by Amelia Price
While she was waiting for the toast to pop, she fetched a small vase, filled it with water and placed her solitary rose inside. It looked a little wilted around the edges, but considering how well travelled it was she knew it was doing well. Even if it didn't recover, it brought a smile to her face to know it was from Myron after all.
A little after ten, Amelia was removing her corset and easing the aches out of her legs. By half past, she was curled up under her thick duvet in her comfiest big t-shirt. Ignoring the book on the night stand, she flicked the reading lamp out and plunged herself into darkness.
Immediately, her mind woke up, and she realised Myron hadn't replied to let her know what had happened with the reporter. For the next few seconds she deliberated over getting up to fetch the phone, but she realised it was still in her handbag on the coffee table. As her body warmed up the bed, she grew less and less inclined to get out, and her mind finally gave in to the tiredness she felt.
Just as her mind was wandering into dreams of Mycroft, the immortal Holmes brother, interrogating her over knowing his secret, the sound of a door clacking shut wrenched her back into an awake state. Her heart began to pound as her eyes flew open.
She saw the clock first, reading 23:03 in its crisp red lines. For a few seconds, she listened for any more sounds, not completely sure if she'd heard her own door shutting or just imagined it to wake herself up from the nightmare threatening to happen.
When she realised she was wide awake, Amelia chucked back the covers and got up. On the way to her bedroom door, she pulled out one of the two knives Myron had sent her from its holster clipped to the corset she'd been wearing that day.
Feeling a little safer with a weapon she'd been trained to use nestled in her hand, she opened the bedroom door and padded silently through to the living room. Her handbag still sat on the coffee table, exactly where she'd left it, but her back door stood slightly ajar, blowing back and forth in a slight breeze. Someone had been in her house.
For several minutes, Amelia stood where she was, listening for any sign that whoever had come in might still be there, but the only sound was the pounding of her own blood as her heart raced in her chest. By the time she had summoned up the courage to move, she was shivering in the cold night air that had been let into the room.
She crept over to the back door and closed it as quietly as she could, not locking it in case an intruder was still in her house. It made no sense to lock someone dangerous in with her when they were likely to want to escape.
As she did, she noticed there was no sign of a break-in. Whoever had got inside had picked the lock. Or worse, used a key. She clutched the knife tighter before reminding herself not to panic. With all the training she'd had, she ought to be able to handle this.
Standing by the back door, Amelia took several deep breaths, getting her heart rate back under control and surveying the room as best she could in the darkened state. From where she stood, she couldn't see anything missing or out of place.
One step at a time, she made her way around the open-plan living room and kitchen, running her eyes over everything of value and the drawers and cupboards. Nothing was gone or open.
When she'd completed the living area, she went back down the hall to her bedroom. She'd left the door wide open and could see that the room was exactly the same. Given that she'd been sleeping in there, she didn't worry about checking it and moved on to the spare room. She kept that door shut, which was exactly how she found it now.
Taking another deep breath, she turned the handle and pushed the door open. The tucked-away sofa-bed stood where it always did, and her desk was equally neat in the opposite corner. Not even her computer had been touched. She moved on, leaving that door wide open as well.
As she passed the airing cupboard, Amelia paused. Although she doubted anyone would be hiding in there, she knew if she didn't check she'd not be able to sleep. Steeling her nerves once more, she opened that door as well. Once again, she exhaled as she found nothing out of place.
That left her with one more room. The bathroom. It was also the farthest room from the back door. Despite finding everything untouched so far, standing outside this final room was the most frightening. If the intruder was still inside her house, then he was in here.
She bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and pulled the final handle down. Even once she'd managed to get that far she continued to hold it, the door still shut, for several long seconds.
With her hand shaking, she gently gave the door a push. It swung open, revealing the interior of the bathroom bit by bit. As soon as she could see the whole area, she let out a nervous laugh. She was such a moron sometimes. There was no one there, and it didn't look like there had been anyone since she'd last used it.
Now that any immediate threat was over, Amelia went back to the living room and flicked the light on. She blinked rapidly while her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, and then she scanned over the contents again to check nothing was gone.
Once more, she glanced over all the rooms and then she checked her jewellery box on the dresser in her bedroom on the slight chance whoever had come in had crept in there while she slept, but all her valuables were still in place.
Confused, she returned to her living room and sat down on the sofa to think. Given that she'd found her back door ajar, she knew someone must have come in, but there was no sign she could see that anyone had been there but her. She could call the police and get them to look over the house, but with nothing taken they were unlikely to think there was a serious crime to investigate. It would be more likely that they'd think she'd left the door open herself, as other people might have.
No, the police wouldn't be of any use. However, Myron might. The second she thought of the elder Holmes brother she wondered if it had actually been a man of his, if not the man himself, and shot up to go to her handbag. She emptied the contents out onto the coffee table, sending her favourite nail varnish bottle, her lipstick, keys and the phone he'd given her flying across the surface.
“Oops,” she said aloud to the empty room. After a quick glance she realised nothing had been left there either and hastily shoved everything but the phone back inside. She could reorganise it in the morning. There was nothing new there, but she picked up her phone and considered messaging him.
Several times she typed out a text but each time she deleted it again. After staring at the blank screen for several seconds she put the phone away. Already she knew what Myron would say. He'd tell her to suck it up and get on with it. Fear wasn't something she could let get the better of her.
It took her only a minute to come up with her own plan of action. Until morning, there was little she could do, so she picked up one of her dining chairs and wedged it underneath the back door handle. The following day she'd fit a bolt on the door, but until then, if someone wanted to get into her house, they'd wake her up doing it.
Knowing she had an extra barrier of defence, she took her small blade along with her phone back to her bedroom with her. She then propped another chair under the handle of that door. An extra layer of obstacles never hurt.
Despite the precautions, Amelia felt wide awake once she was curled up under her duvet again. More than once, an errant sound made her open her eyes, but nothing of importance happened, and eventually her own tiredness conquered the lingering fear.
Chapter 8
Another email made the laptop bing and disturbed Mycroft from his reading. In the last half hour, he'd put together the final pieces of his negotiating material with Kendel. As Mycroft opened the tab with his emails on, he noticed his younger brother had finally chipped in on the case as well.
Found some twitter pictures. Attached for your reference. There's at least two mistresses.
Mycroft sighed, satisfied that Kendel would cooperate with him.
“Take us to the reporter's house, Daniels. We're done.”
“Yes, sir.” Daniels started the car engine up again and pulled out of the l
ittle woodland parking space he'd found for Mycroft to sit and work in peace and quiet. As Mycroft's stomach rumbled, he realised it was long gone dinner time, and neither he nor the chauffeur had eaten anything since breakfast.
Just like his younger brother, he tended to forgo eating while working on something important, but unlike the junior Holmes sibling, it hadn't helped him stay slim. If anything, it appeared to do the opposite. When he did eat, his body stored as much as possible as fat.
He put food out of his mind and prepared himself for the next meeting. It couldn't go wrong this time. The final article would need to go to print in the next couple of hours. For now, only he and Amelia knew what the new day's headline would be.
Feeling confident, Mycroft got out of the car and knocked at the front door of the four-bedroom detached house the reporter lived in with his wife and kids. A minute later Kendel answered.
“I thought I made it clear that you aren't changing my mind,” Kendel said and tried to slam the door. Mycroft stuck his arm out and held it open. Despite the reporter's best efforts, it remained where it was.
“I mean it. Sod off.”
“Not until we've had a quick chat about your wife. And perhaps Melissa and Edith as well.” Mycroft kept his tone even and quiet, and his expression impassive. The best threats were never said as if they were threats.
“Who is it?” a woman's voice called from somewhere deeper in the house, reinforcing the peril Kendel was in. His eyes widened like a deer's in headlights before he frowned and gave Mycroft his best scowl.
“Just come have a talk with me, Mr Kendel. I'm sure it won't take long.” Mycroft felt the pressure of the door against his arm ease up, and then Kendel nodded.
“All right. But this'd better be quick.”
Mycroft took a step backwards and moved out of view of the inside of the house.
“Gary's car has broken down. He needs some help getting it back to his place. I won't be long,” Kendel said, loudly enough that his wife would be able to hear from inside the house.
Without waiting to see if Kendel followed, Mycroft headed back to the car. He hung back so Daniels could open the door for both him and the reporter. After all, appearances played a big part in these sorts of negotiations. Thankfully, Daniels also had the good sense not to ask where to go but drove off and took a country lane out of the area.
Mycroft handed Kendel Amelia's replacement article first.
“What's this?” Kendel asked after a brief glance.
“It's what you're going to submit instead of the article you've been working on. I think you'll find it satisfies the criteria.”
“But I didn't write it. Who did?”
“Someone who fully expects to see your name on it tomorrow. It might even be the best article you've ever written.”
Kendel looked it over for a few minutes and Mycroft could soon tell the man was impressed. His little disciple could at least write well.
“What if I still prefer my article?” Kendel asked when he'd finished skim-reading the piece.
“I think we both know you don't already. But just in case you need a little extra incentive, there's this.” Mycroft handed over a small cheque. It wasn't as much as they'd given the initial source to stay quiet, but Kendel would also get paid for the article so it didn't need to be.
“And, of course, if you don't choose this new article, I think your wife would be very interested to find out about this twitter account, as well as this extra credit card and, well, these photos.”
One by one, Mycroft handed over the documentation to back up everything he'd just mentioned. For several months, and in one case just over a year, Kendel had been pretending to be other men in order to pick up different women. His wife was oblivious to the adultery, as well as the debt the extravagant alter egos had racked up. On top of that, Kendel wasn't legally entitled to be married to his current wife because he was still married to his previous wife under yet another name and owed the first wife a substantial amount for selling their house and taking the entire proceeds.
“Now these documents can go back where they came from, or they can be sent to the woman you currently have as your wife. I also think the police might be interested in one or two of them. But it's entirely up to you, Mr Kendel.”
“You don't mess around, do you?” Kendel said after a few seconds.
Mycroft smiled. The rest of the meeting was inevitable. Kendel sighed and accepted the new article and cheque.
A few minutes later, Daniels was letting Kendel out of the car and Mycroft was tucking a signed agreement into his jacket pocket. The reporter and the source had both been silenced. As Kendel went inside his house, Daniels waited by the car door, leaving it shut to keep the heat in.
A few seconds later the reporter appeared with several pieces of paper, some loose pages from a notebook and a small USB stick. He handed all of them to Daniels while Mycroft watched through the one-way glass window.
“Home, sir?” Daniels asked once Kendel had gone and Mycroft had everything the man had handed over on his lap.
“Yes, back to London.”
Mycroft knew his work wouldn't quite be over. Kendel was sly enough that he'd try to hide some electronic copy of the document somewhere, like a phone or external hard drive, but Mycroft would make sure it was deleted the next time either connected to anything Kendel browsed the internet with. As long as the Prime Minister and his MPs didn't do anything stupid over the next few months, Scotland should remain part of the UK.
Satisfied, he turned his mind to other tasks and emails he'd received throughout the day. His work was never done.
***
It took Amelia a moment to gather her thoughts when she first woke up. The sun shone brightly but she could tell the room was cold. Fighting the urge to snuggle back down into the warm duvet, she flung back the covers and swung her legs out of the bed.
Noticing the chair propped under the door brought back memories of the previous night. She yawned as she felt a small amount of relief. Whoever had broken into her kitchen the first time hadn't disturbed her again.
Despite it now being day time, she hesitated to open her bedroom door. Just because they hadn't come into her bedroom didn't mean they weren't somewhere else in the house.
By the time she'd been to the bathroom and put the kettle on, she was laughing at her behaviour. No one had come into the house a second time.
After eating a light breakfast, she returned her dining chairs to their usual location and went to fetch the bag she kept her gi and gym clothes in. Saturday morning was always her favourite lesson time with Tom. They took two hours over it rather than only one, and he was usually in a better mood.
As she picked up her bag from the closet in the spare room, she noticed a strange wooden box right beside it. That hadn't been there two days earlier. She frowned and picked it up. As she did, an envelope that must have been lightly fixed to the bottom floated to the floor.
She laughed aloud as she realised whoever had broken in last night had been from Myron. Instead of them stealing something, they'd left her something. She also felt relief that she hadn't messaged Myron to ask him what to do about a possible burglar. It wouldn't have gone down well.
The wooden box was plain pine, sanded smooth, with a small digital display on the front. It had a picture of a locked padlock in the centre and a small arrow off to the left.
She carried it through to the living room and dunked it into her handbag. As much as she wanted to figure out what it was for, if she didn't leave now she would be late for her lesson.
Once she was walking on the usual route to the fitness centre, Amelia opened the envelope that had been with it.
NAA DD:DD WEEE BB:CC
A grin spread across Amelia's face. This was what she'd needed the three previous numbers for. But she hadn't seen anything for D or E yet. The smile was immediately replaced by a frown. It was possible she'd missed her last two clues.
Before she could decide what els
e she'd seen that might be a clue, Amelia arrived at the fitness centre. As usual, Tom was already changed and waiting for her to begin.
She hurried into the changing room and locked away her belongings. It wouldn't be a good idea to enter into a lesson with Tom with something else on her mind. She'd done that once and regretted it until the bruises her distraction had earnt her had faded from sight.
After a half-an-hour warm-up Tom spent an hour putting her through her paces practising all the moves he'd taught her. Now that she'd been learning for several months, he was being more picky with her exact stance, as well as the precision she put into each attack and block. By the time he told her to relax, she panted and her muscles ached.
“Sit for a minute with me and close your eyes,” he said and plonked himself down on the floor in front of her, crossing his legs. She mimicked his position and immediately felt the relief in her calf and thigh muscles, now that they weren't supporting her weight.
He stared at her for a few seconds until she remembered that he'd asked her to close her eyes, as well. A few seconds later, she was blind to anything but the bright light of the sun streaming through a side window.
“I want you to tell me when my hand is within an inch of you,” he said.
“Without opening my eyes?”
“Without opening your eyes.”
She raised her eyebrows at the request, but steadied her breathing so she could focus on the rest of her senses. It wasn't the first time Tom had done something odd for the second half of their Saturday lesson so she knew to trust him.
Before she could properly focus, she felt Tom's fingers brush past her cheek. She flinched but it hadn't hurt her, merely taken her by surprise. A minute later he tapped her ankle.
