The Invisible Amateur Page 8

  “And if she does?”

  “While we have made use of your family for several generations and recognise that, for it to continue, acquiring a wife is necessary, we would ask that you ensure any additions to your family are adequately protected and trained for the role they are to fulfil.”

  “You're making a big assumption.” Mycroft smiled his usual fake smile. Not even Sherlock told him how to handle his own private life.

  “Are we? You chose to protect her over Her Majesty and the rest of the royal family. She must be very important to your family.”

  Mycroft gave the briefest of nods but didn't even add a smile to the look. He wanted this part of the conversation over as soon as possible.

  “Then see to it she gets training or is kept out of the affairs and safe at home. We wouldn't want the ties between our two families dissolving over one errant member, now, would we?”

  “Of course not. I'm sure adequate measures can be arranged.”

  “Good. Then here is to the continued survival and success of our great nation and its chief families.” The butler raised his cup and Mycroft copied the motion.

  “To our success.”

  As soon as it was polite to do so, Mycroft excused himself and made his way back to his car and the familiarity of his own chauffeur.

  “Home, sir?” Daniels asked when they were both sat in their usual seats.

  “No, the Diogenes Club. I have some thinking to do.”

  “Right you are, sir.”

  Every minute of the half-an-hour journey, Mycroft allowed himself to stew in the anger he felt. London might well be safe, as well as Amelia and the royal family, but he had been given little of the credit, and the job felt incomplete.

  Mr Delra was still an unknown force, hiding in the shadows and able to show himself at a later date. Mycroft knew it wouldn't be the last time he or his younger brother encountered the man, either. Men like Mr Delra didn't stay friends with royal families for long without doing something to upset them.

  Having terrorists escape the United Kingdom also did nothing to benefit them. It would show the exact opposite of the image the butler suggested. Instead of looking effective, they would look sloppy. Two men had slipped through the net, and that meant their net had holes.

  And finally there was Amelia. The butler had hinted that Mycroft's priorities were ill-placed before, when acting to protect Sherlock in the past, but he'd heard what hadn't been said concerning Amelia.

  They wanted her out of the way and shut up in one of the Holmes residences to organise dinners and clean their clothes. On top of that, they assumed because she was female that one of the two brothers must wish to wed her and bed her. Both points were offensive for several reasons. Mycroft and Sherlock were quick to admit that most women were weaker and inferior in mind due to their emotions, but that didn't mean they should be used for only one thing and kept at the whim of the men in their lives. It also didn't entail that either of them would wish to be so sentimental as to marry someone for compassionate reasons, either. On Amelia's behalf, and for the very few women who'd impressed him before her, he was angered by the insinuations.

  With all these annoyed thoughts, Mycroft walked into the Diogenes Club and made his way to his usual room. Once settled behind his desk, he found himself reminded of Amelia's presence there. He pushed it from his mind for the moment, to focus on other matters. He could decide what to do with her once he'd sorted out Mr Delra, and the rest of the business with him.

  Mycroft had one more retired agent who owed him a favour and would happily keep an eye on Mr Delra for him in exchange for some holiday time. The agent had often preferred to be stationed in warm countries, and Mr Delra seemed to like the same sort of climate.

  The next order of business was the two escaping terrorists. Mycroft couldn't let them leave without at least trying to catch them, but he couldn't use government resources for that either. He would need to borrow his brother, but before he could write a note in their familiar code, his extra phone buzzed to let him know it had received a message.

  Ever since Amelia's incident with a stalker, he had kept it on him at all times rather than in the desk drawer in his library. Wondering what on earth she could want, he pulled the phone from his pocket.

  How did the meeting go? Are they knighting you for being a hero?

  He snorted at her curiosity intermingled with flattery before tapping out a reply.

  No. I had my knuckles rapped for misbehaving. Shouldn't you be resting?

  Not wanting to disturb his fellow club members, Mycroft tucked the phone deep in a pocket so when she replied the buzz would only disturb him. In the meantime, he sipped more tea and thought about the best way to persuade Sherlock to help him with this last part of the situation. Once more, Amelia's messages disturbed him before he could act.

  Your brother is restless, which makes it rather hard to nap. Do you need any more help?

  Relief spread through Mycroft as she solved his problem for him.

  No. I'm trying to obey my orders and not pursue the two Russians who got away. Perhaps you should send my brother out on an errand?

  Mycroft pushed the pen and paper away from himself after sending this message. If Amelia didn't understand his meaning, she would read it out to Sherlock and his younger brother would know what it meant. A minute later, another vibrating feeling came from his pocket and caused him to reach for the phone again.

  Wonderful. Now I can rest. Your brother is suitably occupied.

  As he put the phone back in his pocket, he exhaled in relief. For the second time in less than a day, Amelia had helped him out of a difficult situation with her own unique style of business.

  She was a very distinct woman. Not afraid of her emotions, but not ruled by them either. At least for the most part. She'd shown some weakness when scared, but only in her judgement to run to him at all costs. But as Sherlock had pointed out, she'd shown him great loyalty. More so than even his younger brother did, and something about that pleased him more than he'd expected it to. Loyalty was not easily bought these days.

  If Sherlock had retrieved that information, he wouldn't have been assured to get it back, but she'd handed it over to him at the first opportunity and faced a considerable amount of pain to get it. It showed bravery and courage on top of a reasonable amount of skill.

  The pain she'd endured was one of Mycroft's sticking points. Four times now a doctor had tended to her wounds because of something related to him. The first and the most recent time, at the hands of the Russians, were due to his lack of care, and he felt uncomfortable about it. Thankfully, neither of those occasions had led to scarring, but one other had.

  The scar through her eyebrow was a constant reminder that he'd ignored her when she'd turned up in the Diogenes Club. Instead of trusting her judgement, he'd thrown her out that day, and it had resulted in her going through yet another situation where she was left hurt and emotionally vulnerable.

  Of the four occasions, only her stalker hurting her had been entirely unrelated to him, and he'd saved her from far worse by helping his brother get to her. It mitigated a little of his guilt towards her, but the royal family were right about one thing. He needed to do a better job of keeping her safe if she was going to be a part of his future.

  If he could, he'd have given her the healing ability that Sherlock and he shared, but they'd never been able to replicate it for others, and neither knew where it had come from. One day a gene within the brothers had activated, and they found themselves able to heal and live longer. By nature of being involved with them, Amelia would be the most likely to be hurt. She was the weakest, the least skilled, and she couldn't heal as fast. If he taught her more, she would need to understand it would lead to more pain.

  Mycroft didn't need to ask Amelia to know what she wanted. In going to the bathroom and attacking the Korean she'd made it clear. Pain didn't bother her if it was part of the task and necessary to achieve the goal set before her. She knew when s
he'd decided to retrieve the information for him that it would be dangerous, and still done it anyway.

  That meant the decision came down to how he felt. He needed to decide if he wanted Amelia in his future or not. As he thought about the last week, he rubbed his hand across his chin. She'd gained his respect, and when he pictured her face as she handed over the data stick, he knew he liked her. There had been no boast in her eyes. Just a gentle confidence and appreciation for getting the task complete, along with a small amount of relief.

  It only took him a few more seconds to fix on what he wanted to do. He reached into his pocket one final time and tapped out a message to her.

  Tea, 4pm. Same place as last time.

  With that sent, he got to work arranging her training for the future. He had three hours before their meeting, and plenty to organise.

  Epilogue

  As Amelia hurried down from her hotel room into the reception area, she hoped she wasn't late. It had taken her most of the afternoon to wash, dress and make herself presentable with all the cuts and bruises she had.

  The bruises and swollen areas of her face were covered up as best as she could manage with make-up, and she wore her longer set of fingerless gloves to cover the awful scabs around her wrists. Myron would still notice she was hurt, but few others would. It was a relief the winter gave her an excuse to cover up so much.

  Before she could go through to the terrace she noticed a familiar figure come striding through the hotel entrance. She smiled as he nodded his acknowledgement of her, and they walked through to the terrace café together.

  As soon as he'd ordered drinks for the both of them, he fixed his eyes on her. She saw him concentrate on the area around her left eye.

  “It barely hurts now,” she said, as much to break the silence as to answer the query in his look.

  “Good. Are you ready to attempt this lesson again?”

  She smiled and nodded; already her eyes had been tempted to flick towards the people on the nearby green and give herself an extra edge on describing them, but she knew he would get the lesson underway swiftly.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned her head and her eyes found an elderly woman and child near the duck pond. The child had the same dimple in her chin as the woman, but her hair was too grey and her skin too wrinkled to be the mother of such a young girl. It was a grandparent with her granddaughter, but Myron would expect her to see way more than that. She studied them for a minute or two more.

  “There, grandmother and granddaughter. They come here often. The man with the small stand knows them, but they're not here for a good reason today. I think someone died and she's taking the child out to occupy her.”

  “Who died?” Myron asked.

  “The father,” she said after pausing a moment.

  “Why?”

  “It's not the mother. The young girl wouldn't have snacks in her little backpack if the mother was dead.”

  “Correct. Another,” Myron commanded, his face remaining impassive.

  She surveyed the area again and picked out a lone male dressed in denim jeans and jacket. He had a digital camera fixed to his face and was pointing it at something on a tree near the edge of the park. He'd been like that several minutes before she could gather enough information about him.

  “Single guy, there. Amateur photographer. Is some sort of programmer as a day job. Here on holiday and in his low thirties.”

  “Explain, why?”

  “Well, amateur photographer because he's spent over two minutes fiddling with settings on the camera for just one shot, but it's not an expensive camera. If he wanted to be paid, he'd have something better. Single because no woman would let her boyfriend wear those two colours together, and programmer because of the glasses. Low thirties is a guess based on his haircut.”

  Myron nodded.

  “Correct again, although you missed that he was staying with his sister.”

  “Really?”

  “He also has food a woman packed for him.”

  Amelia sighed. She had been so close. Before she could pick out another target Myron's phone went off.

  “It's my brother,” he said a moment later.

  “Answer it, then. I need to use the bathroom anyway.” She smiled and left the table, trying not to listen as she walked towards the café toilets. It would be an update on the remaining elements of the terrorist threat, and she was sure Sebastian would tell her what she missed if it was anything of interest.

  When she came back Myron was still on the phone, and so intent on the conversation that he didn't notice her approaching from behind.

  “No, Sherlock, come back to London. You couldn't have done anything else, and we don't want anyone learning that it hasn't hurt you.”

  Amelia hung back for a moment, her eyes going wide and her pulse beginning to race. Myron had just called someone Sherlock, and it definitely sounded like it was his younger brother. Afraid he would notice her, she waited for a few seconds and then hurried forward, clipping her boots on the leg of a table so he'd notice her and not realise she'd heard anything.

  “All right, brother of mine. I'll see you at Baker Street later.” Myron hung up, and she smiled at him and sat down, pushing the implications of what she'd just heard from her mind. She couldn't dwell on the man in front of her being well over a hundred years old. It would paralyse her mind, and she couldn't let him see she suspected something like that.

  “Did he succeed?” she asked when neither of them spoke.

  “Almost. He's apprehended one, but the other got away. Most importantly, he's unharmed and on his way back home.”

  “Does that mean you have to rush off?”

  “No. He will be several hours, and we haven't finished our lesson.”

  She nodded and spent another fifteen minutes telling him what she saw in the people around them. On only two more occasions did she miss something that Myron pointed out to her.

  “Well done,” he said when she finished telling him the waiter's family history. “You've improved.”

  “I have a good teacher,” she said and gave him a lopsided grin. He didn't respond but stared at her for a moment. The hint of a frown passed across his face before it went back to the usual impassive look.

  “What?” she asked. Hoping he hadn't seen something in her that might give away the emotions coursing through her. Despite her best intentions, she was struggling not to think about him possibly being Mycroft Holmes, a man who should have died long ago, let alone look so young.

  “Your hair is up. Down is better. Like the last time we were here,” he said a few seconds later.

  “You think so?” She raised her eyebrows and tried not to look even more shocked. He nodded. “Then down it is.”

  She lifted her fingers to pull out the pins holding her bun in place. Less than five seconds later her hair was cascading around her shoulders the way it had the first time she'd walked out onto the terrace. Myron blinked rapidly at her.

  “It wasn't a command.”

  “I know, but I'm getting a second date; the least I can do is make a little effort for you.” She gave him her most mischievous look to let him know she was teasing, even if she hoped her words would be true.

  “This isn't a date.”

  “Maybe not, but this is probably the closest thing to a date a woman has ever managed to get with you.” Amelia looked up at him through her eyelashes and grinned. A few seconds later a smile flickered across his face, the first genuine one she'd ever seen him make.

  ~

  Thank you for reading The Invisible Amateur. The sequel, The Female Charm, will be available on February 13th 2016. You might also like to try my fantasy works beginning with a free short, Wandering to Belong.

  If you would like to subscribe to the new release email to be notified of the next publication by Jess Mountifield (or Amelia Price) you can do so here.

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ve enjoyed the book you just read and would like to let the author know you can email her via books@jessmountifield.co.uk or alternatively leave a review at your place of purchase.

  Books by Jess Mountifield

  Already published

  Historical Adventure:

  With Proud Humility (#1 in the Hearts of the Seas series)

  Chains of Freedom (#4 in the Hearts of the Seas series)

  Fantasy (Tales of Ethanar):

  Wandering to Belong (Tale 1)

  Innocent Hearts (Tale 2 & 3)

  For Such a Time as This (Tale 4)

  A Fire's Sacrifice (Tale 5)

  The Hope of Winter (A short story in the anthology 'Flights of Fantasy' - Tale 6.05)

  Sci-Fi:

  Sherdan's Prophecy (#1 in the Sherdan series)

  Sherdan's Legacy (#2 in the Sherdan series)

  Sherdan's Country (#3 in the Sherdan series)

  Sherdan's Road (A short story in the anthology 'The End of the Road')

  The Slave Who'd Never Been Kissed (A novella in the anthology 'The Kiss')

  Find purchase links here

  Coming soon

  Historical Adventure:

  Victorious Ruin (#2 in the Hearts of the Seas series)

  Fantasy (Tales of Ethanar):

  The Fire of Winter (#1 in the Winter series, Tale 6.1)

  The Tales of Ethanar anthology - containing:

  The Tales of Ethanar 1-6.05

  A Brief History of Ethanar

  Maps of Ethanar

  A Note on Dragons

  A Note on the Humanoid Races of Ethanar