The Invisible Amateur Page 7

  Now he was sat in the middle of a room that stunk of male body-odour with both Amelia and Sherlock and no easy route out that didn't risk her getting hurt. And he still didn't know where the information that the terrorists were blackmailing the royal family with was. This was exactly the sort of scenario he'd intended to avoid.

  Over the last few hours he'd run every possible plan for escape through his mind, and he knew Sherlock would have done as well. The fact that both were still sat there patiently waiting was confirmation that both knew it was best to wait to act. Protecting Amelia would need to be Sherlock's main goal, while his needed to be finding the information and acquiring it before it could be taken somewhere safer. He hoped Sherlock would see that and know what to do when the time came.

  Meanwhile, Daniels would be waiting for them. His chauffeur knew better than to do anything else on this mission. It wasn't approved, and therefore no help could be called for. At best, the pair of retired agents who were following Amelia around might decide to help, but that was so unlikely it was better off being discounted. Watching a girl move about London was one matter, performing a rescue mission when outnumbered was far more. This wasn't their fight, and hadn't been for several years. Both had already sacrificed a lot for the survival of their country. Neither would want to risk more.

  Knowing their chance would need to come shortly before dawn, as the hours and minutes ticked by, Mycroft grew more tense. By morning, they would lose the information for good.

  When the first light of the morning was still over an hour away, Amelia grew restless beside him. For several minutes she fidgeted back and forth, until every eye was on her.

  “Sorry,” she said when she noticed the attention. After glancing at them all, she looked at the two Korean men sitting opposite. “Do you think I could go to the bathroom?”

  Mycroft groaned and the men ignored her. Yet another reason why he didn't like having a woman to work with. They never seemed to be able to hold their bladder. Women and needing the toilet was an art form he would never understand, and it seemed the Koreans didn't, either. They told her to be silent in their language and ignored her.

  “Myron, I don't think they understand. Will you ask...”

  “Silence,” the left one yelled again. Amelia bit down on the last few words of the sentence, but she fidgeted some more and gave him a pleading look. Before he could get annoyed enough with her to consider translating, his younger brother did the honour.

  As soon as Sherlock had finished speaking in Korean Amelia pulled a pleading desperate look at both men. At first it didn't look like it would work, but after talking amongst themselves in low whispers, they agreed to take her and motioned for her to get to her feet.

  It took her a few awkward shuffles to get the momentum to lift her body up, as most of her limbs appeared to have gone to sleep, but she eventually managed it and smiled gratefully as the smaller of the two men took hold of her arm, just above the elbow, and led her out to the landing.

  The door closed before Mycroft could see which way the bathroom lay, but he'd caught enough of a glimpse to know another of the doors off the landing was open and someone was in there doing something while sat on an old dining chair.

  Over the next few minutes he heard the usual sounds one might expect when someone was using a bathroom, ending with a flush and the patter of feet towards the sink. Mycroft doubted they'd let her wash her hands, but found himself wrong when the tap turned on and water gurgling through pipes sounded from above.

  A few seconds later, a loud thud let him know that someone's head had connected with solid wood and come off the worse. A few more yells came from just outside the door, and their own guard got to his feet, caught between the dilemma of being needed outside and in there. It only took him a couple of seconds to decide to watch them.

  Mycroft closed his eyes, internalising his groan of despair. For some unknown reason Amelia had decided to try and free herself, but he knew she wouldn't succeed and now their own guard was doing exactly the right thing in the situation. Even though Mycroft and Sherlock could probably overpower him while Amelia was distracting the others, they wouldn't get more than a couple of feet outside the room without someone shooting, and it was likely to be Amelia who took the bullet. If the guard had left them to try and get her back, they might have got further and evened the fight well enough to protect her, but that wouldn't happen now.

  To add even more stupidity to her decision, it would also make them more alert to their actions. Once one tried to escape, the terrorists would be more aware of a second attempt. She'd just ruined their chances of getting away with the information and her unharmed.

  A few more thuds and a cut-off squeal of pain followed this process in Mycroft's mind and confirmed his suspicions. Already she'd been stopped, and for nothing. The only relief was the lack of gunshot noises, silenced or otherwise.

  The brief attempt at escape ended with the door opening and Amelia being thrown onto the floor at his feet. She groaned in pain as it wrenched her shoulder, and he could already see the swelling around her eye and right cheek bone from the punch that must have landed there. From all the movement, the twine had also rubbed through the final few layers of skin around her wrists, and it was turning red before his eyes.

  He ignored her and turned his head away, unable to keep the anger from his eyes, but not wanting the Koreans to see it. After a few seconds, Sherlock leant forward and helped her lift herself into a sitting position between them. As soon as he let go of her, she slumped against the wall.

  When she tilted her own head back and closed her eyes he risked glancing at her again. Her breath came in quick gasps through clenched teeth as she tried to block out the pain she was in. Most of it would fade as she sat there, but he found himself hoping she hadn't broken anything. He still wanted to get her out of this alive, even if she'd been stupid enough to make it harder on them. He could only hope the pain she was in now was enough to make her learn her lesson.

  The Korean terrorist who had gone out with her to the bathroom didn't come back. Instead, one of the Russians who hadn't yet been their guard came and took his place. Mycroft recognised this man. He'd been one of the Russians on the boat.

  He counted another twenty minutes going by before the door opened and two more men came in. The motioned for him and his two companions to get to their feet. This time Amelia needed help, and she grunted in pain a couple of times before the three of them stood. It was time for them to be moved to yet another safe-house.

  They were ushered down the stairs one at a time, with a gun in their backs encouraging them to cooperate. Once they were in the hallway, Mycroft heard the sound of a van pulling up outside and each of them were gagged with tape to keep them quiet.

  Sherlock would also know that this was the only moment they had to escape, and Mycroft needed to be last out of the house to go back for the information. Heading up the group of three, the younger Holmes brother stepped out of the door first, followed by Amelia, putting him exactly where he needed to be. The familiar Russian with a gun came up behind them. Sherlock needed to be the one to make the first move when he had a gun so close to his back. He would need to cover Amelia long enough to get her out of there.

  The back door of the van was open and Sherlock had his foot on the back bumper before he made a move. He pushed sideways with his foot and threw his whole body into the nearest terrorist. Immediately Mycroft pushed Amelia down to the ground and spun himself around to face the Russian holding a pistol.

  He didn't shoot, but pointed it at Mycroft and threatened to. This was a problem. Of all the tests his brother and he had done, surviving a bullet at close range wasn't one of them. Mycroft hadn't moved fast enough, once again.

  As his mind was running through the possibilities, Sherlock grabbed Amelia's arm and tried to pull her away from the van and the house, but she wouldn't go. Instead, she came up beside him. It seemed she wasn't leaving without him. The sentiment was foolish at best.
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br />   Before he could push her away and get her and his brother out of there, a darting body came from the side and tackled the terrorist. The gun went off as he hit the ground, but the bullet whistled past his ear without causing harm.

  “Run,” a familiar voice said as its owner got back to his feet. More guns were fired from the direction of the house, and the four of them took off down the road towards Mycroft's car. While running, he pulled off the tape that kept him silent, and noticed Amelia do the same, although their hands remained bound in front of them. Sherlock had already freed his mouth.

  Daniels must have been prepared, because the vehicle came down the road towards them as they sprinted. Sherlock got there first, yanked the door open and pushed their extra helper inside the car. Amelia followed only a few seconds later.

  Knowing everyone who needed to be was safe, Mycroft stopped running and turned to go back for the information, but his younger brother grabbed his arm.

  “It's too late. It would be suicide, even for us,” Sherlock said in a low voice.

  As two of the Russian men came forward to try and get a better aim, he knew his younger brother was right. They got into the car and he ordered Daniels to drive off.

  “Just drop me off here,” Jeremy said when they were a few blocks away. “My work is done.”

  “Tha–”

  Jeremy put up his hand.

  “We're even now. We'll leave it at that.” The retired agent got out of the car and Mycroft knew he'd never see him again. The job was done, and they had completed the final business arrangement between them.

  “Got anything to undo these?” Sherlock asked as soon as the three of them were alone. He held his hands up to emphasise the twine still holding them together.

  “I have,” Amelia replied before he could. She turned to one side, but his younger brother didn't know what she meant. After expressing an exasperated sigh, Mycroft reached towards her and pulled one of her knives from the sheath at the bottom of her corset.

  “At least that's something you can help with,” Mycroft said, unleashing the anger and frustration he felt. If Amelia hadn't interfered he'd have the information, and the royal family, country, and her would be safe. “You should have gone back to the hotel.”

  “I came to help, like I've been training to,” she said as Mycroft cut Sherlock's bonds and then handed his brother the blade to return the favour. When both of them were free, she held out her hands to be cut free as well.

  “You're an amateur who thinks you are a lot better than you are. Because of your actions, our country and royal family aren't safe. They still have the information.” Mycroft vented his frustration on Amelia, and although he knew he'd made a mistake or two of his own, it would have been rectified had she not acted out herself.

  “Brother, it's not–” Sherlock tried to speak, but Amelia cut him off.

  “It's okay, you don't need to defend my actions.” She reached into the top of her corset with two fingers and pulled out a small data stick that matched the description they'd been given many hours earlier. With a calm but focused look, she held it out to him. “Your secrets are safe. They have been for hours.”

  A chuckle started deep in Sherlock's chest and soon turned into a full blown laugh as Mycroft took the stick from her.

  “It seems our invisible amateur has done what we couldn't, brother of mine. Did you get it on your eventful trip to the bathroom?” Sherlock smiled at her and she nodded.

  “I saw one of them wiping the computer hard drive clean, and an envelope was beside it, about the right sort of size for this, on the way to the bathroom. I took the Korean by surprise, and then the Russian. Once I'd got the stick and switched in the small magnet they were using to scramble the hard drive, I made a run for the window as if I'd just been trying to get out of the house all along. They never even noticed. Although they gave me a good beating for my trouble.”

  She ran her fingers lightly over the right side of her face, feeling the swollen area, and a few flecks of pain appeared in her eyes, eyes that never left his face. Mycroft didn't know what to say. Somehow, this girl had saved his job and completed his task, and she'd done it all with the little they'd taught her.

  The earlier words his brother had said came back to his mind. He had her loyalty, and as of now he knew she had his respect.

  “I think we should all get some rest and heal,” Mycroft said.

  “Some of Mrs Wintern's tea would be very welcome.” Sherlock smiled and Amelia nodded.

  “Yes, to Baker Street.”

  Chapter 10

  The midday sun shone in Mycroft's eyes as he looked out the car window. Daniels was taking him to Buckingham palace, where the butler would be waiting for him in the same room as a week ago.

  He'd just left Amelia and Sherlock in the living room at Baker Street filling Mrs Wintern in on their night's adventure. Amelia hadn't broken anything, but she'd sprained one wrist, both wrists were bloodied, and there were bruises and swellings on her face, thighs and torso. It would be painful for a few days but leave no lasting marks.

  The information about the royal family was tucked in his pocket, and Amelia was confident the terrorists hadn't got another copy in the house. No one could be sure, but it would be surprising for the royal family not to know if another copy was held somewhere by Mr Delra. It would have been leaked to the papers already.

  An agent of his had already been to the original informant and her brother to ensure they were silenced on the matter, but it was yet another worker for the palace who hadn't lived up to expectations. Mycroft found himself wondering if he was going to need to read the CV of every person who applied for a job. There seemed to be no other way to keep the family safe, and Sherlock was unlikely to want the task.

  Mycroft had also sent a team to round up the terrorists. All but two of them had been arrested and moved to a secure location for him to interrogate later. The remaining two were suspected to have left London and be on their way to Europe. Catching them would be difficult, given how far they'd already managed to get, but not impossible. It depended on the attitude of the royal family in response to the current situation. He'd overstepped their opinion of his role too much to do so again so soon.

  The same two men were awaiting him in the courtyard of the palace as had brought him there a week earlier, and they had similar expressions. Not everything about this meeting was going to go well.

  He frowned as they walked him to the same room, but forced his face into a more neutral expression when he saw the butler already sitting there with a steaming teapot. Tea was a positive sign.

  “Good morning, Mr Holmes. Tea?” the butler asked, and motioned for him to sit opposite. He nodded, knowing this meeting would be longer than the last.

  As he came closer to sit down, he saw the standard information folders and knew it would contain his report of the night's events. His assistant had typed it up already and filed it. Without waiting to be asked for it, Mycroft retrieved the data stick and placed it on top of the folder.

  “My recommendation is that this is looked at to see the sources of the information, and then both source and copy are destroyed,” Mycroft said.

  “I will pass it on to Her Majesty.” The butler finished pouring them both tea and sat back. “She wishes me to express her displeasure that you felt it necessary to interfere in this matter after she commanded you not to, despite your token of reparation.”

  Mycroft gave a brief fake smile. The token was the retrieved information, but he hadn't given it back to repair any loss of reputation. If they had the brains he did, they would know he'd lost none.

  “The royal family have been put at great risk.”

  “The risk is now at least over,” Mycroft interrupted, not able to sit there any longer without defending his decision.

  “They will decide when the risk is over. We only have a vague promise from a young woman you were with that there were no other copies, and it is hardly backed up by the word of the boy who so
ld it in the first place. We are in contact with our friend, Mr Delra, to ascertain the legitimacy of your claim.”

  Mycroft fought back the temptation to roll his eyes. They wouldn't get an honest answer from the puppet behind the scenes. A man like him would deny having another copy to melt back out of sight and be the mysterious benefactor behind another project years later. Whatever he said, it couldn't be trusted.

  “If Her Majesty is satisfied that her family is safe, we will allow this matter to slide and move on to other issues. As such, she has recommended that you don't interfere with the process to catch the remaining two members of the gang you encountered last night. It would be better if they made it home to report on the effectiveness of our agents.”

  “As you wish,” Mycroft replied. There was no point going over his recommendation again. They had it in writing on the table in front of him that he thought his brother should be tasked to go after the errant pair. Nothing he said would convince them otherwise. At least there was a chance Sherlock would decide to do it anyway. Having a bored younger brother had its merits.

  “We understand the immediate threat is now over, however?”

  “It is. For now, at least, London is safe.”

  “For that, you have our thanks.”

  Mycroft nodded his acknowledgement of the gratitude and picked up the teacup nearest him. The telling off was done. He still had his job, and they were pleased enough with his work that they didn't want the meeting to end badly. With every event considered, it was the expected result. They would always need him, even if they didn't always appreciate his genius.

  “There is also one last matter that has caused concern.”

  “And what is that?” Mycroft sipped his tea to cover any surprise on his part. They should be done.

  “This Miss Jones. She appears to have cropped up several times now in relation to recent events. We understand she seems to hold some appeal to yourself, or possibly your younger brother.”