Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

‘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.’

Little Ifrit

All right, so I did it. So what? He was my employer, after all, and he could order me to do anything he wanted. The fact that I was fuming and fantasizing about choking him didn’t really count as an excuse to shirk my duties.

By the light of the small gas lamp Mr Ambrose had given me, I started to sort files.

Soon I found that, while the work itself was deathly boring, being positioned in t

he safe room had unexpected advantages. Once I had pushed open the door, which Mr Ambrose had shut, I could hear everything that was going on in my office - which was quite a lot, let me tell you.

There was a knock on the door.

‘Enter,’ Mr Ambrose’s curt voice called.

‘Mr Ambrose? Good morning, Sir,’ a quiet, respectful voice said in answer. Several pairs of feet shuffled into my office. Apparently it had been selected as official HQ for the thief hunt. ‘I came as soon as you called. What is the matter? Karim didn’t say.’

‘Warren.’ No ‘good morning’ from Mr Stoneface Ambrose of course, and certainly no ‘How nice to see you.’ He got right to the point. ‘Have you seen Simmons?’

‘Simmons, Sir? I thought you gave me to understand that he suddenly gave up his post.’

‘He did. And he took something of mine along with him, it appears.’

There was a short, heavy silence. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine the merciless ice in Mr Ambrose’s eyes right then. Just from the feel of the air I got the impression that the people in my office experienced a twinge of pity for Simmons.

‘I see. What can we do, Sir?’

‘First answer my question, Warren. Have you seen him since he left?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Has he come back to pick up his belongings?’

‘I can send someone and check, Sir.’

‘Do that. Now.’

Footsteps hurried off. There were a few more minutes of silence, which nobody made even the slightest attempt to fill. Apparently Mr Ambrose didn’t think much of small talk. What a surprise.

The moment the footsteps returned he asked: ‘And?’