The Hundred Year Wait

by Amelia Price

  All she could do was keep writing, keep visiting his brother, and hope he appeared again. She supposed if a lot of time passed and she never got any further with Myron she could always reconsider Sebastian, but she knew that was unlikely to happen. Now that she'd decided she preferred Myron, seeing the younger brother would be a reminder that she hadn't captured the attention of the better sibling.

  Amelia knew sleep wasn't going to return and gave up trying to doze off again. With a sigh she sat up. Instantly her eyes were drawn to the dressing table on the opposite wall. Propped up against the mirror's corner was a letter with her name on it. She blinked a few times, puzzled. The last thing she'd done before getting into bed was sit on the stool and undo her braided hair. Her tired expression had attracted her attention in the mirror and if the letter had been there she'd have noticed.

  A shiver ran down her spine as she realised someone had been in her room while she slept and it galvanised her to get up and go over to it.

  After inspecting the white envelope she picked it up and turned it over. As soon as her eyes took in the shape embedded in the wax seal a grin spread across her face and her previous concern melted from her. She'd seen the same design on a ring Sebastian always wore and a coat of arms was usually tied to the family name. One of the brothers had sent her a letter and she knew Sebastian would have no reason to.

  She almost ripped the envelope off in her excitement before she stopped herself to think first. If Myron had decided to teach her, she needed to be careful not to miss important details. She sniffed the envelope but no particular scent leapt out at her. Wherever Myron kept his stationery it didn't smell of anything strong. Her name was written in a reasonable sized cursive script and looked far more elegant than anything she could manage, but it could have been illegible and she'd have still been pleased with it. It was a letter and it was from the right person, or at least it was logical to assume Myron wrote it.

  Unable to contain herself any longer, she broke the wax seal and pulled the flap open. Inside was a sheet of letter paper entirely covered in numbers. There was nothing in the normal alphabet to let her know who it was from for sure and no hints on translating it. She ran her eyes over the sets of single and paired numbers, her brain too overwhelmed by her emotions to begin thinking about anything beyond the thrill of getting her way.

  Five minutes passed her by and still she sat in her overly large t-shirt staring at the numbers cradled in her hands like the paper might fall apart if she moved even a fraction of an amount. Eventually she put it down and tore herself away long enough to get dressed and pack up the few scattered belongings into her small suitcase.

  Cracking the letter's code would require thought and time and she would find neither easy whilst sitting half naked and hungry in the hotel room she needed to check out of before ten. As soon as she was decent and ready to leave she grabbed the letter, her notebook and pencil, and made her way down to the dining hall. She could solve it while eating breakfast, surrounded by the noisy mass of other guests. Thinking always came easier when there wasn't silence to make her feel uneasy.

  With a cooked breakfast to sooth her rumbling stomach she sat down and pulled the letter back out. She needed a starting point. Somewhere to begin trying to work out what the numbers meant. It wasn't the standard 1-26 of a basic numerical substitution as 44 appeared to be the highest number but that didn't mean it wasn't substitution. It looked like it was ordered into sets of numbers and long enough to be a full message, so she decided it was a good assumption to make. With no starting letter to substitute for a number, she chose to make a tally of the frequency each number popped up. She remembered from school that E was the most common letter followed closely by A and S. With such a long letter the tally should be clear enough that trying those three would help.

  Half an hour later she'd eaten as much as she could without bursting and had a completed tally of the numbers. 37 appeared one hundred and twenty six times throughout the letter. This was considerably more than any other so she decided to begin her translation assuming it was the letter E. She had also noticed that every paragraph ended with a 25 and wondered if this might be the dot at the end of a sentence. Until she'd worked out a few words she couldn't be sure, however.

  Putting in the letter she already thought she'd sussed out was delayed by her need to check out of the hotel. She noticed it was already almost nine and an hour wasn't likely to be long enough to figure out the rest.

  After stuffing the letter back in her pocket she took her belongings to her room, grabbed the already packed suitcase and transferred the letter and notebook to her handbag. With that done she made her way back to the lobby to give her key-card back and pay her final bill.

  Once outside she considered getting a taxi to see Sebastian and getting his help to solve the letter but her own sense of pride stopped her. Instead she made her way to a café she wrote in when in London, and not otherwise engaged.

  She was early enough that she had her pick of tables so she sat at one, tucked up in a corner where no one would bother her, and ordered a hot chocolate.

  Before her drink could arrive she pulled the letter and her tally of the numbers back out. Using pencil and pressing lightly, she marked in all the letters she suspected so far and then looked at the letter as a whole again. None of them looked out of place and it gave her a couple of two letter words that ended in E. Most begun with a 34, but alone it wasn't enough to help her put in another letter.

  As her drink arrived she decided to go back to her tally and work out some more letters from the more frequent numbers. 2, 3, 8, 33, and 41 all occurred a similar number of times and significantly more than most others. She also noticed that 33 and 41 were both vowels if she put the numbers in order from A to I, with 37 matching up with the E.

  Fairly pleased with her logic, but unsure enough to check all the same, she glanced through the letter, trying to find a word or two where putting in A or I would give her a word so obviously right it couldn't be wrong. She soon found that the only single letter words that appeared were these numbers and therefore could only be those letters. Not noticing it sooner made her angry at herself but it gave her the confidence she needed to write them into her translation along with all the letters in between.

  It took her quite some time, but once she was done she had several whole words and many partial ones. It also seemed logical to her to continue going through the numbers until the highest, moving along the alphabet, considering so far they'd been in order. 44 was the highest number that appeared so when she reached it she stopped and read what she had so far.

  g 3 3 d 1 3 6 2 i 2 g 1 i 7 7 j 3 2 e 7 26

  i h a 10 e d e c i d e d 8 h a 8 7 e 8 8 i 2 g 13 3 9 c h a l l e 2 g e 7 1 a 13 4 6 3 10 i d e e 2 3 9 g h a 1 9 7 e 1 e 2 8 8 3 b e...

  The first line was obviously the start of a letter, and she was pretty sure that it included punctuation and her name. If she continued down through the alphabet then the first word was good and the 10 became a V. Excitement built up within her as she realised she'd almost translated the entire thing and she got to work, filling in the rest of the alphabet from 1-14.

  With those done the letter was almost complete and she could fill in the punctuation as well, guessing that 28 became a '–' the few times it occurred. It also made sense that the rest of the numbers were substituting other numbers, giving her a numbered list of instructions to follow.

  After filling in the final few parts, she sat back and admired her handiwork. A letter that could only be from Myron.

  Good morning Miss Jones,

  I have decided that setting you challenges may provide enough amusement to be worth my effort, but there are several rules I will insist upon. Break any of them, at any point, and our little game will cease along with all communication.

  1 – You're not to tell anyone anything about our arrangement. This includes taking all precautions necessary to ensure no one else finds any communication.

  2 – You're not to
receive help solving any task. This is a test of your cleverness alone.

  3 – You should obey any instructions as soon as possible where this doesn't conflict with rule 1.

  4 – Fail a task and our arrangement will cease along with all communication.

  5 – Refusal to do as instructed will be seen as a termination of our agreement.

  6 – I reserve the right to cease this at any point without explanation.

  7 – All messages will be placed in envelopes and sealed with wax. You're responsible for acquiring the necessary stationery.

  8 – My name, or any other information that could lead to me being identified, is not to be used in any correspondence.

  If you still wish to proceed, reply using the same code by leaving your message in your hotel room or in your pocket while travelling, marked with 1r on the envelope and adequately sealed.

  Regards, your tutor.

  A grin spread across her face despite the strictness of Myron's rules. She'd translated the first message, although she suspected later ones would be significantly harder.

  Holding the letter in her hands, she sat back and read through it several times, deciding to commit the rules to memory. She also felt pleased she'd not gone running to Sebastian for help. If she had, all her chances of learning from Myron would have been dashed before she'd begun.

  The smile never left her face as she turned to her notebook and wrote out the uncoded reply she wanted to make.

  Good Morning Mr Tutor,

  I very much wish to proceed and am happy to abide by your rules, although 6 bothers me slightly. Could I ask for a slight amendment? I'd appreciate a final message of some kind, letting me know that our arrangement is over. It would stop me from worrying that a letter had gone astray which I should have found, and, if a letter did go missing, I would know for sure to keep looking for it or inform you that someone else might have it. Of course I'd also appreciate knowing any reasons for stopping as well, but I understand you may not wish to give me those details.

  I look forward to my next task.

  Regards, your student.

  She bit her lip as she pondered over what she'd written before tweaking a few words here and there and adding in the punctuation she thought would be correct. With that done she wrote the coded version on a new sheet, taking care to get it exactly right.

  After ordering another drink, she checked it through, tore the page out and folded it.

  “Hmmm,” she said as she realised she needed an envelope and wax to obey her instructions. She glanced at her pocket watch and frowned as she realised she only had a few minutes to spare before she ought to make her way across the London underground and get her train to Bath. Her instructions were to leave the letter in her hotel room or pocket while travelling so Amelia didn't feel comfortable waiting until she got home to find an envelope and wax.

  While she was trying to think of a place she could get the required stationery on the way she noticed an unlit candle sat on her table. She looked for the nearest waitress and caught the young woman's eye.

  “I don't suppose you could light the candle for me? I need some liquid wax for something I'm making,” she said and gave her best hopeful expression. If the waitress thought the request odd she didn't say so but hurried off and came back with a lighter. A few seconds later the candle was burning merrily on her table and she was alone again.

  Using a ripped out sheet of blank paper from her unlined, ideas book, Amelia folded it around her letter so the corners all met in the middle at the back. By this point there was a pool of melted wax in the candle, so she tipped it up sideways and let it drip over the edges, sealing the paper shut. She had no idea if normal wax would be easy to get off for Myron but it was the best she could do given the circumstances.

  Before the wax could dry she used a pencil to mark an A and then gathered the rest of her stuff in her bag. With all but her pen stowed away she blew on the wax and tested it with her finger. It remained solid and unyielding so she turned over the makeshift envelope, marked it with '1r' as she'd been instructed and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. She had no idea how he would find it but she wasn't going to do anything but follow his instructions.

  With that done she shouldered her bag and hurried to the nearest underground station. As she got to the platform the rounded carriage pulled up and she hopped through the open door. Very few people shared the immediate area with her, which was just the way she liked the underground.

  After reaching into her pocket to check her letter was still there she sat in the middle of a row of empty seats and waited. It struck her as odd that Myron would want her to keep it on her, but she hoped that meant he would be fetching the letter himself. Any opportunity to see him again would be welcome, but no one else entered her carriage at any of the three stops before her destination.

  Although there were no delays, she only arrived at Paddington with ten minutes to find the platform for her train and get on it. This station was significantly busier and she rushed through the crowds, her eyes scanning all the signs to help her find her way.

  She heaved a sigh of relief as she found her allocated seat and settled into it. As soon as she had arranged her bags and leant back, her mind returned to thoughts of Myron and his challenge. She hoped he'd come collect the reply himself, but it seemed unlikely now she was on the train to Bath.

  Amelia slipped her hand into her pocket again, intending to pull the letter out and look at it one last time, but found nothing.

  She frowned and wiggled her fingers, wanting to make sure it wasn't there. Still nothing. Unconvinced, she pulled the edge of her jacket in front of her and looked down into the pocket. The inside lining stared back at her. The letter was gone.

  The next breath caught in her throat as she tried to remember back and figure out if it could have fallen along the way, but she knew it had been nestled deep in the material and nothing could have dislodged it. Someone had taken it from her as she moved between the underground and the main Paddington station, but whoever had done it had been an expert pickpocket. She hadn't felt a thing.

  She hoped it had been Myron or someone he knew who had taken it from her, but just in case she checked her phone and purse were still in place. A pickpocket was unlikely to take a letter and not something valuable. Once she'd assured herself that all her other belongings were safe she sat back in the seat again.

  As the train pulled out of the station she suppressed a shiver. Not only had the first letter appeared in her hotel room while she slept but now her reply had been taken from her own pocket as she walked. The power Myron wielded and the lengths he was prepared to go to were greater than she'd expected. She could only assume Myron himself had performed both acts and that her lessons were about to begin. But for the first time she wondered if she'd found a man too intelligent for her.

  Chapter 5

  A sigh of relief escaped Mycroft's lips as he settled back into the familiar seat in his car, Amelia's reply nestled in his breast pocket.

  As soon as his alarm had woken him that morning he'd headed back to the hotel and snuck back inside. He'd kept out of the way and watched Amelia as she ate her breakfast and began her translation of the letter. He'd even sat in the same cafe as her and gone unnoticed while she tried to crack his code.

  Although he'd not enjoyed the interaction with people to get to that point, the look of glee on her face when she'd worked out what the letter said had been enjoyable. And her improvisation with the stationery had even made him smile. At the very least, he could be confident she would follow his orders as precisely as possible. If her intelligence matched up with her desire to cooperate, their arrangement might last longer than his initial expectations.

  He'd followed her from the cafe into the underground station, changing his appearance as he went: adding a fake moustache, a hat and pulling on a jacket he slipped off a luggage bag while someone was buying tickets. By the time he was on the same tube train as her he looked different enough he co
uld approach her, but the carriages weren't busy enough for him to make his move.

  Instead he'd had to wait until they were at Paddington and pass her by while she was reading the arrivals board. She never even noticed as he plucked the reply from her jacket pocket. His skills were undiminished. Of everything he'd done to pull off his game with her it was his favourite part so far.

  Despite that, he was glad to be back in his own car and heading for home. Not only was he tired and wishing to be alone but he needed to be able to monitor the events of the day. If the information in the coded message was right, something was meant to happen today.

  As soon as he was back at his house, Mycroft thanked his driver and headed for his study. Once there, he pulled out the reply and ripped open the improvised envelope. He didn't even need to write in the letters to know what it said. The code was in his memory well enough that he could read it, if a little slower than normal.

  His first reaction to her request was to say no but he sat back and thought for a few seconds. It wasn't an unreasonable request and she had provided a sound reason. The only real objection was her expectation of an explanation. No matter what happened he wouldn't give her any more than the basic information.

  Mycroft checked his computer for information on the day but his assistant hadn't sent him anything yet, so he let his mind wander back to Amelia and how he wished to proceed. He couldn't follow her and steal the letters from her pocket each time he expected a reply. Neither could he journey to her home in Bath. After a few more seconds of thought he realised he needed to make a bigger commitment than just a few letters. To ensure privacy he needed to give her a way to communicate with him that didn't involve paper or anyone else.

  Before he could stop himself he tapped the button that summoned his staff.