Midnights in London

Taking a moment to neaten his appearance and clear his throat, Commissioner Henderson confidently entered the opulent Council Chamber, where fellow accomplished men sat in hushed whispers.

In his hands, he held the key to untold power. And, oh boy, was it intoxicating.

Having seen the unseen, how could one return to a life of willfully blissful ignorance?

Captain Robertson awoke sometime later – how much time? He wasn’t sure – to find himself in a place he did not recognise.

My job was simple: use my knowledge and power to expand the territories of the Company.

Something larger was afoot, and Mr Daim was going to get to the bottom of it.

One moment, they were in the confines of the little office overlooking the factory floor. The next, they were somewhere else entirely.

As much as Captain Robertson would have jumped at the chance to sit this out, the Duke had tasked him with keeping a close watch on Mr Daim. Orders were orders, and good soldiers followed them.

Captain Robertson exited the hotel to find a clean-shaven Mr Daim leaning against a cabriolet, reading Shakespeare.

The monsoon had arrived late this year, but arrived it did, and to the people of Mallianwala, it was most welcome.