Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence 1)

‘Sparkling, definitely sparkling. And as for dessert… well, we shall see. I look forward to tasting your delicacies.’

The waiter bowed so deeply that his head almost smashed into the table.

‘Thank you, Monsieur. Thank you so much!’

Shooting a last, lofty glance at Mr Ambrose, he glided away. I, meanwhile, sank down into the chair opposite my employer and gave him a bright smile.

He did not return it.

‘The price for that extravagant meal shall be deducted from your wages,’ he warned.

‘If you keep this up, Sir, there won’t be anything left of my wages when you’ve deducted all you wish.’

‘That would be very convenient indeed, Mr Linton.’

‘Oh, don't be so grumpy,’ I admonished. ‘You got what you wanted, didn’t you? We have the file back. We should celebrate!’

‘I am celebrating. I ordered a glass of water, didn’t I?’

‘Dear me, you’re right. Your extravagant exuberance is overwhelming, Sir.’

He, oh great surprise, didn’t reply. The waiter arrived with our drinks, and I raised my glass of champagne towards Mr Ambrose.

‘A toast,’ I declared.

He regarded me with those cool, dark eyes of his.

‘Similar to jokes, Mr Linton, toasts are a waste of time and breath. They also present the added hazard of spilling a drink one has paid for.’

‘Well, I like to waste a little breath and time now and again!’

‘I noticed.’

‘A toast,’ I repeated, and to my utter astonishment, Mr Ambrose hesitantly raised his glass towards mine. ‘To a successful operation. May you make so much money out of your canal that you choke on it!’

We clinked glasses. I didn’t spill anything of my costly drink.

‘A pleasing prospect, Mr Linton. However, quite unlikely. I have never had problems digesting monetary gain.’

I hid a smirk behind my champagne glass. ‘I can readily believe that, Sir.’

He watched me drinking, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally. ‘Should you be drinking, Mr Linton? Remember what happened last time.’

My smirk widened into a grin.

‘Yes, that was fun.’

His eyes narrowed another fraction of an inch.

‘There was a gunfight. You were hallucinating. We nearly died.’

‘As I said, fun.’

‘I think we must agree to disagree on that, Mr Linton,’ he said coolly.

We lapsed into silence again. I wet my lips and opened my mouth - then closed it again. There was something I really wanted to ask. I didn’t, though. I was afraid of what the answer might be.

‘Messieurs! Voilà, your meal has arrived!’ The waiter swooped down on us like an eagle on a rabbit, only instead of grabbing us for his next meal, he brought us one. A steaming plate was set down in front of me, with a glistening, brown piece of something on it that looked incredibly soft and succulent. It also looked like nothing I had ever seen before, let alone eaten.