Silence is Golden

20. I am Horrifically Tortured

'I am well accustomed to conditions like these,' I mimicked as we were marched along, pulling a wooden face reminiscent of a certain inept bodyguard. 'We have jungle in the country of my birth, very much like this, and I have the ears of a bat and the eyes of a panther.'

'Be quiet!' Karim growled from behind me.

'I will know if someone approaches well before they come close enough to do harm.'

'I said–'

'Silence, both of you!' Mr Ambrose's hissed command was enough to make us shut up. 'This is no time for senseless bickering!'

Well, he was right about that. Our situation was about as dire as it could be. Despite having discovered Mr Ambrose's papers in his knapsack, the mysterious commander into whose hands we had fallen seemed disinclined to believe that we were simply harmless subjects of the British Empire, in the wrong place at the wrong time. To judge by the cold, calculating glances he sent our way, he was imagining a far more sinister explanation. Thanks to Mr Ambrose, I was an expert at deciphering cold, calculating glances. And these, trust me, were not boding well.

Tied together by thick, unyielding rope, we were being led off through the jungle towards the soldiers' headquarters and this mysterious general who would decide our fate. I didn't like the idea of having my fate decided by any man, let alone a general. In my experience, they were more used to aiming cannons at other people than trying to understand their point of view.

'What are we going to do?' I whispered, shuffling a bit closer to Mr Ambrose, just as much as the rope allowed.

'We are going to behave like model prisoners, Mr Linton. We will be quiet and well-behaved. Do you understand? Quiet.'

Oh, I understood all right. He didn't want these military types to know about the treasure. I quite agreed. Whether rebel or government officer – the man in charge of these soldiers had a cold sparkle in his eyes that made me think not much was beyond him, theft and murder included.

'And then?' I asked, lowering my voice even further.

'Then, if fate is on our side, we will find a chance to continue on our way.'

Translation: I will mud-wrestle fate until she is agreeable.

I smiled. Sometimes, it really was a pleasure to work for Rikkard Ambrose.

Storm lanterns lighting up the way ahead, we continued our march through the jungle. There was no path visible anywhere, and without a compass, there was no way of telling which way we were going. Even had I had the skill to read the direction from the stars, the thick tangle of branches overhead prevented anyone from getting their bearings.

Anyone except our captors, that is. They obviously knew where they were going. After only ten minutes march or so, the thick jumble of vines and leaves around us thinned, the trees began to stand farther and farther apart, and finally, the jungle receded and we marched out into the open.

In the dark, I couldn't see much of what lay ahead. But there was a feeling of freedom, of clear space and skies above, that made me think we were not just in a clearing, but a much wider open space. I felt a faint breeze rustle my hair and breathed in, feeling like I had real air in my lungs for the first time all day.

'Alto! Quem vai lá?'4

Men stepped out of the darkness, armed with sabres and rifles. They had their hands on the hilts of their weapons, but the moment they recognised the soldiers ushering us forward, they relaxed.

'Olá, Costa! Que você tem aí?'5

'Prisioneiros. O Coronel nos quer para os levar para as células.'6