position.
While he thought
this, Amelia started shuffling again. She grunted a couple of
times, and just under five minutes later she was whispering
again.
“I'm in a blue
Ford Focus with a British plate. It begins AT57. We switched cars
in the middle of some kind of manufacturing place. No one was
around. There's four men with me now. I don't recognise any of the
others.”
Before Amelia had
finished telling him all she knew Mycroft was passing it on to the
relevant people. She'd done well to get untied again so swiftly,
and he wasn't going to waste her effort.
Five minutes later
his phone rang. The number came up on the screen for the
Commissioner's office.
“They've just
found the previous car, Mr Holmes. Near a small town called
Berugsarany.”
“At a factory
there,” Mycroft said, finishing his sentence.
“Yes. I've got
them looking for the next car as we speak. Several extra police
cars have been dispatched to patrol the roads between there and the
border.”
“Have the border
guards been informed?”
“I have it under
good authority that they're doing that now.”
Mycroft felt a
rush of satisfaction. This time they should be stopped.
“We're slowing
again,” Amelia whispered, cutting through Mycroft's
conversation.
“They're at the
border, Commissioner. I want them stopped,” Mycroft said, making
sure his tone matched the sentiment.
“I understand, Mr
Holmes. Just hold the line, sir, and I'll get right on sorting this
out.”
“We're about half
an hour away,” Sherlock said a few seconds later as Mycroft made it
obvious he was waiting.
“Sounds like
something is happening,” Amelia whispered a few seconds later. “We
seem to have pulled off to one side and traffic is now moving past
us.”
“Yes!” Daniels
yelled, losing his usual composure. Normally, Mycroft would have
given him a reprimanding look, but given the circumstances he
allowed the man to express his pleasure unchecked. After hacking
around for a few minutes, he managed to pull up a video of the
border control Amelia was at. The blue Ford Focus was off to one
side as Amelia had suggested it might be, and several men were
standing outside with the one of the passengers.
“Hey, I'm in
here!” Amelia yelled a few seconds later. “I'm in here!” She kicked
and thumped with all her might but everyone in the video ignored
her. Mycroft knew they should be able to hear her, but he could
only watch as the Russian handed over an envelope and got back in
the car again.
A few seconds
later they drove off, and the engine roared to life through the bug
on Amelia.
“No!” Amelia
yelled and hammered her fists on the inside of the car.
“Shut up,” a
Russian must have yelled back. It came out muffled, but Mycroft
hoped Amelia had the sense to obey it. If she kicked up a fuss now
it was only likely to earn her a beating. Thankfully, she had
enough presence of mind to work through that logic herself and she
quietened down.
“I have no idea
what just happened,” she whispered. “But I don't think I'm going to
have a chance to escape on my own until I get wherever they're
taking me. Not that I even know if you're listening, Myron. For all
I bloody well know I could be talking to myself.”
Mycroft blinked,
swallowing the lump in his throat. When Daniels caught his eye, he
knew he wasn't the only person wishing they could respond and
reassure Amelia that she very much wasn't alone.
Ten minutes later,
the Commissioner came back on the phone.
“I'm sorry, Mr
Holmes.”
“I'm aware of what
happened.”
“I've tried to get
my Ukrainian counterpart to step in but he's assured me we must
have made some mistake. Apparently the Russian you sent me a
picture of has some kind of immunity in Ukraine. I'm blocked from
doing anything further.”
“I'll do what I
can at my end,” Mycroft said and hung up.
“We're on our
own.” Sherlock said, in all likelihood to fill Daniels in on the
situation. The chauffeur was still sitting in
While he thought
this, Amelia started shuffling again. She grunted a couple of
times, and just under five minutes later she was whispering
again.
“I'm in a blue
Ford Focus with a British plate. It begins AT57. We switched cars
in the middle of some kind of manufacturing place. No one was
around. There's four men with me now. I don't recognise any of the
others.”
Before Amelia had
finished telling him all she knew Mycroft was passing it on to the
relevant people. She'd done well to get untied again so swiftly,
and he wasn't going to waste her effort.
Five minutes later
his phone rang. The number came up on the screen for the
Commissioner's office.
“They've just
found the previous car, Mr Holmes. Near a small town called
Berugsarany.”
“At a factory
there,” Mycroft said, finishing his sentence.
“Yes. I've got
them looking for the next car as we speak. Several extra police
cars have been dispatched to patrol the roads between there and the
border.”
“Have the border
guards been informed?”
“I have it under
good authority that they're doing that now.”
Mycroft felt a
rush of satisfaction. This time they should be stopped.
“We're slowing
again,” Amelia whispered, cutting through Mycroft's
conversation.
“They're at the
border, Commissioner. I want them stopped,” Mycroft said, making
sure his tone matched the sentiment.
“I understand, Mr
Holmes. Just hold the line, sir, and I'll get right on sorting this
out.”
“We're about half
an hour away,” Sherlock said a few seconds later as Mycroft made it
obvious he was waiting.
“Sounds like
something is happening,” Amelia whispered a few seconds later. “We
seem to have pulled off to one side and traffic is now moving past
us.”
“Yes!” Daniels
yelled, losing his usual composure. Normally, Mycroft would have
given him a reprimanding look, but given the circumstances he
allowed the man to express his pleasure unchecked. After hacking
around for a few minutes, he managed to pull up a video of the
border control Amelia was at. The blue Ford Focus was off to one
side as Amelia had suggested it might be, and several men were
standing outside with the one of the passengers.
“Hey, I'm in
here!” Amelia yelled a few seconds later. “I'm in here!” She kicked
and thumped with all her might but everyone in the video ignored
her. Mycroft knew they should be able to hear her, but he could
only watch as the Russian handed over an envelope and got back in
the car again.
A few seconds
later they drove off, and the engine roared to life through the bug
on Amelia.
“No!” Amelia
yelled and hammered her fists on the inside of the car.
“Shut up,” a
Russian must have yelled back. It came out muffled, but Mycroft
hoped Amelia had the sense to obey it. If she kicked up a fuss now
it was only likely to earn her a beating. Thankfully, she had
enough presence of mind to work through that logic herself and she
quietened down.
“I have no idea
what just happened,” she whispered. “But I don't think I'm going to
have a chance to escape on my own until I get wherever they're
taking me. Not that I even know if you're listening, Myron. For all
I bloody well know I could be talking to myself.”
Mycroft blinked,
swallowing the lump in his throat. When Daniels caught his eye, he
knew he wasn't the only person wishing they could respond and
reassure Amelia that she very much wasn't alone.
Ten minutes later,
the Commissioner came back on the phone.
“I'm sorry, Mr
Holmes.”
“I'm aware of what
happened.”
“I've tried to get
my Ukrainian counterpart to step in but he's assured me we must
have made some mistake. Apparently the Russian you sent me a
picture of has some kind of immunity in Ukraine. I'm blocked from
doing anything further.”
“I'll do what I
can at my end,” Mycroft said and hung up.
“We're on our
own.” Sherlock said, in all likelihood to fill Daniels in on the
situation. The chauffeur was still sitting in
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