The Female Charm by Amelia Price

there was a B missing, and she suspected it was seventeen.
She'd seen that number or heard it in between the two letters so it
would make at least some sense.
    She added all this
information to her notebook, and then sat back to try and work out
what this clue might mean, but no matter how she looked at it, she
couldn't see the pattern.
    After several
minutes of staring blankly at the numbers she decided to take a
break. She wasn't far from Carlisle and would need to change trains
there, and again at Birmingham, before she arrived back in Bath
late that evening.
    While she let her
subconscious mull over the numbers, she decided to let Myron know
she had worked out the rose was from him. She pulled out her phone
and took her time composing a message.
     
    Thank you for
the rose. It took me a while to realise it was from you, but now I
know B is 17; it's obvious. Your comment when you first saw it was
a good diversion. Looking forward to what's next.
     
    Amelia sighed and
pressed the send button. It was never quite the same writing
something instead of saying it, and she knew she'd like to imply
more, but Myron was always brief with her in text format. She could
only hope she saw him again soon.
    As she was
standing on the platform at Carlisle, she received a reply.
     
    Good.
     
    She chuckled as
she got on the new train. Myron was very brief.
    Wanting a table
seat to be able to attempt to crack the latest code from Myron,
Amelia moved through the first carriage, past the already occupied
seats. When she reached the door at the end, she caught a glimpse
of the people behind her and noticed the same dark fur hat poking
above one of the seats. Myron evidently still had more in store for
her if this man was following her.
     
     

Chapter 7
    Mycroft sipped at
his third cup of tea and waited at the café. The reporter still
hadn't responded, and he was already growing angry. If they only
knew how much power he wielded they would have replied instantly.
He could have mentioned it, but he knew people rarely believed the
depths of a threat. Human nature seemed to see a threat as a
challenge, and Mycroft had soon learnt that there were better ways
to get someone to understand they had no choice but to cooperate.
It didn't help that with this task he couldn't allow the reporter
to test him. The information needed to be stopped or the Scottish
Referendum would swing the wrong way.
    While he waited,
he responded to the many emails and messages his secretary had
forwarded on to him. He gave his input and opinion on every area of
UK government, from the appointment of staff to new laws and even
things like road closures in London. Sometimes he wasn't listened
to, but he couldn't make every imbecile with some power see sense.
He didn't have the time or the inclination. As long as the usual
area of London was kept sane and safe, and the country continued in
roughly the right direction, he didn't interfere too much.
    He also sent
messages to all the people who'd been involved in part B of
Amelia's latest task. She'd thanked him for the rose, and as far as
he was aware he hadn't sent her one, and would never have chosen to
do so had he been in control of every little detail, but he'd
trusted the task to others, as well. It was possible it had
indirectly come from him.
    A little before
three, a middle-aged man wearing a wrinkled shirt with an
off-centre tie hurried into the café, folding down his sodden
umbrella as he did so. Immediately Mycroft gave him a nod to let
the unkempt man know where to go. He sat down in the seat Amelia
had vacated and ran his hand through his already ruffled dark brown
hair.
    “Right, I want to
keep this simple,” Kendel said before Mycroft could speak. “I'm not
interested in keeping this out of the paper. I've got a deadline to
meet and this is by far the best piece. I don't care who you are or
where exactly you're from. Suzy said you showed her some MI5 thing,
and I know for a fact they don't identify