The Invisible Amateur (10 page)

“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.”

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 sold 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.”

“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.