ‘You really wish to help?'

‘Yes!'

‘Very well then. Follow me.'

He whirled, and before I knew what was happening he was striding away. I followed instinctively, only now realizing how my breath had sped up during our little standoff.

Strange. Why had I reacted like this? It must have been the exhilaration of finally triumphing over him. Yes, that had to be it.

He led me back towards the entrance of the safe. There, he stopped and turned to me. I had to work hard to keep a triumphant smile off my face. This was it. He was finally going to accept me and give me responsibility.

‘I have a very important assignment for you,' he said, looking me directly in the eyes. ‘One of vital significance, which I expect to be finished by the time I return.'

‘What is it?' I asked, breathless.

He pushed open the door to the safe, which had fallen closed behind us. Then he pointed to the chaos of files on the floor. ‘Clean up that mess.'