the passenger seat,
his eyes wide and his hair stuck up at odd angles from the strange
sleeping position.
“We'll have to
catch them up,” Daniels said and firmed his mouth into a grim line.
They may not have Amelia safe yet, but none of them would give up
while she was still in a neutral country. “Would it help if we
split up?”
“No. I have few
allies out here and none could be roused in time,” Sherlock
replied, again saving Mycroft the effort of explaining a thought
process they'd gone through a long time ago.
Less than ten
metres later, Sherlock was pulling up at the end of a queue to get
into Ukraine.
“I'll speed this
up,” Mycroft said and got out of the car. He pulled out his actual
ID rather than the one for Mark Turner. This would require the full
amount of his power to sort out. Before he could show it to anyone,
several guns were pulled out and pointed at him.
Not knowing if he
could survive a bullet to a vital organ, even with his extra
powers, Mycroft paused and put his hands up. Fury rippled through
him but he contained it and kept his face impassive.
“I'm a British
diplomat,” Mycroft said in perfect Ukrainian. “I demand to be let
through on European business.”
The men looked at
each other but none of them lowered their weapons. He took a step
towards the person who looked to be in charge.
“My country will
consider this an unsanctioned act of aggression if you do not put
down your weapons and allow me through.”
After staring at
him a few seconds longer they dipped the noses of their AK47s, but
footsteps behind him sounded and they raised them again.
“Sebastian?”
Mycroft said, knowing it could only be his younger brother.
“We're just
passing through,” the younger Holmes said, also in perfect
Ukrainian. “We need to get to Russia to sort out a misunderstanding
with them.”
This started the
men off chattering.
“We don't believe
you,” the nearest guard replied a few seconds later. Mycroft rolled
his eyes. He never seemed to find anyone intelligent to negotiate
with when he really needed to.
“I've got my ID in
my hand,” Mycroft replied and waved it. He then took a slow
deliberate step forward and then another until the nervous looks on
everyone's faces made him pause. “Take a look at it.”
It took another
minute for the guard in charge to edge forward and take the piece
of laminated card. The whole while, every car in the area had to
sit and wait. Given the number of guns in the air, they all
appeared perfectly patient. It didn't matter that all of the
weapons were aimed at Mycroft.
“I will need to
speak to my boss,” the guard said and motioned for someone else to
come take his place, standing not four feet from Mycroft with a gun
pointed at his chest.
When the most
senior of them took the ID and walked into the little hut to pick
up the phone, Mycroft knew this wasn't going to be quick. As the
guard moved, he tucked the envelope from earlier into his back
pocket, out of sight. The Russians must have let them know he was
somewhere behind. All this was a complete set up.
Chapter 7
Amelia didn't know
whether to cry or scream. It had seemed like she'd come so close to
being discovered, and then the car had just pulled off. Many hours
later she was still shut up in the dark and still on her way to
Russia. To add to the discomfort, she needed to pee again.
Like before, she'd
tried to count out rough hours. She'd got to nine before she
totally mucked up and lost track of where she was. After that she
hadn't bothered. She'd pleaded one last time with whoever might be
listening to send help and stopped communicating.
If Myron truly was
listening she felt sure he'd have rescued her by now. She'd given
him the make and model of the car as well as the first part of the
registration. It wouldn't be much of a task to narrow down the
rest. She doubted there were many blue Ford Focus cars on their way
to Russia. It could only mean that she was on her own and
his eyes wide and his hair stuck up at odd angles from the strange
sleeping position.
“We'll have to
catch them up,” Daniels said and firmed his mouth into a grim line.
They may not have Amelia safe yet, but none of them would give up
while she was still in a neutral country. “Would it help if we
split up?”
“No. I have few
allies out here and none could be roused in time,” Sherlock
replied, again saving Mycroft the effort of explaining a thought
process they'd gone through a long time ago.
Less than ten
metres later, Sherlock was pulling up at the end of a queue to get
into Ukraine.
“I'll speed this
up,” Mycroft said and got out of the car. He pulled out his actual
ID rather than the one for Mark Turner. This would require the full
amount of his power to sort out. Before he could show it to anyone,
several guns were pulled out and pointed at him.
Not knowing if he
could survive a bullet to a vital organ, even with his extra
powers, Mycroft paused and put his hands up. Fury rippled through
him but he contained it and kept his face impassive.
“I'm a British
diplomat,” Mycroft said in perfect Ukrainian. “I demand to be let
through on European business.”
The men looked at
each other but none of them lowered their weapons. He took a step
towards the person who looked to be in charge.
“My country will
consider this an unsanctioned act of aggression if you do not put
down your weapons and allow me through.”
After staring at
him a few seconds longer they dipped the noses of their AK47s, but
footsteps behind him sounded and they raised them again.
“Sebastian?”
Mycroft said, knowing it could only be his younger brother.
“We're just
passing through,” the younger Holmes said, also in perfect
Ukrainian. “We need to get to Russia to sort out a misunderstanding
with them.”
This started the
men off chattering.
“We don't believe
you,” the nearest guard replied a few seconds later. Mycroft rolled
his eyes. He never seemed to find anyone intelligent to negotiate
with when he really needed to.
“I've got my ID in
my hand,” Mycroft replied and waved it. He then took a slow
deliberate step forward and then another until the nervous looks on
everyone's faces made him pause. “Take a look at it.”
It took another
minute for the guard in charge to edge forward and take the piece
of laminated card. The whole while, every car in the area had to
sit and wait. Given the number of guns in the air, they all
appeared perfectly patient. It didn't matter that all of the
weapons were aimed at Mycroft.
“I will need to
speak to my boss,” the guard said and motioned for someone else to
come take his place, standing not four feet from Mycroft with a gun
pointed at his chest.
When the most
senior of them took the ID and walked into the little hut to pick
up the phone, Mycroft knew this wasn't going to be quick. As the
guard moved, he tucked the envelope from earlier into his back
pocket, out of sight. The Russians must have let them know he was
somewhere behind. All this was a complete set up.
Chapter 7
Amelia didn't know
whether to cry or scream. It had seemed like she'd come so close to
being discovered, and then the car had just pulled off. Many hours
later she was still shut up in the dark and still on her way to
Russia. To add to the discomfort, she needed to pee again.
Like before, she'd
tried to count out rough hours. She'd got to nine before she
totally mucked up and lost track of where she was. After that she
hadn't bothered. She'd pleaded one last time with whoever might be
listening to send help and stopped communicating.
If Myron truly was
listening she felt sure he'd have rescued her by now. She'd given
him the make and model of the car as well as the first part of the
registration. It wouldn't be much of a task to narrow down the
rest. She doubted there were many blue Ford Focus cars on their way
to Russia. It could only mean that she was on her own and
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