Silence Breaking (Storm and Silence 4)

‘Just out of curiosity… What was your plan again?’

‘I am going to tell these people to end the strike.’

‘Oh, I see. And…then?’

‘Then they’ll end the strike. That is the plan.’

‘Ah. I see. And, just in case, let’s say, it didn’t work - I mean I’m sure it will. It’s a great plan, just ordering people to do what you want. Really great - but imagine for a moment that, hypothetically, it won’t work. What’s plan B?’

‘There isn’t one.’

‘Oh. I see.’

Why me? Why oh why do I have to be in love with a maniac?

‘Brilliant, Sir. Absolutely brilliant.’

‘Silence!’ one of the men who led the way shouted.

He was lucky that this was about the only command in the world that Mr Rikkard Ambrose had no problems complying with.

Apart from the crackle of flames and the occasional whisper out of the darkness around us, we rode through the gloomy street without hearing a thing. The stench of smoke became more intense with every step our

horses took. So did the red glow in the distance. The houses around us were replaced first by warehouses, then by ramshackle wooden huts. Finally, they disappeared altogether. Red flames enveloped us. But not because we were standing in front of a burning mine. Oh no. That was a long way off yet. I could see the black-red column of flame and smoke rising ahead of us, reaching for the sky. No, we were surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of dirty, dark-faced, angry miners standing in the cold winter night, grouped around dozens of coal fires. As we rode past them, the heat was almost intense enough to scorch my skin.

‘Murderer!’

The shout came from the left. My head whirled around just in time to see the dark object whizz past, and-

Thud!

Karim’s hand shot out, catching the thing in mid-air, before it could hit Mr Ambrose in the head. My dear employer hadn’t even flinched. Glancing at Karim, he gave a small nod.

The mountainous bodyguard clenched his fist. There was a grinding sound, and black coal dust drifted from between his fingers. A moment later, the impromptu projectile had disintegrated into nothingness.

‘Anyone tries that again,’ Mr Ambrose said, in a very calm, very controlled voice, ‘and the accusation will become true.’

Fire glinted off his gun.

The crowd was silent.

‘Very well, then. Now that I have your attention…’ His gaze swept over the assembled miners, fastening on a tall, emaciated man with a scar on his left cheek. ‘You! Yes, you there. You’re the leader.’

The man exchanged unsettled glances with his compatriots. ‘How did ye-’

Mr Ambrose didn’t let him finish.

‘Tell your men to get out of my way.’

The man’s jaw tightened. ‘Ye ain’t in no place to give orders! People died! We want justice!’

‘Strange.’ Mr Ambrose cocked his head. ‘The widow of the manager said the very same thing to me not half an hour ago.’

Uncomfortable glances were exchanged.

‘I’ve not got nothing to do with that!’ the man growled.

‘I’m sure you don’t. But someone here has.’