stone before we rushed past.
‘What about it? Looked just like a pebble to me.’
The cool look he gave me made me shut my mouth.
‘This “pebble” was quartzite - not the same type of stone as the mountain around us. Such pebbles are only found on beaches. They must have been accidentally carried up by soldiers who passed this way from further down, because up at the mountain there was not a single quartzite anywhere in sight.’
He sounded as if he had spent his life burrowing through all kinds of different rock and knew all of them by name. I wanted to open my mouth to argue, but then I remembered the ease with which he had pushed the mining cart, his familiarity with the functioning of a draisine, and I shut my mouth again. Somehow, I was suddenly certain he knew what he was talking about. If you looked at his chiselled granite face, you simply had to believe that he knew all there was to know about stone.
‘But will we get to the exit fast enough?’ I asked. ‘Before Dalgliesh’s men catch up with us?’
‘As I said, Mr Linton, we have a good head start.’
‘But don't you think they’ll catch up with us quickly once they’ve pushed their cart to the top and roll downhill, after us?’ I asked. ‘After all, they’re three, and we’re only two. Their added weight should make them move a lot faster.’
‘Yes, they are three, and we are only two, that is true,’ agreed Mr Ambrose. ‘But still, the difference in weight might not be as great as you might ima-’
He eyed me, and then suddenly lapsed into silence. A very lengthy silence, and, for him, a very healthy one. Had he continued his sentence, I would not have been responsible for my actions. I gave him my most fiery glare.
‘There will be a difference in weight,’ I huffed, and pushed him away, sliding out from under the sack. ‘A very great difference in weight. Just you wait and see, they will catch up with us fast!’
*~*~**~*~*
Ten minutes. Twenty minutes.
I glared morosely at the tunnel walls, doing my best to avoid looking at him.
‘Do you hear anything?’ I asked.
‘No.’
‘I could have sworn I heard voices behind us!’
‘I didn’t hear anything, Mr Linton.’
Silence.
‘They should have caught up with us long ago. How long has it been since we left them behind?’
‘Exactly twenty-five minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Mr Linton.’
‘It can’t be that long already!’
‘But it is, Mr Linton.’
Silence. Calm silence from him, grumpy silence from me.
Suddenly, my ears pricked up.
‘Do you hear that?’ I demanded.
‘Mr Linton, I told you, they are not-’
‘Not from behind! From there!’ Anxiously, I clambered to my feet and pointed into the darkness ahead of us - only that it was not complete darkness anymore. There was a tiny point of light moving towards us, getting bigger as it approached. But not white light. Not the light of day.
Suddenly, Mr Ambrose appeared beside me. His eyes were as dark as the bottom of the ocean, his mouth pressed into a grim line. Well, it was always pressed into a grim line, but now it was a very, very grim line.
‘What do you think it could be?’ I asked.
The moment the words were out of my mouth, I suddenly heard the noise I had been both dreading and hoping for: the faint squeak of a mine cart’s wheels! But it wasn’t coming from behind. It was approaching from ahead of us, from where the light was.
‘Prepare yourself,’ Mr Ambrose commanded, reaching into his jacket and drawing out something hard and shiny. I only caught a glimpse of the metal barrel of a gun before it disappeared again, hidden behind his left hand, where it was easily accessible. ‘We will have company, soon.’
Shots in the Dark
‘You have a firearm?’ I demanded, my breath catching. He regarded me with supreme disdain. ‘Sir,’ I hurriedly tagged on.
‘Of course I have a firearm, Mr Linton. Do you think I would go into a situation such as this without being prepared?’
‘But why didn’t you use it on the soldiers before?’
‘Because they had long-range weapons and could have shot me long before I could have returned the favour. You don't bring a rifle on an infiltration. It is cumbersome and slow to load. This,’ he patted the weapon hidden behind his hand, ‘is a Colt Paterson improved model prototype with loading lever, 36 calibre. If our friend there,’ he nodded towards the approaching light, ‘gets close enough, he will