The Unexpected Coincidence by Amelia Price Page B

longer over the few metres closest to the
cache. If anything was left behind, it would most likely be here,
but he spotted nothing. A print alone wasn't enough. It wouldn't
lead him to men who were being so careful. It was evidence, but not
a lead.
    By the time
Mycroft had gone over the entire patch of land, the morning was
almost upon them and the horizon to the east was no longer black.
He scowled at his agents as he ducked underneath the crime tape and
left the area.
    “Sir, they've run
checks on the boat. It was stolen four months ago but the police
had no leads.”
    “The boat was
still in the Thames. How can it have been stolen four months ago.”
Mycroft sighed and noticed Herbert was about to speak. “No, don't
answer that. It wasn't a question. Have the police report and the
victim's name and address forwarded. I'll have it looked into. In
the meantime, liaise with the rest of the team on our other
locations.”
    “What about this
one?” Williams asked.
    “I'll get someone
more... subtle ... on it,” he said and walked off without
another word. He then pulled his phone out of his pocket and
messaged Sherlock.
     
    Need one of
your friends to watch Rainham Marsh for me. I'll pay, as usual.
Daniels will bring the money around and some other information I'd
like you to look at.
     
    “Home, sir?”
Daniels asked once Mycroft was back in the car.
    “No, the club.” He
needed some space to think away from all the distractions. “And
then take a payment and the information I'm about to receive to my
brother.”
    “Anything else,
sir?”
    “No. I'll let you
know when I want picking up. Get some sleep until I need you.”
    “Thank you, sir,”
Daniels said and Mycroft realised the chauffeur wasn't as young as
he used to be. It often took Mycroft by surprise when the people
around him got older. Being ageless had become normal, far too
normal.
    As the sun started
another journey across the British sky Mycroft walked into the
Diogenes Club. He'd been the co-founder of it well over a hundred
years ago, although they were unaware of that. Just like everyone
else, except Sherlock, they believed him to be a descendent of the
great Mycroft Holmes and not the man himself.
    Less than five
seconds after stepping through the door, a butler appeared carrying
his personal slippers and a tray with the day's paper. By the time
he had the comfortable burgundy slippers on his feet and the paper
in his hands, he was perfectly relaxed. The butler picked up the
discarded muddy shoes and neither needed to say anything for
Mycroft to know they would be clean by the time he left.
     
     

Chapter 6
    The sound of
Amelia's phone alarm woke her from a deep sleep. She winced as her
head protested to her sitting up but she sat up anyway. Drinking so
much hadn't been the wisest of ideas while on tour, but after the
evening scare, she'd not been able to resist having another glass
of wine before bed. It had helped calm her after her run-in with
Guy and the suspicion that she'd been followed. Hotel room service
was a dangerous temptation.
    She tried not to
think about the events contributing to the knot in her stomach as
she gathered up her discarded clothes and retrieved her handbag
from underneath the bed. As she reached into it to check the phone
Myron had given her, she brushed up against paper she wasn't
expecting. Frowning, she pulled apart the opening to get a better
look and dropped her handbag.
    Inside was another
letter from her stalker. For a minute, Amelia couldn't do anything
but shake with her mouth wide open. If she'd not regretted drinking
before, she did now. At some point while she'd been out at dinner
last night the stalker had been close enough to her to put the
letter right into her handbag and she had no idea when.
    Leaving the bag in
the middle of the floor, she sank into the dresser chair and tried
to focus on the events of the previous night. She didn't think
anyone had come close enough to her to slip anything inside