Auspicio… Regis… Et Senatus… Angliae…
What did that mean?
‘By the authority of the King and Parliament of England.’
Startled, my eyes flicked to where Mr Ambrose was standing, the perfect model of the British-Indian soldier.
‘That’s what it means,’ he said, again managing to speak in his cool, calm voice without his mouth even twitching. ‘The motto under the coat of arms of the East India Company that you were staring at. “By the authority of the King and Parliament of England”.’
‘How did you know that was what I was looking at?’ I hissed.
‘Your lips were moving, forming the Latin words. When I say “be silent”, Mr Linton, that also means don’t move your lips.’
Too preoccupied to argue, I gave a tiny nod and swallowed. My eyes once more took in the soldiers on the gallery, then returned to the roaring lions on the giant tapestries, and to the words they shouted at the world. Auspicio Regis Et Senatus Angliae…
No wonder Lord Dalgliesh felt justified in doing whatever he wanted. He had the Queen’s Official Seal of Approval.
Beside me, Mr Ambrose tensed. Tensed more than he was already tensed, I mean - which, considering his normal stance, was an impressive feat.
‘Out of the way! Quickly!’ With those words hissed into my ear, he sprang away and pulled me after him in a decidedly unsoldierly manner. We were behind a heap of crates before I could utter a word of protest. And then I heard his voice, and the protest died in my throat.
‘…have everything loaded onto the ship immediately, please, Captain. I shall await a full report in half an hour.’
Ice flooded my heart, and I stumbled after Mr Ambrose, not uttering a single word. Just before he pulled me out of sight, and we disappeared behind the heap of wooden crates, I saw it, out of the corner of my eye. I saw the golden mane and hawk’s beak. I saw the steely glint of piercing blue eyes.
Lord Dalgliesh was here.
‘So it is decided?’
The voice was rough with a hint of cockney, but many other accents mixed into it. Spying over the top of one of the crates, I saw the burly shape of a ship’s captain next to the aristocratic figure of Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh.
A hand gripped my collar and pulled me down. Suddenly, a hard body was pressing into me from behind.
‘If you intend to spy on them over the top of those crates,’ Mr Ambrose hissed into my ear, holding me with a granite grip, ‘then I suggest that you remove that blue hat before you do so. It sticks out over the top.’
Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Embarrassed, I snatched the blue hat off my head. He, I noticed, had already removed his. Pity. It really suited him.
‘Yes.’ That was the voice of Lord Dalgliesh.
‘And what decision have you come to, if I may ask, Your Lordship? I don't want to appear presumptuous, it is simply a matter of planning…’
‘The file is leaving this building, Captain. It is going out to ?le Marbeau.’
My head whipped around to look at Mr Ambrose. The file! Had he heard, too? Yes. I could see that he had. His left little finger was twitching.
‘If you pardon my asking, Your Lordship…’ The captain’s voice was hesitant. ‘Why did you keep it here at all? Wasn't that a bit… risky?’
I looked over the wall of crates again just in time to see Lord Dalgliesh direct a friendly smile at his captain. It was the same friendly smile that a shark directs at his prey.
‘Risky?’ He enquired, smoothly. ‘Whyever would you think so?’
‘Um, well, the means by which you acquired the file were not exactly… you know…’
‘No. I do not know. Please, enlighten me.’
The captain met the gaze of the steel-blue eyes just for an instant.
‘Nothing,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I didn’t mean nothing, Your Lordship.’
Lord Dalgliesh nodded graciously. ‘I’m glad to hear that. I would be very sad to find out that my staff did not think well of me and my methods. You do think well of me, Captain, don't you?’
‘Of course, My Lord! I think the world of you, My Lord.’
‘How fortunate! Then, I believe, we can continue our working relationship in a manner profitable to us both. Now, where were we…?’
The captain opened his mouth to remind his master, but then thought better of the risk of talking, and shut his mouth again.
‘Ah, yes!’ Lord Dalgliesh raised a finger. ‘You were enquiring why I had not brought the file out of here at once.’ He met the captain’s eyes. ‘Doubtless you were concerned because there are so many thieves and crooks in London, and my rightful property is in danger here, am I correct?’
‘Yes, My Lord. Absolutely correct, My Lord.’
‘Well, I must admit, it had occurred to me to send the file to a safer location immediately. But, you see, unfortunately, it was in code.’
Puzzlement spread over the captain’s face. ‘Code? You mean like code of honour and that gentleman stuff?’
‘No. I mean a secret language.’ Lord Dalgliesh’s face was still smiling, but his right hand was speaking a different language. It had clenched into a tight fist, the knuckles white. ‘Unfortunately, we have not yet been able to decipher it.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something on Mr Ambrose’s face. His non-existent expression didn’t change, but I thought I saw a dark gleam of triumph in his eyes.
‘And even more unfortunately,’ Lord Dalgliesh continued, ‘the fact that the documents are encoded makes it difficult for them to be removed from London. The greatest cryptographers of the world work here at government institutes.’
‘But… now you’re taking the file out of here anyway?’ the captain dared to enquire.
‘Yes.’ Lord Dalgliesh took something out of his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. The object was shiny and yellowish, and looked like some kind of pelt. It took me a moment to recognize the lock of Simmons' golden hair. The hair of a dead man. With a quick, merciless motion, Dalgliesh crushed it between his fingers and let it fall to the floor. ‘I have received signs that this course of action would be advisable.’
The captain stared at the remains of the lock in confusion. He didn’t know what I knew.
‘But… what about these code experts? If, like you said, they live here in London, My Lord…’
‘I think they should be encouraged to move. Sea climate is very beneficial for one’s health at this time of year. I am sure you can explain this to them, very clearly.’
The captain blanched. ‘Your Lordship, surely you are not suggesting…’
He trailed off. Lord Dalgliesh waited, watching him quietly. Finally, he enquired: ‘Yes?’
Once more, there was a friendly smile on his face.
The captain swallowed. ‘I… My Lord, these are important men. If they should suddenly vanish in a violent manner…’
‘Violence? Dear me, who said anything of violence?’ Lord Dalgliesh’s smile widened a fraction. ‘You must have completely misunderstood me, Captain. You will encourage these people to take a holiday, nothing more. I am sure they will see the benefit of it when you have explained everything adequately.’
The captain’s head slumped down. It was probably pressed down by the weight he knew would come if something went wrong. If something went wrong, everything would be on his head. Lord Dalgliesh’s innocent smile made that clear. Lord Dalgliesh would always be innocent.
‘Their disappearance will not go unnoticed,’ he started a last attempt at convincing his master. ‘The press…’
‘The press will follow my suggestions and be discrete. I own it, after all.’
‘Well… not all of it, My Lord. Some of it belongs to Mr Ambrose.’
The friendly smile froze on Dalgliesh’s face. Around them, the workers stopped in mid-stride and turned towards the two. Silence fell over the hall, as more and more pairs of eyes fixed on them. Waves of silence spread out in the pond of the hall from the pebble that had been Mr Ambrose’s name.
It seemed to dawn on the captain that he had made a very serious mistake. The last remnants of colour drained from his face.