The Hundred Year Wait Read online

While he was able to turn around he scanned the waters for the boat, but it was gone from view, lost in the darkness of the night. A second later he focused back on Amelia's face. The wideness had gone from her eyes but her teeth chattered as she bobbed with the waves.

  “We're almost there,” he said. She nodded and waited for him to encourage her to continue. When he reached for her hands again she shook her head.

  “I can swim for a bit. You're tired.”

  He took her hands anyway and put them back around his neck.

  “You'll need your strength for after.” Mycroft readied himself and carried on through the water. She didn't object any further but allowed him to keep her going.

  After stopping once more to rest, he managed to get them both to shore. The tide had almost fully come in so there was little mud to wade through and a pond the other side allowed both him and Amelia to wash off what little clung to their feet.

  He panted for breath and she fared little better, but he didn't allow them to rest more than a few minutes. Already her whole body shook and shivered in the wind. Stripped of so many layers and sodden from head to toe, he knew she would risk hypothermia. While he could withstand the cold and already knew he was safe, she was in as much danger as ever.

  “We need to get away from here. Come,” he said and took her arm to pull her to her feet again. She didn't complain but allowed him to lead her to the edge of a field and then right through it. She stumbled a few times, getting her skirts and feet caught up in the long stalks around her, but she kept walking and he kept up the pace. It was cruel to keep her moving so fast but he knew it would help keep her warm.

  In the far corner of the field Mycroft spotted a farm track and knew it was Amelia's best chance of survival.

  “Hurry,” he called back to her and sped up yet again. He expected her to finally complain but she didn't. Instead, the sound of her stumbling footfalls and chattering teeth followed in his wake. He didn't turn around and knew he'd appear uncaring towards her, but he had to do it.

  Along the dirt track was the occasional unavoidable embedded stone and he winced every now and then as one jabbed into the soles of his feet, but none were sharp enough to penetrate the socks.

  The minutes dragged by but the wind didn't let up over the flat fields and even he found his body shaking from the cold. Just as he considered stopping and giving Amelia a break he saw the lights of a house up ahead. He didn't say anything but kept going at the same pace. They would be warm and safe soon enough.

  Chapter 9

  By the time Mycroft had banged on the farmhouse door enough to be heard, Amelia had caught up with him. Her shaking had only got worse but he had nothing to offer her to take the chill off.

  He stopped slamming his fists into the front door as a light flicked on in the hallway.

  “What time do you call this?” a man yelled as he wrenched the door open. Seeing the two bedraggled figures stopped him in his tracks.

  “I need to use your phone.” Mycroft put his hand out to push the door further open but it didn't move, held shut by the house occupant. Amelia stepped up beside him, doing nothing to hide her shivering.

  “We were kidnapped and we had to swim to escape. Please, we need to call the police,” she looked at the man with big hope filled eyes. Within seconds the door was pulled open revealing a middle-aged man in a dressing gown. Both he and Mycroft motioned for her to enter first. She just switched her gaze to Mycroft, her chin quivering.

  “I can't. My feet...”

  He looked down and saw the bloody footprints leading up the pathway to where she stood now. As pity washed over him he reached out for her. She swayed towards him and before she could fall he swept her up into his arms. The coldness of her skin against his almost made him gasp.

  The guy led the way to his kitchen and pulled out a dining chair. Mycroft placed her down in it as gently as he could and before he'd got up the owner had a cordless home phone outstretched towards him.

  “She needs a blanket or a towel,” he said as he took the offered device and entered the number of the Commissioner. He answered after the second ring.

  “This is Myron Holmes...” Before he could continue the man in charge of the nation's police force interrupted him.

  “Good God, we've been looking all over for you.”

  “We were taken from the Thames Barrier.” He nodded his gratitude as their host returned to the kitchen with two extra large bath towels. He helped Amelia wrap herself in one before holding the other out to him. Not wanting to appear rude he took it and nodded his thanks.

  “We?” the Commissioner asked.

  “Yes, I've got an Amelia Jones with me. We're...” Mycroft put his hand over the mouth piece of the phone and looked at the owner. “Where are we?”

  “E End Road. CM0 7PN,” The guy said. Mycroft repeated the address. “Send your nearest officers, a doctor, and...

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I'm fine, but Miss Jones isn't. Also have my chauffeur bring my car up here as well as my emergency kit. He'll know what that means.” Mycroft tried not to get angry at the constant interruptions. The commissioner had never been a particularly patient man.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Finally, get someone out looking for an unlit yacht off the coast north of here. I'd assume with their speed and direction of travel that they are heading to Harwich, but they may stop and try to find us. Also there's some North Koreans in London somewhere. I recognised them from the suspected terrorists list. I'll have my brother look for them.”

  “Understood, sir. Anything else?”

  “No, thank you. Just get those done as soon as you can.”

  Mycroft hung up and then put the towel around his own shoulders. At the very least it covered his chest from view, something he'd never particularly liked showing off. He glanced at Amelia and saw her look away hastily. A tear tracked slowly down her right cheek and her chin quivered with the emotions she was fighting to restrain.

  By now he'd expected more fuss from her so the solitary tear came as a relief, assuming she could continue to hold herself together. He wouldn't have thought the restraint she currently showed possible if he wasn't already witnessing it.

  “She's going into shock. Can you make her a cup of tea with plenty of sugar. Not too hot.”

  The man nodded. He evidently had no idea what else to do for the pair of them. As soon as he scurried off to obey Mycroft's request, Mycroft called Sherlock to let his brother know where he was.

  It took several more rings for his brother to answer.

  “Sherlock,” he said before he thought about it and almost swore.

  “Mycroft, where have you been? I've had to command your little team of agents for the last few hours, and your chauffeur has been phoning me every five minutes to see if I've heard from you.”

  “We're all right. Thank you for your concern. It's going to be a few hours until I'm back in London. Can you leave my team to ensure the barriers are in working order and find some people for me?”

  “Of course. I assume you and Amelia ran into some difficulty with the North Koreans?”

  “Yes. There's three of them. They jumped us at the Thames Barrier. They're on the database and armed, so be careful. Let me know when they've been apprehended.”

  “As you wish, brother of mine.”

  Mycroft hung up again and this time he put the phone down on the side and went over to Amelia. She still kept her mouth clamped down over her emotions but no more tears had shown themselves and her eyes were less wide and watery. He was also relieved to see she no longer shivered. The farm kitchen was warm and dry.

  “Are you in pain?” he asked. She shook her head but didn't open her mouth to speak until the farmer came over with a large mug of tea for her. She took it in both hands and cradled it to her.

  “Thank you,” she said, barely above a whisper. Mycroft noticed the slight shake in her voice but doubted the guy had. He accepted the second cup the farmer had made and
sat down at the table beside her.

  “I'll go make myself decent, if you'll both be all right for a few minutes?”

  Mycroft nodded at the man's sense. Very soon his house would be inundated with police and hopefully a doctor to check Amelia over. While they were alone together Mycroft did just that, although he remained seated and she didn't notice. He started with her hands, noticing the blood had been washed off her fingernails and none of them looked to be worse off than a few chips here and there. All of them were firmly attached.

  His gaze then moved to Amelia's wrists. The sea water had washed them as well, but rather than cleaning them off, they were now swollen and red, especially where the ropes had rubbed her skin so badly she'd bled. He suspected she'd lied when she said she was in no pain.

  From his seat beside her he couldn't see the soles of her feet, but noticed no drops of blood on the floor. Her thin tights were ripped and he could see the smears of blood on the tattered heals. They would need cleaning and she would struggle to walk for a day or two, but he doubted it would be any worse.

  “What now?” she said as she put her empty mug down on the table. When he didn't respond she finally looked at him. Every feature was as calm as usual.

  “The police will be here soon and then you need medical attention,” he explained, assuming she hadn't heard the phone calls he'd made. Considering the blunder he'd made with his brother's name, he was pleased to find she'd not been paying attention.

  “After that, are we going back to London to try to stop them again?”

  “My driver will take us back, yes, unless you want to go home to Bath?”

  “No,” she replied before he'd even finished saying her home city's name. “I'd rather come to London. I can still help.”

  “You can barely walk.” Although he admired her determination he knew she couldn't be allowed to risk her life any more. He'd already exposed her too much.

  “I know, but I'd still like to do what I can to help, even if I have to do so from a chair.”

  “Let's start with getting back to London, shall we? By the time we get there, my brother may have already found the culprits and solved everything.” He gave her his usual smile. A part of him hoped his brother wasn't quite so efficient, while the rest of him hoped Sherlock was. Amelia had been through enough. Until he could be sure she wasn't going to break down, he had to ensure she was unexposed to more danger.

  He didn't have a chance to find out whether Amelia understood his reasons or not. The farmer came back downstairs with jeans and a short sleeved shirt on and less than a minute later the police showed up. Behind them came two paramedics. They homed in on Amelia right away, allowing Mycroft to talk in a low voice with the police and tell them the events they needed to know.

  The Commissioner had already passed on a small amount of information and with the other details Mycroft added, he convinced the police to give him and Amelia some space and just keep an eye on the area in case the Russians did manage to track them to the farmhouse. With that done, he could go back to Amelia.

  Already the paramedics had cleaned and assessed the damage to her feet. The younger, female paramedic was bandaging them while her older colleague washed and checked over the rope burns on Amelia's wrists. Amelia gave Mycroft a brief smile when he sat back down beside her.

  “There, all patched up. You shouldn't walk too much for a day or two and keep everything clean and dry. If anything starts to look infected go to your GP and get it checked out,” the woman said and gave Amelia a grin.

  “Thank you.” As soon as the paramedics were out the door, she flicked her gaze onto Mycroft. “How long will your car be?”

  “Half an hour, at most.”

  “Good, I'm a little tired now.”

  “You should have slept more last night. I do believe I ordered you to,” he said, teasing her a little. She looked down, as her cheeks flushed.

  “I tried, I really did.”

  “I'm not cross.”

  Now that the police and paramedics had left, the farmer hovered by the kitchen sink. Mycroft left his charge where she was to go over to him.

  “It's a long journey to get her home. Do you have a blanket you wouldn't mind parting with for a few days?”

  The farmer nodded and rushed off yet again. When he returned he had a patchwork woollen blanket in his hands.

  “Thank you. I'll see this is returned to you and you're suitably reimbursed for your help. I appreciate your cooperation with this... predicament.”

  Dismissing the man with a nod, Mycroft took the blanket over to Amelia and insisted on wrapping her in it. She tried to tell him she didn't need it but he ignored her anyway.

  “Do as you're told, Amelia,” he said, and looked her in the eyes.

  “As you command.”

  He sat down again, pleased to notice the sparkle in her eyes that accompanied her words. Emotionally she appeared to be recovering already. Satisfied that he'd done all he could and wouldn't be needed until his car arrived, Mycroft sat back and closed his eyes. He knew it would appear as if he was napping, but he wanted to go back in his memories and look again at the Thames Barrier area as well as the North Koreans who had ambushed them. Any extra information he could drag up from his memory could be useful.

  Chapter 10

  Amelia fought against the waves of sleep that threatened to roll over her. She felt very warm and snug, wrapped from head to bandaged feet in a blanket and towel. It was a stark contrast from the earlier cold.

  Beside her Myron sat and waited for his car to come fetch them both, and, still fidgeting in his own kitchen, the farmer tried to make himself busy, cleaning a speck here and there, and rearranging the counter-top utensils.

  This day had been the most eventful of her life but she tried not to think too much about it. While Myron was with her she felt safe and it made it easier to be calm. Throughout the whole abduction, and then in their escape, he had remained stable and constant. It had helped her keep herself going when she'd wanted to just curl up and pretend none of it was happening.

  She couldn't decide if the swim had been the worst part or the walk afterwards. While on the boat, she'd known as she was working herself free that no one appeared particularly interested in her and afterwards she'd been buzzed with enough adrenaline she'd functioned without thinking. It wasn't until she'd had to face the cold sea and the threat of nature that fear had found her.

  To keep herself going she'd told herself it would impress Myron. Every moment since she'd first been grabbed she'd kept her mind dwelling on what she could gain by being strong. The positive focus had made it easier to keep her emotions from overwhelming her. Although, shock had caught up with her when she'd realised it was over and she was safe again. The desire to cry and wail had welled up inside her so fiercely she'd struggled to contain it. Crying had its place, and she knew she would need to do so at some point soon, but now wasn't the time. She needed to keep quiet and keep focused until the terrorists were stopped.

  If she moved too suddenly pain shot through her feet and wrists, so she tried to stay still, but she'd never been much good at it. Sleep would be the best healer but her desire to know what was happening, and help where she could, kept her from succumbing to that idea.

  To while away the time she allowed herself to study Myron. So far he'd been very tolerant of her curiosity and interference but she knew his patience would have worn out had she not been the one to free them while on the boat.

  When he'd thought they'd missed something he'd assumed the information she'd provided had been wrong above everything else and she'd noticed his anger about having her with him that morning, so she knew he didn't trust her abilities yet. It helped that she'd studied his brother for almost a year but he hadn't really shown her any compassion until she was in the water and struggling to do as he asked. She could only put it down to her self-control and the help she'd rendered several minutes before.

  Amelia had expected the bond to be set right back at the
beginning when he'd seen the few tears she'd not contained but he'd ignored them and acted like he hadn't noticed. Her only fear now was that he would consider his life and work too dangerous for her. Sebastian had given her those sorts of excuses once, but she'd been persistent enough with him he'd eventually understood she would rather lead a more exciting life.

  It was about time she led a life as interesting as the ones she wrote about in her books, even if it meant she had to occasionally swim in the cold sea and walk what felt like miles with bare feet and little on. With any luck the events would help a relationship grow between her and Myron. She couldn't think of much in her conduct in the last twelve hours that could disappoint him.

  In the last few days she'd also decided it was time she moved on from her late husband. As much as she'd been devoted to him at the time she didn't want to be alone, and finally felt like she could stride out and face the world again. With this thought, her eyes were drawn to the wedding ring on her finger. If she'd had a pocket to put it in she'd have removed it right then, but she didn't want to lose it. Good memories were attached to it if nothing else.

  A knock on the farmhouse door startled her from her thoughts and instantly Myron stood up. Feeling a little like a spare cog she didn't move, but waited for one of the two men to find out who was there.

  Relief flooded through her when Daniels came into the kitchen and she could tell the feeling was echoed in the chauffeur. He evidently had a fondness for his employer. A fondness she knew she already shared. In his hands was a small case. Myron took it and disappeared into the downstairs toilet room. While they waited for him to come back the farmer offered Daniels a drink but the chauffeur declined. Amelia suspected he might have wanted to say yes but she knew Myron. He wouldn't appreciate being held up at all once he reappeared.

  Daniels came and checked on her instead, asking her a few simple questions. She gave him answers using as few words as she could and felt grateful when he took the hint and stopped asking her.

  “Right, time we went. Thank you for the hospitality and you have my apologies for being kept from your bed. We'll leave you now, and as I said earlier, you will be reimbursed,” Myron said as soon as he was back in the kitchen. Already he looked back to his normal self, dressed in a smart suit, with his polished shoes and perfectly knotted tie.