knew how to keep her emotions under control.
Something he thought very important.
All the
information he'd learnt would help him teach her as well as keep
their game on his terms. He probably knew her better now than she
did herself and he could be confident she wouldn't make a fuss when
he was done playing with her.
With a smile of
smug satisfaction Mycroft sat back and stared at the photos of her
playing in a looped slide-show in front of him. He stayed that way
for several minutes until he realised his team had still not
reported in concerning the terrorist attack. He glanced at the
clock on the wall. There was less than an hour of Friday left.
Something had gone wrong.
Chapter 6
Saturday morning
flew past in a haze as Mycroft attended meeting after meeting with
official cabinet members and other government officials. All of
them wanted to know why the information was wrong and what was
going to be done about it. Ironically he'd have been more likely to
give them answers if they'd stopped their pointless discussions and
let him get back to work. Instead he had to text his brother and
get Sherlock to re-examine the intercepted message for him.
During what he
hoped would be his final meeting of the day, he received a message
from his informant on Amelia.
Brother sent text to
Miss Jones. She's just bought a train ticket to London and booked a
hotel room. I've emailed you all the details.
He frowned and put
his phone back in his pocket. The last thing he wanted was Amelia
Jones getting involved. It already looked as if she'd taken them
down the wrong direction and kept him from keeping the country
safe. He should never have trusted her suggestions.
As soon as the
meeting ended he opened the email from his informant and studied
it. To make matters worse she was staying in the same hotel. At
least he hadn't posted her letter and could get it to her while she
was in London, although he wasn't going to sneak it into her hotel
room again. If his brother had summoned Amelia then he could show
up while she was there and slip it into her bag. He could also pass
on the phone he wanted her to use to reply to him, assuming he
still wished to. At the moment, he considered cutting all ties with
her. He'd trusted her judgement and it remained to be proved wise
or foolish.
“Home, sir?”
Daniels asked.
“No. Baker
Street.” Mycroft sat back and tried to think of how he was going to
sort out the mess Amelia had created. At least he would be able to
point out she'd got it wrong. If he hadn't already written out the
next letter he'd have told her it was over. He'd never been so
furious, not even when Sherlock had been duped by that woman and
lost a file of government secrets. All the hours wasted listening
to people drone on had only made him angrier.
Mycroft wasn't
surprised when he noticed the now familiar perfume lingering in the
hallway. Both his brother and Amelia stared at him as he walked
into the flat's living area. The pair stood in almost the exact
same positions as they had the first time he'd discovered them
working together.
She gave him a
brief smile, but it vanished when he gave her his often used
sneer.
“I thought we'd be
seeing you soon, brother of mine,” Sherlock said, taking Mycroft's
focus away from Amelia and the corseted waistcoat she wore with
trousers and boots.
“People want
answers.” Mycroft moved his gaze back to Amelia and tried not to
think about the compromising pictures he'd got of her. “Nothing
happened on Friday and they want to know why my information was
wrong.”
We've looked at
the message several times,” she replied, motioning to the
whiteboard behind her. “We can't see any other sort of
pattern.”
“Which is why I am
here. We shall have to look again.” Mycroft walked past her and
stood in front of the letter. In truth he hadn't been able to think
of an alternative code yet but he wanted her to squirm for a while.
He knew his agents would have provided
Something he thought very important.
All the
information he'd learnt would help him teach her as well as keep
their game on his terms. He probably knew her better now than she
did herself and he could be confident she wouldn't make a fuss when
he was done playing with her.
With a smile of
smug satisfaction Mycroft sat back and stared at the photos of her
playing in a looped slide-show in front of him. He stayed that way
for several minutes until he realised his team had still not
reported in concerning the terrorist attack. He glanced at the
clock on the wall. There was less than an hour of Friday left.
Something had gone wrong.
Chapter 6
Saturday morning
flew past in a haze as Mycroft attended meeting after meeting with
official cabinet members and other government officials. All of
them wanted to know why the information was wrong and what was
going to be done about it. Ironically he'd have been more likely to
give them answers if they'd stopped their pointless discussions and
let him get back to work. Instead he had to text his brother and
get Sherlock to re-examine the intercepted message for him.
During what he
hoped would be his final meeting of the day, he received a message
from his informant on Amelia.
Brother sent text to
Miss Jones. She's just bought a train ticket to London and booked a
hotel room. I've emailed you all the details.
He frowned and put
his phone back in his pocket. The last thing he wanted was Amelia
Jones getting involved. It already looked as if she'd taken them
down the wrong direction and kept him from keeping the country
safe. He should never have trusted her suggestions.
As soon as the
meeting ended he opened the email from his informant and studied
it. To make matters worse she was staying in the same hotel. At
least he hadn't posted her letter and could get it to her while she
was in London, although he wasn't going to sneak it into her hotel
room again. If his brother had summoned Amelia then he could show
up while she was there and slip it into her bag. He could also pass
on the phone he wanted her to use to reply to him, assuming he
still wished to. At the moment, he considered cutting all ties with
her. He'd trusted her judgement and it remained to be proved wise
or foolish.
“Home, sir?”
Daniels asked.
“No. Baker
Street.” Mycroft sat back and tried to think of how he was going to
sort out the mess Amelia had created. At least he would be able to
point out she'd got it wrong. If he hadn't already written out the
next letter he'd have told her it was over. He'd never been so
furious, not even when Sherlock had been duped by that woman and
lost a file of government secrets. All the hours wasted listening
to people drone on had only made him angrier.
Mycroft wasn't
surprised when he noticed the now familiar perfume lingering in the
hallway. Both his brother and Amelia stared at him as he walked
into the flat's living area. The pair stood in almost the exact
same positions as they had the first time he'd discovered them
working together.
She gave him a
brief smile, but it vanished when he gave her his often used
sneer.
“I thought we'd be
seeing you soon, brother of mine,” Sherlock said, taking Mycroft's
focus away from Amelia and the corseted waistcoat she wore with
trousers and boots.
“People want
answers.” Mycroft moved his gaze back to Amelia and tried not to
think about the compromising pictures he'd got of her. “Nothing
happened on Friday and they want to know why my information was
wrong.”
We've looked at
the message several times,” she replied, motioning to the
whiteboard behind her. “We can't see any other sort of
pattern.”
“Which is why I am
here. We shall have to look again.” Mycroft walked past her and
stood in front of the letter. In truth he hadn't been able to think
of an alternative code yet but he wanted her to squirm for a while.
He knew his agents would have provided
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