21. Mr Rikkard Ambrose, the Hero of the People

"You," I congratulated my dear husband, "are a bloody manipulative bastard."

"It was your plan," he retorted. "Not mine."

"My plan—which was supposed to be secret, by the way!—was to open a soup kitchen in town to get a rise out of you. It was not to put up a ginormous banner over the soup kitchen proclaiming 'Ambrose Charity for the Poor and Needy—One Hot Meal for Everyone'!"

"The banner was on sale."

"With the words already on it?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought."

I smirked smugly—until I caught sight of the soup kitchen again. Because no matter how much I'd like to bash Mr Rikkard Ambrose's head with a broomstick, his blasted plan seemed to be working splendidly! There were long lines of villagers in front of the soup kitchen, their eyes filled with desperate hope. And there was an even longer line of people heading away, their faces filled with gratitude and their mouths with piping hot stew. Most of them were chatting about the amazing Mr Ambrose and his cherubic charitableness.

Drat! Note to self: never try to put one over on Mr Rikkard Ambrose again.

Not without sufficient preparation, anyway.

Meanwhile, things proceeded as expected. From our hidden observation point, I could see it didn't take long for the mood in town to change...

***

"You there! Watch yourself!" In the centre of the town, an armed thug came around the corner, nearly running into a small boy. "Get out of my way, runt!"

"S-sorry, mister! I didn't mean to bump into you, I swear! I—"

"I said out of the way, brat!" Reaching out, the man made to slap the boy—until his wrist was grabbed by a hand large enough to snap it.

"Hey! Who the hell do you think you a—"

That was when the thug turned around to see the figure towering above him.

"I...I...I'm sorry."

"Leave," Karim ordered.

"Y-yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!"

Arms flailing, the thug staggered backwards, then turned and ran away down the street, until he disappeared around a corner.

"Ehem." Clearing his throat, Karim forced himself to bend down towards the boy. And down. And down. And down. "There, there. Are you all right, um...little human?"

"Oh, Mister!" Eyes sparkling, the boy flung his arms around Karim's leg. Or at least half the way around. "Mister, that was amazing! How did you do that? That was so cool!"

"Um...there, there." Karim continued patting the boy's head, squirming. "And here, too. And somewhere else, too. Which is where I need to be. So...I'll be going now. Goodbye!"

He dashed off down an alleyway, skidded around the corner, and fled for his life.

"Mister! Hey, Mister, where are you going?"

"Who was that?" Other people cautiously emerged into the open, staring after the vanished figure of the bodyguard. "Where did he come from?"

"Did you see how he stood up to those thugs? That was grand!"

"Who is he? Where did he go?"

"I think I saw him before! He was with that tall man in the tailcoat and top hat with the funny accent."

"You don't mean...him?"

"Him?"

"Mr Ambrose! That rich Englishman who has been setting up soup kitchens and helping the poor all throughout town!"

"Really? And the man who just sent that bastard packing works for him?"

"Amazing!"

"What a hero! Three cheers for our protector!"

"Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray!"

***

Far, far away, a British businessman and his amazing wife were crouched on a conveniently placed roof, watching the distant happenings. Or at least the one who owned a set of binoculars was watching.

Damn that Mr Ambrose! Hasn't he ever heard the saying "sharing is caring"?

Most likely he had stuffed his ear in order not to.

"Come on," I tried. "Let me have a look!"

"No."

"Just for a minute!"

"No."

"A second?"

Silence. The refusing kind.

I stopped trying to get hold of the binoculars, mostly because the action in the distance down in the streets seemed to have come to an end. It wasn't long before creaking noises announced someone coming up the ladder at the back of the house. Turning around, I sent Karim a broad smirk.

"Well, well, if it isn't our resident Robin Hood, Defender of the Beardless! How did you enjoy your little stint in heroism?"

His glare would have been enough to scare away a regiment of riflemen. Luckily, I was armed with a revolver instead.

"Sahiba?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever make me do something akin to this ever again, I will end you."

"Aww...you're such an adorable, big teddy bear."

"Sahib? Permission to eviscerate?"

Mr Ambrose gave a jerk of the head. "Denied."

"Ngr." Karim's fists clenched, and he was about to open his mouth to protest, when—

"Because this was my idea."

I swear, at those words Karim threw Mr Ambrose a betrayed look. I could almost read the message in his eyes: How could you! You broke my heart! Why would you send me on a task so horrifically heroic? I thought we would oppress workers and squeeze money out of the masses happily ever after!

Or something along those lines.

"So..." I enquired, glancing between Mr Ambrose and Karim with a sparkle in my eyes. "How often do you think this will have to be repeated to have the desired effect?"

Karim paled. Which was quite impressive for a man with skin as tanned as old shoe leather.

"Sahib! You can't mean to send me on another mission that involves—"

"About three or four, I should guess, Mrs Ambrose. Word of mouth will do the rest."

I tried my very best not to giggle at the expression on Karim's face. Tried.

"Sahib..." Karim attempted to swallow the clump of vinegar that seemed to have appeared in his throat. "Will I be the one required to perform further..." He shuddered as he glanced down at the street, where the small boy was still jumping up and down excitedly. "...heroics? Surely, there are more constructive tasks for me."

"You still don't get it, do you?" I cocked an eyebrow at the massive bodyguard. "You still don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Just wait a few days," I told him. "Wait a few days, and you'll see. And so will those blasted Spaniards!"

***

Señor Maximo Emilio Reyes Espiridion Victor De La Fuente leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine, very much satisfied with himself. Ever since they had squashed that annoying hovel of a mine under their feet, quite literally to his amusement, things had been going splendidly. There were no further shipments of ore deposited at the usual spot, and there wasn't a trace of activity around what had formerly been the gold mine. Applications for the cancellation and reappropriation of the mining license had already been put in through the mayor's office, and the snivelling worm should send the needed paperwork to the capital soon enough.

Life was good. And it was about to become much, much better. Soon, all would belong to him and—

"Señor De La Fuente! Señor De La Fuente!"

Thudding footsteps came up the stairs, distracting De La Fuente from the delicious bouquet of his wine glass. Frowning, he lowered the pristine vessel of crystal, pinning his gaze on the door at the other side of the room just in time to see one of his goons come stumbling inside.

"What," the Spanish nobleman enquired, eyes narrowing, "did I tell you about knocking?"

"S-sat I should always do it, S-señor."

"And what did you just not do?"

"K-knock, señor. I knew I should have, but—"

"¡Silencio! Do you sink I will tolerate sis kind of behaviour? Questioning me? Interrupting my contemplation of my Cabernet Sauvignon 1833? I should have you estrung up and have you whipped for your insolence, fool!"

For some reason, this tirade did not have the desired effect. Rather than being suitably cowed, the philistine who had dared to barge into De La Fuente's room simply stood there, his eyes flicking between his employer and the window. A window through which, he finally noticed, angry shouts were drifting in for some reason.

"I-I'm sorry, Señor De La Fuente! I shall be glad to accept punishment later, but now...right now sere's—"

"Yes?" he demanded impatiently.

Just then, behind De La Fuente, something slammed against the window. Damn pigeons!

"Sere..." The useless thug cleared his throat. "Sere seems to be some trouble going on in town."

"Well? Then what are you waiting for? Take care of it!"

"I would, Señor, but—"

Again, something slammed against the window. Something which decidedly did not sound like an avionically challenged pigeon. Instead, it sounded suspiciously like...rocks?

Growling, De La Fuente whipped around to face the window. "What in Santa Teresa's name is going on out sere? Who se hell—"

That was when a rock crashed through the window, shattering the wine glass in his hand and splattering red wine all over the floor, walls and Spanish nobleman.

The goon cleared his throat again.

"Ehem...sat is going on out sere."

"¡Campesinos sucios! How dare sey—"

Just then, a brown-green blur shot through the smashed window. A moment later, the mouldy cabbage hit the Spaniard straight in the face. Silence descended over the room. That is, until the cabbage slid down the Spaniard's front with a shloomp noise and hit the floor with a wet thud.

"Um... Señor."

"Get sem."

"Pardon, Señor?"

"I said. Get! Sem!" Fury blazing in the Spaniard's eyes, he stabbed a finger at the crowd outside the window. "Show sem what it means to anger a Noble of the Spanish Empire! Make sem pay!"

"But, um, Señor, se people are already agitated, and I don't sink it will be a good idea to—"

"Now!" Reaching over to the wall, the Spaniard tore down the decorative sword that had been hanging there. "Or you'll be first to be struck down!"

"Y-yes!" the scared little rat nodded, backing away. "Yes, Señor!"

"Go! Let those peasants know what happens when you trifle with Maximo Emilio Reyes Espiridion Victor De La Fuente!"

"As you command, Señor!"

Five minutes later, the room was empty except for a stone, a cabbage, and a dripping wet nobleman who suddenly didn't feel so good about the decision he'd just made as he had a moment ago.

***

"You," I told my dear husband, "are a son of a bachelor."

"I thought we had already finished that argument, Mrs Ambrose."

"We did. And I won."

Silence.

"So..." I enquired, watching the thugs down below attack the crowd that was still throwing rocks and empty bottles. "How long do you think it is going to take them to realize this is a bad idea?"

"That, Mrs Ambrose, would imply that they ever will."

One corner of my mouth quirked up. "Very true, Mr Ambrose."

"Indeed."

Down below, one of the thugs raised his rifle, aiming at one of the teens running away. The one that had thrown the first stone. I narrowed my eyes. Quickly, I raised my revolver and aimed. I didn't even know why. It was inevitable that some people would die in this. But...

There suddenly was a voice inside me, a brand-new voice filled with iron-hard determination: A kid, gunned down on my watch? No way in hell!

Bam!

The man down in the street leapt back as the dust next to his feet spewed up like a geyser. The others whirled around to face us—which was the last mistake they ever made.

Bam! The shot echoed from behind them, from the very roof they had just turned their back on. Bam! Bam! Bam!

There, clearly visible to his adoring public below, was Karim, kneeling on the roof, aiming his rifle at the thugs about to attack the civilians.

"Oh, will you look at that?" I grinned. "Our hero of the day intervenes!"

"Do you plan to make a hobby out of enervating my personal bodyguard, Mrs Ambrose?"

"No."

"Hm. Adequate. Well, then—"

"I don't plan to. It's been my hobby since the day I stepped into your lovely mausoleum of an office."

A moment of silence.

"Mrs Ambrose?"

"Yes?"

"Tonight we're going to have a very long discussion on appropriate behaviour for a married lady."

I smirked. "I'm looking forward to it."

"I am not talking about that kind of 'discussion'."

"I know. But I am. And how long do you think it'll take me to convince you to see things my way?"

Bam! Bam!

"Could we postpone this discussion until after we are done being shot at?"

"Oh, certainly, Sir." My smirk turned into a beatific smile. "After all, I only allow one man to, ehem...shoot his bullets into me."

I saw a muscle in his cheek twitch.

"Mrs Ambrose, I—"

Bam!

He ducked as another shot whizzed over our heads, just quickly enough to prevent his top hat being blown off his head. I crouched down as well as bullets whizzed over our heads.

"Remember what I said about postponing this discussion, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Um...yep. Maybe you're right."

Bam! Bam! Crack!

Behind us, roof tiles splintered as a barrage of bullets hit the roof. Damn!

"They've circled around!"

"You don't say."

"Oh, shut up, you!"

Throwing myself around, I dashed towards the top of the roof, beyond which lay the ladder and salvation! Time to get the hell out of dodge! Skidding forward, I grabbed the ridge of the roof, somehow trying to pull myself over and into cover without getting turned into a sodding sieve!

Just at that moment, however, the gunfire suddenly ceased. Quickly vaulting over the ridge, I turned around, my gaze sweeping over the streets, trying to figure out what was going on. It didn't take long.

"Holy Moly!"

Things in town weren't just simmering anymore. They were on a boil! People were streaming out of houses and tents, armed with broken bottles, clubs, pitchforks and other pretty accessories. The thugs were retreating, bumping into each other, as they suddenly realized what every bully eventually realized if they were stupid enough to make a wrong move: that there were a hell of a lot more average joes than assholes, and it was not a good idea to piss them all off.

"Um...there now..." Cautiously raising his rifle until it pointed skywards, the head thug sent the crowd a charming smile. Or at least what he thought was one. "We didn't mean nothing. You guys understand we were just joking, right? Guys? Hey, guys, why don't you—aaah!"

Barely avoiding having his balls skewered by a pitchfork, the man leapt back, rushing towards the door of the Spaniards' house. "Retreat! Everyone, retreat!"

"Get 'em!" the pitchfork guy shouted. "Get 'em, folks!"

Like a pack of wolves, the people launched themselves forward, encircling the formerly oh-so-feared thugs. It seemed like half the town was down there. I even caught sight of a certain salesman hovering at the edge of the crowd, probably considering whether to try and sell Fizzlewiz Marvellous Mob Motivator to the horde. In the end, he seemed to think better of it. It probably had something to with the way several people were swinging pickaxes, chanting "Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The armed goons tried desperately to break out of the encirclement, to get a signal to the rest of their forces, to do anything to save themselves, but all in vain. In the end, they could only retreat under the unceasing onslaught of rocks, vegetables and broken bottles.

Cocking my head, I gazed down at the interesting spectacle. "I think your plan is going rather adequately, Mr Ambrose."

"Agreed, Mrs Ambrose."

"So...do you think it's time we skedaddle before someone remembers we're up here?"

"That would be advisable."

Pulling back our heads, we slid down the slanted roof until we reached the edge.

"Since we're done with phase one of your evil master plan," I whispered, reaching out for the ladder we had come up, "do you mind telling me what you've got planned for the next step?"

"Well, it is quite simple, really. We've stayed in the background so far, but all of the little people already know exactly who is on their side and who is not. The best plans are those that fall in place by themselves. All we have to do is—"

But what exactly we would have to do, I never found out. Because just then, as I was about to take the first step down the ladder, I felt a sudden surge of dizziness sweep over me, nearly knocking my legs out from under me. I had never felt anything like it. The world turned upside down, the sky falling to earth and the earth rushing upwards, my stomach whirling as if it were a windmill. What the heck was going on?!

Lurching, I made a desperate grab for the ladder. I needed something, anything to hang on to! I just needed to grab hold, and—

I fell over the edge of the roof.

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

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

My apologies for the slightly delayed chapter today. I had a rather important doctor's appointment that couldn't be put off. Please keep your fingers crossed for me!

Yours Truly

Sir Rob