Hunting for Silence (Storm and Silence 5)

‘Well, originally I only came here for business reasons, Minister, Your Majesty. But then I happened to meet Miss Linton, and well…’

His hand landed on mine, taking hold of it. A distinctly possessive hold. It took a moment or two for me to realize that he had just as good as announced his intentions. Announced his intentions to the king of bloody France! My eyes flew to his, and he gazed back, completely implacable.

‘Oh, that’s how it is, oui?’ The king chuckled. ‘Yes, Paris can have that effect on people.’

‘So that is why you still are in Paris?’ The minister’s eyes were narrowed. ‘For the romantic atmosphere?’

‘Indeed.’ Mr Ambrose nodded, looking about as romantic as a constipated rock. ‘That and…’

The door opened.

‘My apologies, Your Majesty,’ came a voice from behind us that I knew all too well. A voice that made my spine stiffen and my skin crawl. ‘I was somewhat delayed, because I was engaged in planning a little surprise for you later in the evening.’

‘What a coincidence!’ Half-turning, the king beamed across his whole face. ‘We have a surprise for you as well, Your Lordship.’

‘You have?’ Lord Dalgliesh asked, striding around to towards the seat right next to the king.

‘Yes,’ Mr Ambrose told him as he rose from that very seat, cold eyes sparkling. ‘He has. Good evening, Your Lordship.’

Thinking Inside the Box

Lord Dalgliesh froze.

‘You two know each other?’ The king seemed delighted. ‘What a happy coincidence!’

‘Yes.’ The foreign minister’s eyes were darting between Mr Ambrose and His Lordship. ‘What a coincidence, vraiment.’

Slowly, Dalgliesh came out of his paralysis. Somehow he managed to force a smile onto his face. ‘Mr Ambrose. I was not aware you were in Paris.’

Mr Ambrose cocked his head. ‘Sometimes fate just puts one in the right spot at the right time.’

He extended his hand. Looking as if he was being forced to swallow an adder whole, Lord Dalgliesh reached out and shook it. It was obvious that, whatever he had planned for tonight, meeting Mr Rikkard Ambrose was not high on the list. I couldn’t help it. I grinned from ear to ear. Apparently broadly enough for Dalgliesh to notice me.

‘Miss Linton. What an…unexpected pleasure.’ His eyes glittered. ‘You left so suddenly last time we met.’

My smile didn’t even flicker. ‘I found the surroundings somewhat constricting.’ Particularly the locked door and armed guard in front of my cell. ‘But I hope that sometime soon, I’ll be able to repay your hospitality in kind.’

One of Dalgliesh’s eyebrows rose. ‘Is that so, Miss Linton?’

‘Yes,’ Mr Ambrose said from right beside me, his voice as cold as the frost on an polar bear’s bottom. ‘Now sit down, will you? The show is about to begin. And what a show it’ll be…’

‘So you’ve seen this opera before, Mr Ambrose?’ the king asked, intrigued.

‘No, Your Majesty. But I have a feeling it will be a life-changing experience.’

As Lord Dalglesh slowly sank into his seat behind Mr Ambrose, I caught another glimpse at the foreign minister. He was scrutinizing everyone intently, his sharp eyes focusing particularly on Mr Ambrose and His Lordship. When his gaze strayed to me, I winked at him.

He blinked.

By the looks of him, I had been the first one to ever do that. Poor man. I waved at him, just for the fun of it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a motion. Lord Dalgliesh was leaning forward, towards Mr Ambrose.

‘What,’ he hissed, too low for anyone else to hear, ‘are you planning?’

‘Shh.’ Mr Ambrose raised one long finger to his lips. ‘Can’t you hear? The performance is about to begin.’

‘Tell me now! Or I’ll…I’ll…’