"The secret to his downfall?" I couldn't have sounded more incredulous at the moment. Was there really some secret, a chip in the armor of the ruler of the entire Indian subcontinent and Mr. Ambrose's sworn enemy? And Mr. Ambrose had it in his hand? "What do you mean?"

"I meant exactly what I said, Mr. Linton." Turning around abruptly, he reached the door in three large strides, and disappeared behind it without another word. My jaw slackened as I hurried to follow him out of the door, shaking my head at his rudeness. What did his governess teach him? No manners, no politeness, only freezing cold glares. Or, knowing him, he probably glared at the governess and scared her away. Poor girl.

Opening the door, I looked around in his office to see no sign of the icy cold presence of a certain rude employer of mine. Rubbing my hands together to keep them warm, I entered my own office to see the safe door open and a small light making the rows and rows of files shine in the darkness. A tall silhouette stood in front of one of them, as if inspecting them and I joined him, curious to know what did he exactly mean.

"Close the door partially behind you." Leaving the door partially ajar, I stood silently for about a minute, observing him as he went over the file numbers, until my curiousity made me feel like I was about to burst.

"What is in the file?"

"Have some patience, Mr. Linton." I ignored his inappropriate addressal for yours truly as he took out file S638XVI89 and slid his hand into the small gap in the shelf in the place of the file and I silently observed what he was doing. There was a click sound and some whirring sounds from behind the cabinet and I nearly jumped in surprise as the sounds revebrated in the small room. "What's that?"

Very surprisingly, he ignored me and stationed himself in front of the opposite shelf and I promptly followed him. Opening my mouth to enquire about his more than slightly suspicious behaviour, I realised that I had to pick up my jaw from the cold tiles as the entire cabinet in front of me shifted itself ahead with a click. What kind of sorcery was this?

A dark gap which had been created when the shelf moved ahead, protuded out in the dim light of the candle and I stood there rooted in my place as Mr. Ambrose simply put his hand in there and pulled out an unsually small blue file. It was a plain one without any kind of marking or labels on it.

He handed it out to me and I silently took it, carefully examining the available half of the cause of all the trouble brewing since the past few days. My mind idly wondered how such a small bunch of papers could get me kidnapped and threatened as I opened it. I went over the contents and a moment of silence ensued. Then:

"You know Latin?"

"No. This is Greek."

"Looks the same to me." I muttered under my breath and glowered at the undecipherable script, trying to recognise any pattern in the letters, but I didn't find any.

I handed the file back to him, looking at him expectantly, but when he remained silent and started arranging the papers back inside the file, I spoke up. "What is written in it?"

"The secret to Dalgliesh's downfall."

I gave him my best sarcastic smile ever. "Oh. Thank you so much for that information. I would never have guessed it, if you had not told that to me minutes ago."

He arranged the papers and closed the file, not even looking at me as he replied. "Indeed, Mr. Linton."

"Hey! Aren't you going to tell me what's written in it?"

"Respect, Mr. Linton."

"Fine! Aren't you going to tell me what is written in it, sir?"

He finally opened his mouth after a few seconds of silence, as if contemplating his words before trusting me with. "The secret to the success of trade with a dangerous rival waiting for a chance to put you down, is information. Timely information. Without the latest information about market forces, economical and political powers, it is impossible to conclude a business deal profitably, let alone run an entire subcontinent. Or keep an eye on business rivals and their activities. And the sources of Dalgliesh's information-"

"-are his spies." I finished trumphiantly, wondering why I hadn't guessed it already. Without his spies, Dalgliesh's empire would crumble to dust; his power based on his wealth, wealth which came from the extensive trade he conducted with India and other countries, around the world, under British rule.

"But how can you control the information his spies give to hi-achoooo!" I sneezed loudly and the sound was amplified in the safe room. My hands were cupped in front of my mouth and nose and scrunching up my nose, I quickly pulled out his handerkerchief from the pocket and blew my nose.

Curse this cold to the blasted pits of hell! Replacing the handkerchief in my pocket, I glanced up at Mr. Ambrose, who was looking at me with certain traces of...guilt in his eyes? Because I caught a cold? Strange...was he feeling ill? Then why was I feeling so...ugh, emotional? Dammit all!

A few moments passed in silence, and the storm swirling in his sea green eyes made it much more dangerous than his usual silence, until he curled up one fist at his side and I cleared my throat. Immediately his cold, blank expression returned and I had to marvel at the sudden shift in his facial expressions and emotions, going from an open book to an opaque steel wall in seconds.

"Because, Mr. Linton, I had the foresight to send my men in his employ and keep an eye on his actvities. Also, providing wrong information to his spies keeps him in his place," he paused,"behind me."

My eyebrows raised high, I looked at him in awe. No wonder he was the richest man of Britain. He had definitely earned it.

And saved the rest by living like the poorest one.

True. That miser! A laugh burst out from me at the irony, but one look at his ever serious face and I quickly disguised it as a cough.

"But how come Dalgliesh doesn't realise that he has got the wrong information? Doesn't he get suspicious about it?"

"Mr. Linton, Dalgliesh is no fool. Whenever he suspects any of his or my men giving him wrong information, they are disposed of, and replaced quietly. Which is why they need to extremely careful about the validity of the information they provide him with. Of course, not without my permission."

More silence. But this was a thoughtful one, where I digested the horde of information that had been revealed by him tonight.

"This means that a part of your staff works for Dalgliesh, right? Who are these traitors?"

Was it Mr. Stone? Or sallow face, er, Mr. Whathisname, some fruit, ah, Mr. Pearson? Or some one I didn't know? Hopefully it'll be the latter...

"Why would you need to know that, Mr. Linton?"

I put my hands on my hips and tilted my head by a fraction. "So that I'll know next time in a gunfight that which are your men and which are target practice for me, that's why."

A flash of guilt passed through his eyes for a milisecond and I regretted my previous sentence immediately. It had not been his fault anyway; I had to be lazy and oversleep and be late today. The rest of the blame went on Dalgliesh.

"How did Karim and your men get there, anyways? Had they been following me?"

He looked at me straight in my eyes, his sea green eyes glinting in the candlelight. "They have been following you ever since we returned from...our business trip to South America. The coincidence of you and your twin brother both disappearing at the same time, whenever I undertake a business trip, can elude Dalgliesh's attention only for so long."

"He knows." I blurted it out before I could process the fact that I had even opened my mouth. Cold fury flashed in his eyes and he gripped my arm tightly, pulling me closer to him.

"You mean, Dalgliesh has already figured out that Mr. Linton and Ms. Linton is one and the same person?" His question came out rather like a statement and I gulped at his furious expression. No matter whether one was guilty or not, Mr. Ambrose certainly had a way of making them feel like it.

"He also knows sir, now why don't you too acknowledge my true gender?" I tried to lighten his mood by joking about it, and only made it worse as he glared at me icily, the rage in his eyes threatening to freeze the burning wax of the candle in the room. "Do not joke about it, Mr. Linton!" His voice raised slightly as I heard the anger and...fear in his voice? Was he...afraid for me?

I took another step ahead and closed the distance between us. Getting on my tiptoes to reach upto him, I pressed my lips on the smooth skin of his cheek, attempting to calm him down. "Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Ambrose." His arms wound around me reflexively, the file in still in his hand and I felt some of the tension seep out from him.

He remained silent, the fury being replaced by other emotions, his eyes telling me what his lips did not. He had trusted me with one of his important secrets, and all he wanted was me to not break his trust. And I would not. Not ever, I promised myself.

Silence reigned once again in the safe room until I gave a big, loud yawn and relaxed against him. He tightened his grip on me and spoke. "Arthur Wilson, Paul Chester, Harold Turner, Charles Moor-"

"Wha-"

As abruptly as he started reciting names of men I had never even heard of, the candle light flickered for a milisecond and he pulled me behind him with one hand, the other pulling out his gun and was out of the room before I could even say 'yellow piggies'. I swear, one day, I was going to give him a nice long lecture about manners and politeness. Not that I applied it much myself, but God knows how much he needed to improve upon his non-existent ones.

     Picking up the file he had almost thrown at me hoping I would catch it or something, I strode out of the room, closing it firmly behind me, just in case. I was greeted by the tall silhouette of Mr. Ambrose in the soft moonlight from the window, holding a gun to the head of a scrawny man, who looked as panicked as hell, trying to defend himself and protesting loudly.

"...no sir, there was no one here, the door was closed only, who will dare to open it...." I silently ventured closer towards them and the man stuttered upon his words when he caught sight of me. That was when I remembered exactly what was I wearing and attempted to pull the shirt down, my cheeks positively burning. Blast!

The next second, Mr. Ambrose shoved the man out of the door into the lobby, and followed him, closing the door behind him.

Bloody hell! What in the Lord's name had just happened! One minute we were embracing and the other minute he was throwing around files and threatening his own men?! Had he gone nuts?

I placed the candle aside and the file in my desk, locking it with my key and put the key in my pocket. Twisting the door handle, I pushed it, but the door wouldn't budge. What in Mammon's name was it now? I knew my office door opened only in one way!

I pushed again with my shoulder against the door, but it refused to move even an inch. What the-! Had he locked the door? But I didn't see him take out his keys! And why would he lock me in my own office?

Because you're only wearing his shirt, and he wouldn't want you wandering down the corridors like that, especially if his men are standing outside!

Oh. Right. That might be the reason. But what was I supposed to do then? Just sit here and wait for him to return? No! And I clearly remember that Mr. Ambrose did not lock the door. Then why wasn't it opening?

This time, placing both my hands on the door, I pushed with all my might and had to bite back a scream. Holy crap! How could I forget it?!

Clutching my painfully throbbing hand with the cuts and nicks, made all thanks to the owner of the East India Company, I let out another string of curses in Arabic and leaned against the door. As I shifted myself to the side, I kicked the stupid locked door and it responded back with the same force.

"Why is the bloody door locked?!"

A man cleared his throat outside and I halted mid-curse. "Mr. Linton, is that you?"

"Mr. Warren?"

"It is indeed me. Are you alright in there?"

I let out another colourful curse in response, enough to make several rainbows. I cannot even imagine how proud even a drunk sailor would be of my vocabulary! That arrogant, rude miserable son of a bachelor was so going to get an earful as soon as he opened this goddamned door! What the hell did he think I was, trusting me with his important secrets one moment and locking me in my own office when there was the first sign of trouble?!

"Where did that s-Mr. Ambrose go?" My anger at that stubborn employer of mine still reflected in my voice and I took a deep breath, trying to calm down myself as the throbbing started fading. It was, after all, a waste of time and energy to snap at someone else, when the one at whom I wanted to snap wasn't even present.

"He is a bit busy now, Mr. Linton, it seems. He suspects that the man on guard here could have been overhearing your conversation-" For someone whose men's loyalty was being questioned, Warren did seem unusually calm and confident about the whole matter, but I chalked it up to his confidence in his men's loyalty as I wondered whether it was true or not as he continued,"-and he and Karim are currently investigating into the matter."

"I see. Now will you open the door?"

"Sorry, Mr. Linton, but I am under strict orders from Mr. Ambrose to not open the door until he returns, under any condition."

"Of course." My voice dripped with sarcasm and I cursed Mr. Ambrose for caring that much and my own self for feeling so nice and blastedly warm about this!

This was an important matter! If that man was really Dalgliesh's spy, then he should be absolutely terrified! Plus, he could have some information about some more names to add to the extremely important file, currently lying safely in my desk, and I should have been there to see him spill the beans about Dalgliesh! But no! That blasted, hard-headed son of a bachelor just had to go ahead and lock me in my own office and ruin all the fun! And that too because he cared! And he also trusted me with his file! Blast! Where was my feminist inner self and why wasn't it protesting at this blatant display of chauvinism?

Scowling, I pulled back my chair and flopped my legs on the table and leaned my head against the hard wood. Intending to wait for his stubborn, perfectly chiseled self to appear, I glowered at the plain white ceiling and waited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Ladies and Gentlemen,

I edited this chapter and it turned out to be too long (3800+ words...), so I decided to break up this chapter into two...(This is why I refrain from editing anything, I don't know where to stop :p)

Anyways, how was the 'secret to Dalgliesh's downfall'? Did you like the idea? If you find any plotholes, mistakes or have any suggestions, don't hesitate to tell me anytime!

Don't forget to vote, comment and enjoy!

Yours truly,
Ifrit5789.

P. S. Thank you sooo much for 3.5K reads and 376 votes! Love you all!

Published: 23 Feb