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 little 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 else 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.
She sighed and doubled her effort to focus, but after the fifth time he gained contact with her skin before she could sense him, she opened her eyes.
“Did I say we were done?” Tom gave her a serious look.
“I can't do it,” she replied and glanced at the clock. Immediately she groaned. “That wasn't even ten minutes. It felt like ages.”
Tom laughed.
“Close your eyes again. We'll try just a few more times.”
She huffed out her breath but obeyed him.
“The trick with this isn't just to rely on only your sense of touch to feel me getting closer. It won't warn you in time. You need to use your sense of hearing and smell. To some degree you'll even use your sense of sight. There's enough light in here that some movements will cast a shadow. You need to detect my movement with every sense you have.”
“Okay.” Amelia calmed her breathing again, and this time she focused on her hearing. It didn't seem to help. Three more times he tapped her or brushed past some exposed skin. She switched her focus to trying to smell a difference.
The next contact came as unexpectedly as the rest had, his hand brushing past her knee cap. She didn't let this deter her and focused on the background smell of the gym. Then the smell of sweat and cologne appeared.
“Now,” she said, a second before his finger tapped the end of her nose.
“Good. I hope you smelt that one?”
She nodded.
“Try a different sense for the next one.”
A few seconds later she thought she saw a shadow moving over her eyes.
“Again,” she said, snapping the word.
“Good. How did you detect that one?”
“With sight. You cast a shadow.”
“All right. It's the sense I want you using least at the moment, but that's the sort of thing that helps you when it's almost dark. Let's try one more. See if you can hear it this time.”
Amelia didn't pre-empt any more of Tom's touches; instead, she grew more and more frustrated as time and time again he surprised her.
“All right. I think that's enough. Take a break for a moment, then we can spar.”
“What does all this have to do with martial arts, Tom?” she asked when he handed her a bottle of water.
“Directly, it's not part of the course, but I'm not just teaching you to fight. I'm training you to cope in dangerous situations. A lot of those situations will need other skills for you to survive, not just how to beat up the bad guys. You'll need to know what to do in any situation if you want to do anything of any importance for Myron. He's not an easy man to work with.”
“You sound like you've worked with him quite a lot,” Amelia replied, fishing for more information. But Tom only grinned.
“None of which I can talk about, as you should never talk to me about anything he gets you to do. The only thing I know about you is that you're a damn fast learner and Myron seems to trust you. I may be damn curious about what he's training you for, but I can never know. It's safer for both of us that way.”
“You think I'm in danger, then?”
“Myron pretty much is the UK government. Just knowing him puts you in danger. Dozens of foreigners and spies could see you with him and think you know more than you do, or find out you do know something they want to discover for themselves. And Myron has to tread carefully with other countries. He won't start a war to protect just one life.”
A shiver ran down Amelia's spine. Although she'd considered that being around Myron was dangerous – it was even a little dangerous being near Sebastian – she'd never thought that she'd be in danger just because she might be seen with him. It put her trip to Scotland with him in a whole new light.
“What do you advise?” she asked a moment later.
“Whatever you do, don't betray Myron's trust... Now come on, time to spar. You'll come to no harm on my watch.”
She nodded and tried to push the thought from her mind. If trouble was in her future somewhere, the best thing she could do now was train, and hope she'd learnt enough by the time it did come. In short, she had to trust Myron.
After twenty minutes of sparring with Tom, Amelia felt her concentration slide. Seconds later, his fist smacked into her torso, getting through her defences much more easily than it usually did.
“Ouch,” she said as he backed off. A wince crossed her face as she felt the damaged ribs. It was going to give her a very nasty bruise.
“You lost focus.” Tom didn't look pleased.
“I'm shattered. I didn't get much sleep last night and I was... busy for a very long time yesterday.” Amelia stumbled over her words, remembering what Tom had said about not telling him anything only half way through the sentence. No one else should find out from her that she was in Scotland with Myron the previous day.
“We'll stop now, then, but you'd have lost a real fight if you'd let your concentration drop like that.”
“In a real fight I'd have had adrenaline to help.” She grinned her reply but Tom's disappointed shake of his head wiped it off in less than a second.
“To begin with, the adrenaline might help you, but whoever you're fighting would be pumped with it too. Mostly, all adrenaline does is tire you out even quicker. You shouldn't ever need it to win anything, Amelia.”
“Noted.” She sighed and straightened her body. There was always something new to learn.
“Here.” Tom reached out to her, a small envelope in his hands. “I was told to give you this today.”
“From him?” she asked. He nodded as she took it. She turned it over to open it.
“Not here. I don't want the chance to accidentally see what it says.”
“Until next week, then.”
He nodded his goodbye and gave her a small bow which she copied. As soon as he was gone, she sat on one of the wooden benches and tore open the envelope.
E: 48/2(9+3)=
“Well that's not very difficult,” Amelia said out loud to the empty room. Shrugging in disbelief at the ease of the sum, she grabbed her water bottle and headed back to the women's changing rooms.
It was only once she was part-way dressed that she realised this was clue E. She had no idea what D had been.
With all the current clues in hand and an empty changing room to hide in, Amelia decided to try and solve her puzzle now. She pulled the wooden box out of her handbag and right away she noticed the arrow on it had moved to the other side.
As she looked over the letter that had come with it again, she realised she was holding a reverse geocache. The clues so far were the coordinates she needed to take the box to so it would unlock and let her inside. She chucked everything back into her handbag and finished getting dressed. She knew just the café to have a cup of tea in, so she could finish figuring out where to go to get her box to unlock.