carried into his office dated from the same year as the one that had been hidden in his safe. Slowly I realized: He was reading up on something. Preparing. Had Simmons spilled the beans yet, or the potatoes or artichokes, whatever secret vegetables he was hiding from Mr Ambrose?
Finally, I resolved to ask him about it. In person. This was actually possible now. The file boxes being too thick to be shoved under a closed door, the connecting door between his and my office was open all the time now.
I knocked.
‘Yes. What do you want?’
The customary friendly greeting. Oh, what a joy it was to have a kind and warm-hearted employer.
I entered.
‘Mr Ambrose, I was just wondering…’
He listened to my question and took his watch out as he did so. When I was finished, he stated:
‘You have just wasted thirty-one seconds of my valuable time with unnecessary speech, Mr Linton. Simmons has divulged nothing yet. Now bring me the file box I asked for.’
‘But what’s the sense in keeping to question Simmons?’ I persisted. ‘It’s been days since the theft. Whoever has it must long have made use of the information it contained.’
Which you still haven’t deigned to share with me…
Mr Ambrose’s dark eyes flashed menacingly.
‘Do you think I am a half-wit, Mr Linton? I’m sure they would have made use of it, if they could. However, the information is heavily encrypted. We have some time left yet.’
‘Encrypted? You mean… you invented your own secret language?’
‘It is normally referred to as a “code” by specialists of cryptology, but yes, a secret language, if you wish to put it that way.’
I looked down on the files at the desk. ‘Do you do this for all your papers?’ I asked, knowing the answer.
‘No. The file was a… special case. Now get me the file box I want!’
‘Mr Ambrose?’
It shouldn’t be possible for a man to narrow his eyes while not moving one muscle in his face, but somehow Mr Ambrose managed it. ‘I notice you’re still here, Mr Linton.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘I told you to go.’
‘I know, Sir. I stayed anyway.’ Swallowing, I tried to gather my courage. ‘What is in the stolen file? What have they taken from you?’
His eyes flashed again. They looked more like the sea than ever. But if before they had been stormy, now there was a thunderstorm in progress. ‘I already told you that you will never know. I do not appreciate my time being wasted with unnecessary questions.’
‘Why won’t you tell me?’
‘It may surprise you to hear this, Mr Linton, but as your employer, I am in charge, and you have to do what I say. So if I do not wish to tell you something, I am perfectly well within my rights. Your incessant questions are wasting valuable time.’
I gave him my most charming smile. ‘Then why not just tell me anyway? It would mean I’d never have to waste your time again.’
There were a few moments of silence. Nobody could be silent like Mr Ambrose. His silence invaded your ears and pressed on your mind, making you wish for a single word to relieve you of the freezing, cold emptiness.
‘Because,’ he finally said, his voice lower than usual, ‘your life has been put in danger enough already.’
My breath hitched. What did he mean? He couldn’t mean what I thought he meant, could he? He couldn’t mean that to get that piece of paper, somebody might try to kill me?
And the more important question: Why the heck would he care if they did?
‘And,’ he added in a more usual, cool tone of voice, ‘because my last secretary sold this secret to my enemies. Something I wish not to happen again. I have plenty of enemies left.’
Indignation rose up in me. ‘Do you honestly dare to suggest that I might betray you like that?’
He pondered the question for a moment.
‘Yes,’ he finally decided, nodding dispassionately. ‘Everyone has his price.’
‘I would never betray you,’ I said with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. He looked at me intently for a moment - then quickly looked down at the papers on his desk.
‘Bring me the file box I asked for, Mr Linton.’
I didn’t move. ‘When Simmons gives up his information-’ I began.
‘I will inform you,’ he cut me off. ‘Go get the file box, Mr Linton. Now!’
Ouch. What crawled up his derrière and died?
I quickly cut off that line of thinking because it made me think about his derrière, and that wasn’t a place I wanted my