"Strange..."

At the sound of the familiar voice beside her, Adaira glanced over at the captain of her heart and soul—then her gaze slid down to where their hands were joined, and one corner of her mouth curled up. "What's strange? The fact that my brother hasn't tried to eviscerate you for holding my hand yet?"

"Huh? Well, yes, that, too." He rubbed his chin. "But what's really strange is this." He pointed at one of many footprints on the dirty floor. It was already half-obscured by the tracks of various small animals and bits of muck. "This footprint isn't entirely new. And what's more..." His finger moved to point at another set of footprints not far away. "These are far too regular, and there are a lot of them. As if they don't belong to a scattered group of refugees, but to a sizable troop of professional soldiers."

Adaira frowned. "But didn't you say that that footprint earlier didn't belong to a military boot?"

"It didn't. These don't, either."

"So you, what, think that one or two refugees magically turned into a whole troop of soldiers? You're not making any sense!"

"I usually don't. Normally, I consider it part of my charm, but right now..." He tugged on the little speck of a beard on his chin, still intently focused on the footprints. "I don't know what to make of this."

"Should we tell my brother?" Adaira enquired.

"You there!" came a certain icy voice from ahead the moment she had finished speaking. "Stop muttering and get a move on!"

"Somehow," Captain Carter murmured wryly, "I don't think your brother is particularly willing to listen to me."

Adaira felt one of her eyelids twitch.

"Well, he'd bloody well better listen to me!" Striding forward, she quickly made her way towards her brother and opened her mouth to say something—but before she could, she saw her brother crouch down and examine the ground. Frowning, Adaira sped up.

"What's the matter, Rick?"

"There are suddenly more footprints on the floor. And they don't belong to refugees."

"We noticed."

"Did you also notice that they are changing direction?" He pointed down a tunnel to the left. "They're going down this tunnel."

"And?" Adaira cocked her head. "What's so strange about that?"

"That tunnel doesn't lead out of the city. It leads straight towards the military district."

Adaira froze. What the...? Why would refugees be heading to the military district?

They wouldn't, a small voice at the back of her mind whispered. Not unless they aren't refugees.

Then again, even if they weren't refugees, so what? It wasn't like this had anything to do with the five of them, was it?

Her brother seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Rising to his feet, he ignored the footprints and gestured down the same tunnel all of them had been heading down before.

"Let's go. We've wasted enough time here."

"All right." Adaira nodded and was about to follow her brother—only to hesitate when she saw a flash of something out of the corner of her eye.

"Get down!"

Captain Carter's shout was all the warning she got.

Boom!

In the confines of the tunnel, the simple gunshot sounded like a thunderous explosion. Adaira felt something whip dangerously close past her face. A moment later, a hard, muscled figure rammed into her and she found herself on the dirty floor with Captain James Carter on top of her.

"Again?" she wheezed. "Just so you know, sewers are not the right place for hanky-panky."

"Be quiet and keep your head down!"

Despite the situation, Adaira couldn't keep a corner of her mouth from twitching. "You sound like my brother."

Just then, a gunshot, followed by a bone crunching punch, met her ears.

"I think that sounds like your brother," the captain commented.

"What's happening? Get off me! I want to see!"

"And I want a piece of cheesecake. We don't always get what we want." Reaching out, he cupped her face with one hand, his gentle brown eyes staring straight into hers. "Stay down. For me. Please?"

She opened her mouth to respond—then, a moment later, closed it again and stopped struggling to get out from under him. That look in his eyes... He looked as if he would rather let himself be torn apart by bullets than move a single inch. Suddenly, Adaira didn't feel the urgent need to get up anymore. Besides...

Thud! Wham!

She didn't really have to look to know what her brother was doing right this moment.

Crash!

One final impact resounded through the tunnel. When no other noise followed after that, Adaira slowly stretched her neck to peek past the captain's shoulder. Something she regretted a moment later when she saw her brother stalking towards her, an unconscious man held by the lapels and his icy gaze fixed on her, and, more importantly, Captain Carter on top of her.

Oops.

"Ehem." Hurriedly getting to his feet, the captain tried to dust himself off—which would have worked better had he truly been covered in dust and not in sewage. "So...nice job. Who is this fellow? Why did he attack us?"

As expected (by Adaira, at least), her brother completely ignored him.

"You." Marching towards Adaira, her brother stabbed a finger at her face. "In the future, be more careful. And you..."

He turned his head towards Captain Carter.

"...good job jumping on top of your sister?" the captain suggested helpfully.

If looks could kill, the icy stare that he received in response would long have frozen Captain Carter into an icicle. And even if they couldn't, the stare also informed everyone that murder-capable looks were a work in progress that would be completed as soon as possible.

Quickly, Adaira stepped in front of her intended, just in case her brother would actually complete said project. He could be scarily efficient sometimes.

"Ehem, let's get back to more important matters, shall we?" she suggested.

"I think we are dealing with the most important matters."

"Really?" Adaira jabbed a thumb towards the unfortunate fellow who was still dangling from her brother's clenched fist. "Then what about him?"

"Hm? Oh, right." Only then did her dear sibling seem to remember the existence of the man. Something which the man in question, who was only just regaining consciousness, didn't appear to be very happy about. "You have a point."

Slap! Slap!

Two crisp slaps fully brought the captive back to the land of the living.

"May I, as well?" Lilly enquired, cracking her knuckles.

Dang! Why didn't I think of that?

Adaira opened her mouth and was just about to offer her services, too, but her brother shook his head before she could.

"Maybe later. For now, I have some questions for this gentleman."

Reaching up, he tore off the cloth that covered the other man's face, revealing a face with a hooked nose and pale skin. Far too pale to belong to anyone born in India.

***

The moment the man's pale face came into view, I felt a cold tingle down my spine. Apart from British civilians, to whom this heavily armed masked man probably didn't belong, there were mainly three kinds of people in India who were that pale: missionaries, bureaucrats and soldiers. I highly doubted that there was a lot of proselytising going on down here in the sewers. Also, no matter how many rats were to be found down here, I didn't think many of them were bureauc rats. So that only left...

"Who are you?" Tightening the grip on the man's lapels, Mr Ambrose slammed him against the nearest wall. "What are you doing down here?"

A dismissive smile played around the man's lips. He didn't answer. Uncharacteristically, Mr Ambrose did not seem pleased by the silence.

"Karim?" my dear husband called out to his bodyguard.

"Yes, Sahib."

Stepping forward, Karim pulled out his sabre and placed the blade next to the captured men's family jewels. The pale man suddenly became even paler.

"So..." Leaning over towards Karim, I enquired out of the corner of my mouth. "Should I be concerned you did this without actually having to be given any orders?"

"No." He glanced down at me. "You literally don't have anything to be concerned about."

Huh. Good point.

"Now..." Ignoring our banter, Mr Ambrose pierced the captive with his icy gaze. "Talk."

"I-in your dreams!" the man coughed, barely squeezing his words past my husband's tight grip.

In response, Mr Ambrose jerked his head, and Karim increased the pressure of his sabre ever so slightly.

"No dreams for you. Only nightmares." Mr Ambrose cocked his head. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"I...I..." The man hesitated for a long moment—then clamped his mouth shut again.

My eyebrows rose in surprise. This fellow was actually so brave?

"He's quite courageous. Far too courageous, to be exact."

"Indeed."

"It seems he would rather have his balls cut off than betray any secrets."

"Indeed."

"There can be only one explanation for this."

Mr Ambrose nodded grimly. "I concur."

A grim expression on my face, I stepped towards the prisoner and narrowed my eyes at him. Taking a deep breath, I asked in a solemn tone: "Are you actually a woman with socks stuffed down your trousers?"

There was a long moment of silence in the tunnel. A moment during which the prisoner, the captain, Adaira, Karim and even my own husband stared at me oddly.

"What?" I demanded, feeling a little bit offended. "I'm speaking from personal experience!"

Choosing to ignore me, Mr Ambrose turned back to his prisoner.

"You are afraid of someone, aren't you?" he demanded. "Someone whom you fear more than you do me, who is right in front of you."

There was a pause. Then...

"Yes."

"As I thought. You think that no matter what I do to you, I'm just a random stranger after all. At most, I can kill you. What can I do that would make you really afraid?"

Taking a step forward, Mr Ambrose cocked his head. His gaze directed at the other mean was not particularly cold now, nor even angry, but merely emotionless, as if looking at a disposable tool. "I haven't introduced myself yet, have I?"

"S-so what?" The prisoner coughed. "Why would I be afraid of some savage lurking in a sew—aaagh!"

The man's face contorted, probably because Karim's hand holding the sabre had slipped. Completely coincidentally, I was sure.

"He doesn't like that word," Mr Ambrose informed his captive. "And as for me being a so-called savage..." Reaching up, he pulled the fake beard away from his face and sent the man a chilling look. "My name is Rikkard Ambrose."

The prisoner's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Ah. I see you recognize that name." My husband's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "And yet...you're not talking."

The man remained silent.

Mr Ambrose gaze intensified, as if he weren't seeing the man in front of him, but seeing through him. It was a look I was all too familiar with, and one I was very happy to see directed at someone other than myself.

"You are not talking because, whoever your master is, you are still more afraid of him than you are of me. Hm. Despite knowing who I am, you think he is more powerful than I am."

There was a momentary pause—and then, from one moment to another, the temperature in the sewers suddenly plummeted to arctic levels. Frost seemed to spread over the old stone walls, and everyone except Mr Ambrose, Karim and I took a step back from where my husband kept his captive pinned to the wall.

"Where," he demanded, his voice like a deadly blade of ice, "is Dalgliesh?"

For just an instant, a tiny sliver of a second, the captive's eyes widened. But that was enough. My fists clenched as rage exploded within me.

Son of a—!

That blond bastard was actually down here? Instinctively, I stepped towards the minion of the man who had nearly cost me my life and my family—yet Mr Ambrose was faster than I. Tightening his fingers around the man's throat, he slammed him against the wall.

"Tell me! Where is Dalgliesh? What is he planning?!"

"You...too late!" The captive wheezed. "The six of us...just rear guard. Lord...far ahead. Plan...already happening."

"What is happening? Speak!"

In response, a twisted grin spread over the captive's face. "R-right now? Ambush!"

"Six of us? Ambush?" I demanded. "What are you talking abou—"

It was only then that the meaning of his words sank in. But it was already too late. Five dark figures had already emerged from the nearest tunnel, weapons aimed at us.

-------------------------------------

My dear Readers,

Well, what do you think Dalgliesh's evil plan is? A digital cookie for anyone who guesses correctly! :-)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob