The Ambitious Orphan

by Amelia Price

  Amelia fought back her shivers and kept her breathing deep and calm as she walked. It wouldn't be wise to let this soldier see her afraid, or Myron, if he was around here somewhere.

  They rounded a corner and finally saw another living person. The agent who had followed her home from the fitness centre the day before sat at a small table, playing a game of patience with a worn and grimy looking pack of cards. He looked up as soon as their footsteps announced their approach, and she smiled warmly at him.

  “Hello, ma'am.” His eyes roved over her and settled on the card she still had in her hand.

  “Well, here you are, ma'am. I'll leave you in Steven's capable hands,” the soldier said snapping his heels together and saluting her. For a second, she wondered if she was meant to salute back but he relaxed again.

  “Thank you...”

  “Colonel Markham, ma'am.”

  “Thank you, Colonel Markham. You've been most helpful.”

  With that, the soldier went back the way he came, leaving her outside the door. She was about to ask the agent with her to let her in the room when she heard the sound of someone smacking something into flesh and a grunt of pain. Her eyes went wide.

  “The commander is in there,” Steven said, motioning his head towards the door and the source of the sound. “Trying to get Nesterov to talk. Don't think it will take much longer to break him.”

  Horror filled her at what might be happening in the room, and her disgust at the idea of Myron inflicting pain on another for her sake overcame all her fear.

  “Let me in,” she said as she saw the keys on the small table.

  “I'm not sure I'm allowed to do that, ma'am.”

  “It's not a request.” She gritted her teeth and looked calm but like she was about to snap any moment. It seemed to work.

  “If he gets pissed off I'm blaming you.”

  “Of course.” She nodded her appreciation and moved over to the door, tucking her new identification card into the top of her corset to keep it safe and out of the way.

  Making sure her face was as cold and impassive as she could get it, she gave him a second up and down of her head so he'd know to let her in. He turned the key and pushed the door inwards.

  Myron looked at her first, but she strode into the room before he could tell her not to. Not daring to look at him long enough to see if he was angry, she took in the sight of the Russian.

  He was laid out on the floor, chains around his hands and feet stretching him out so he couldn't protect any of the more vulnerable areas of his body. A mixture of water and blood covered the ground around him, and a second later the smell of that, urine and other unpleasant body odours assaulted her nostrils.

  For a few seconds she could only stand and stare, fighting off the queasy feeling the sight and smells had given her. Myron watched her, but didn't comment. In front of Nesterov he was unlikely to admonish her.

  Chapter 9

  Fury filled Mycroft as he watched Amelia walk in in the middle of his interrogation. He tried to use body language the prisoner wouldn't notice to encourage his wayward protégée to leave, but she looked straight past him to Nesterov.

  Knowing she was battling her own emotions in some way, Mycroft waited for her to do whatever she'd come to do, but the Russian was the first to break the silence.

  “I didn't expect to see your beautiful face any time soon,” he said, in between gasps for air and a grimace of pain. Mycroft watched both of them, forcing himself not to react to anything, as if she were expected.

  “I only now realised you were being interrogated, or I would have come sooner,” Amelia said as she walked closer. Once she was within a couple of feet, she crouched, making sure neither of her feet touched any of the liquids splattered across the floor.

  “So you're the balm that's meant to make me talk.”

  “No,” she said. “I'm not even meant to be here, but I don't like violence of any kind and, despite what you did to me, I don't want to see you hurt further.”

  “And you think you have the power to stop this?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea.” Amelia finally looked at Mycroft, searching him for the answer. He allowed a little of his anger to show when Nesterov also turned slowly towards him. After a few seconds Nesterov looked back to Amelia and studied her.

  “I don't doubt this is a secure facility. You must work for Mr Holmes or the government, too. Not a high-class hooker as you told my comrade.”

  A small smile spread across her face.

  “No, not a hooker, but, until today, nothing more than an acquaintance. And I still don't know what you thought I did.”

  “Well, one of my assumptions was right. He cares about you.”

  “See, I'm not sure about that, either.”

  “Oh, I know now. I have felt it. And you can see it in the way he looks at you.”

  “Enough!” Mycroft took a step towards them, raising the electric baton in his hand.

  “No, Myron.” Amelia held up her arm to stop him from hitting the Russian with it. “Nesterov, I don't think he'll let me ask again. Tell me who you work for and I'll do what I can to see this end.”

  “You can't promise me that he will stop.” Nesterov spat blood up onto the floor again.

  “Can't I? You said it yourself. He cares about me and what I think. I want this to end. It's barbaric.”

  Nesterov concentrated on her face and she didn't waver under his gaze.

  “There are few souls in this world as bright as yours. If this is to be my fate, I will meet it with dignity, and with honour and respect for what little grace I have had the fortune to see.”

  After a pause, the Russian turned his face to Mycroft and took a few breaths to steady himself against the pain.

  “I worked for a man called Tomek Krylov. He runs many operations, selling firearms, drugs, and even people, in and out of Russia. He pays well and had some kind of benefactor to get started.”

  Mycroft nodded. It was someone he'd heard of, which made it more likely to be true, and he had none of the usual signs a man might display when lying, but there would be no way to know for sure just yet. Mycroft wasn't the only person who could pass a lie off as the truth.

  As it was, he hadn't expected Nesterov to speak for another thirty hours or so. Something about Amelia had reached into him without breaking him.

  “Thank you,” Amelia said quietly, giving the man a warm look. Even this impressed Mycroft. This man had tortured her the last time she'd seen him, yet he saw no fear in her now.

  As she got up she gave Mycroft another look over to gauge his reaction. He gave her the smallest of nods and then collected up the implements he'd used to inflict pain on Nesterov. It would gain him nothing to hurt the Russian further right now.

  By the time he was done, Amelia had knocked on the door to get his agent outside to unlock it and let them out.

  “Get him a doctor and take care of him,” she said as she walked out. The agent's left eyebrow moved almost imperceptibly before he looked to Mycroft to see if the order would be confirmed.

  “Have some food and new clothes brought down to him as well,” Mycroft said, knowing Nesterov would hear the command. After dumping his tools on the small table, he washed his hands and cleaned all the blood off again.

  “Come.” He looked pointedly at Amelia before striding down the hallway. In a heartbeat she was beside him, having to almost run to keep up. Neither said anything until the lift doors had closed shut around them.

  “I believe I told you to wait for your ID,” Mycroft said.

  “I did.” She reached two fingers into the top of her corset and pulled out her card. A few seconds later she put it back. He gave her a stern look to show his disapproval, but she shrugged her shoulders. “I've not got any pockets.”

  “Not that!” Mycroft let out a sigh. “What did you think you were doing, coming into the interrogation like that?”

  “To begin with, obeying your orders.”

  “And how did yo
u arrive at that logic?” Mycroft clenched his fists, feeling his temper rise along with the lift.

  “You commanded me to face my fears. I was doing just that. I'll sleep better now. And I got you the information you wanted. I don't think that's too bad for my first attempt at assisting you.”

  “It will have to be verified.” He strode out of the lift as soon as the doors opened, but caught sight of the grin on Amelia's face in the reflective metal as he did so. As angry as he was for her unexpected interruption, she did have a point. Her technique had worked off the back of his abuse. Perhaps more by luck than by judgement, but it was a result nonetheless.

  As soon as he was near a laptop he messaged all the relevant departments, agents and sources to get them to find information on Tomek Krylov. By dinner time he'd have all the details anyone knew and could begin tracking the man's movements.

  “Now what?” Amelia asked as soon as he'd put the lid down and sat back.

  “We wait,” he replied and got up. Once more, she followed him out of the room.

  “We're leaving now, Colonel. I've given Lynch instructions regarding the package. I'll issue further as necessary.”

  “Of course, sir. We'll look after him. Safe trip home, sir.”

  Mycroft nodded as Amelia said goodbye and smiled, receiving a much warmer look and the gesture returned for her effort. Somehow everyone seemed to like her, and it almost puzzled him that she found it so easy to achieve. Even Nesterov had decided she was someone to respect.

  Right where he'd been left, Daniels was sitting in the car, reading a book and eating a sandwich. As soon as they were noticed, the man put both away and hurried out to open the doors for them.

  “Home,” Mycroft said and settled into his usual seat in the back. As Amelia got in beside him he caught a whiff of her usual perfume; it made him think of the first time he'd seen her in Sherlock's living room. It had led in a direction even he couldn't have anticipated, but he found he was less uncomfortable with it than he'd have predicted.

  “Are you going to suggest a hotel for me?” Amelia asked a few minutes later, as she glanced at the time on a small pocket watch attached to her waistcoat-style corset. He didn't need her to add that it was beyond the time she might want to have booked one. For a fraction of a second he considered inviting her to stay with him and taking her to bed again, but they had work to do.

  “I'll sort it,” he said eventually and pulled out his phone. A few seconds later his secretary had the message to arrange a room for her. It was better than her staying with his younger brother.

  They were still several minutes out from Mycroft's inner-city residence when his secretary replied with the details. Amelia had a room in one of his more expensive hotels for several nights. He passed them on to Amelia as Daniels pulled up outside his house.

  “Take Amelia to her hotel, Daniels,” Mycroft said before she could even move to get out of the car as well.

  “Will you let me know if the information is right?” Amelia asked as he went to get out. He sighed, but paused to answer her.

  “Of course. If it's not correct you can be sure I will inform you that your actions interfered in my interrogation.”

  Without giving her a chance to ask what would happen if the lead turned out to be solid, Mycroft got out of the car and went into his house.

  As he sank into his chair at his desk, he felt himself relax. So far, the day's work had been far more hands-on than he liked. Not only had he left London, but he'd performed the interrogation himself, even if that had provided him with a small sense of retribution on Amelia's behalf.

  His thoughts were also unsettled regarding his protégée. A couple of times recently she'd acted in a way he wouldn't have approved of, yet still pulled off the overall task. Not only that, she was now an official agent of the United Kingdom. That she was reporting to him was a distinct benefit, but he knew she'd be insistent on being involved in his work and trained even more than before.

  The original agreement he'd made with her had been superseded, although that had unravelled when he decided to go into Europe to rescue her. He couldn't really be annoyed at her when his own actions had changed their relationship. However, it still meant things were less on his terms than before.

  While he could, in theory, pick and choose what Amelia did, the royal family were now expecting him to make use of her and keep her out of trouble. And it wouldn't be surprising for his younger brother to attempt to lead her right into trouble. The younger Holmes had less regard for danger and a higher opinion of Amelia's talents. Without keeping a close eye on her, it could cause problems.

  To put his mind at rest, Mycroft decided to keep the CCTV footage of the soon-to-be-hers hotel room up on the side of his screen. For now, he would watch her himself.

  With that done, he returned his attention to Nesterov's commander, Krylov. The first report from an agent currently undercover in Russia had come through.

  Finally, he could get back to the work he loved most. Information gathering from behind a desk. From this one room he'd solved many political, economic, and logistical problems. On top of that, over the years he'd solved countless mysteries of one kind or another and tracked down countless spies, terrorists and other assorted fugitives. This sort of work was what he did best.

  Chapter 10

  With a yawn, Amelia finished getting dressed. She'd put on her final, more practical outfit that she'd brought with her. Until she knew what Myron planned to do about Nesterov's commander she didn't want to be wearing long dresses or restrictive jumpers.

  Although she'd known it might take a while for the name to be confirmed, it had been well over a day since she'd retrieved the information from Nesterov, and still Myron had told her nothing.

  To while away the time, she'd read through the few emails she'd had on her new status as an agent, as well as the attached manuals, information sheets and general rules and codes of conduct. There were a lot of them to learn, but most of them seemed to be based upon being polite, sensible and keeping important secrets. Nothing illogical.

  After she'd done that, she had taken a look at the coded letter she'd found in Myron's French copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. So far, she wasn't sure where to begin. Without a starting point, she was unsure what even one letter would translate to, and she had nothing to go on, except for the possibility of the first and last lines being commonly used words.

  After a few hours of looking at that, she'd given up and nursed the headache it had given her. It seemed some codes were still beyond her ability to solve

  This morning, knowing that Myron had tried to keep her out of danger before by leaving her behind, Amelia had decided to go back to his house and find out what stage the investigation was at. Now she'd eaten, dressed and made herself presentable to the elder Holmes brother, she walked down to the hotel reception.

  Before she could walk out the front door she noticed the familiar face of the younger Holmes.

  “Sebastian,” she said, smiling in greeting.

  “Hello, Amelia. I was just trying to get the receptionist to tell me if you were here. Seems you're not booked in under your name.”

  “No, your brother had me registered in under Dalton.”

  “Well that's not particularly hard to work out.” Sebastian frowned.

  “It stumped you, didn't it?” she asked while chuckling. This made him grin, and soon he was walking her outside.

  For the first time in several days the sun shone, and Amelia eagerly turned her face to bask in it for a few seconds.

  “I came to see if there had been any progress finding Nesterov's employer.”

  “If there has been, I've not been told yet. I was about to go and find out. You're welcome to join me.”

  “I'd love to.” Sebastian held the taxi door open for her and followed her inside.

  “I'm also quite keen to find out what your brother has done about this dreadful war business. He said he'd do what he could,” she said once they were on thei
r way to Myron's.

  “You know, a lot of women would be flattered that a man was willing to start a war for them.”

  Amelia raised her eyebrows so Sebastian elaborated.

  “There are many old wars that were started over a woman's beauty. Cleopatra herself had six wars started because of hers. And you're far more attractive than she ever was.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Genetics and the nature of population. We're all getting closer to ideals of looks and attractiveness as the dominant genes spread throughout the gene pool. You're so many generations down the line that it's a statistical certainty.”

  Amelia shook her head and tried not to laugh at the absurd idea. In some ways, it was funny to think about, but she knew war wasn't something light-hearted.

  “Well, I'm not Cleopatra. I'd much prefer it if the men who found me attractive didn't start wars in some effort to win me. Or for any other reason.”

  “Duly noted. I assume family feuds, duels and other manly acts of devotion are still acceptable ways to win the fair lady's hand?”

  This time Amelia did laugh, but she didn't answer the question. It was just a little too much like flirting for her comfort, and she'd only recently told Myron that nothing was happening between the younger Holmes and her. The last thing she wanted to cause was a rift between the brothers by making both think she was interested.

  They stayed in companionable silence until the taxi pulled up outside the elder Holmes residence. Sebastian was the first to hurry out, leaving Amelia to pay she bill. She sighed as she handed the money over. The younger Holmes could be irritating when it came to responsibility.

  Although the gate to the house sat closed, Sebastian pulled a small device from his pocket and pressed a button. In response, the gate swung open. If Amelia hadn't seen him do this the last time they came, she would have been surprised.

  It looked home-made but well-constructed and was obviously regularly used, given how little Daniels reacted when they strode up the small driveway to the house. The chauffeur was waxing Myron's car and gave Sebastian a nod and Amelia a warm smile.