The Female Charm (11 page)

A part of her
still didn't quite believe that Myron was trusting her with
something like this, but Daniels had turned up to take her to
London just as she'd been told. It was now up to her to play her
part.

“We're going to be
about half an hour early. Do you want me to drive you around the
block?” Daniels said when she'd almost finished her fourth read
through.

“No, drop me off.
I can wait in the entrance.” Given how nervous she felt, she knew
she needed time to calm down, and it wouldn't happen while she sat
in a car, being driven around London. If there was a bar, it would
be an even better decision. A little liquid courage would be
perfect.

Less than five
minutes later, Daniels pulled up outside the hotel entrance and got
up to let her out. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes,
taking one last opportunity, while in the safety of the car, to
calm her breathing. It didn't help.

For several
seconds, she stared at the open car door and the small area of
pavement she could see through it. Eventually, her mind managed to
will her body past her fear and get it to move, picking up her
small handbag on the way. She stepped out and almost fell right
into Daniels, her heel buckling underneath her.

“You all right,
miss?” Daniels asked as he put out a hand to help steady her.

“Just fine,
Daniels, thank you. I'm not really used to walking in heels. Forgot
I was wearing them for a second there.” She gave him her best
smile, knowing the act needed to begin soon. He nodded and said
goodbye, leaving her to walk past the two burly doormen either side
of the door.

One of them leant
forward and opened it for her as she approached. She smiled and
nodded her thanks, not trusting herself to speak but feeling far
more gratitude than she ought to. It meant she could keep walking
in the stride she'd already settled into and would be less likely
to fall over in such an obvious place.

Once inside, she
walked over to the receptionist, a tall middle-aged man with
pristine, side-parted black hair. As soon as she had his attention,
she pulled a thick envelope out of her coat pocket.

“In about an hour
there will be another young woman who looks a bit like me come in.
Her name's Natalie. She'll ask what room Vladistro is staying in.
Could you give her this for me, please?” Amelia asked. The
receptionist nodded.

“Of course, my
dear. May I take your name?”

Amelia blinked,
not expecting this question.

“Karnellin. I'm a
friend of Vladistro's.” It was a lie, but it would suffice. It was
the surname of someone Myron suspected was here to negotiate with
him. If Vladistro got suspicious about her, he would think she'd
been sent as a part of some kind of deal instead of his usual
prostitute, Natalie. The regular whore would get the envelope
Amelia had just handed over. Inside was a message saying Natalie
wasn't wanted that evening, along with enough money to cover her
usual fee.

After giving the
man a gentle smile that would hopefully appear demure, she walked
towards the bar sign, undoing the buttons on her coat, but holding
it close so very little of her outfit underneath could be seen.

Already, she was
grateful she'd looked over the information one last time. Now all
she had to do was pass off as Natalie's replacement. And seeing as
Natalie wasn't due for almost half an hour, Amelia knew she had
time for a drink.

It didn't take her
long to get to the bar, and by the time she was standing in front
of it she realised she already felt calmer. Her hands and arms were
still shaking a little so she ordered a whiskey on the rocks. When
it came, she handed over the money and waited for the barman to
leave her alone.

“You here alone,
then?” he asked instead of wandering off. She nodded and tried not
to show her anger on her face. The last thing she wanted was to be
chatted up by the staff.

“Business or
pleasure?” He smiled at her, his eyes wandering from her face to
the top line of her clothing across her chest. It revealed a lot
more of her than she'd normally feel comfortable with but it was
part of the act. As soon as she was done, she would change.

Thankfully, before
she had to answer his question, another customer came up to the bar
and politely coughed to get some attention. Amelia glanced their
way and thought he looked familiar. Immediately, she placed him as
the man who'd followed her home from Scotland. It could only be one
of Myron's men.

Amelia fought the
grin that wanted to spread across her face. It probably meant this
wasn't a real situation but he wanted her to believe it was. It
gave her something to think about, but she knew it would be better
to assume it was real for now, just in case she was wrong.

While she was left
alone and unnoticed, Amelia downed her drink and got down from the
bar stool. She would be early if she went up to the room now, but
she knew that could well be a good thing.

If Myron's
information on Vladistro was correct, he would be playing poker
with two of his friends this evening. He would send her through to
his bedroom to wait for him until he was done. That would give her
time to plant the bugs, and then she could make herself sick and
excuse herself. She'd not even need to meet Vladistro, let alone do
anything with him.

On her way towards
the lift, she reached into her handbag and checked the bugs Daniels
had given her were still where she wanted them. She had two tucked
into the lining so they wouldn't be noticed if someone decided to
search the bag, and she'd covered the small hole with a condom.
Another two were in a small extra pocket she'd tucked under a flap
on the inside of her coat. Relief rushed through her as she felt
the four little machines. Hopefully these would be in the places
Myron wanted them before too much longer.

Feeling the first
gentle wave of the alcohol taking effect, Amelia got into one of
the lifts. She was alone, so she took the opportunity to remove her
coat and reveal the skin-tight outfit she was wearing. She'd
forgone her usual waistcoat-style corset to wear a little black
dress that stopped mid-way down her thighs. Her hair was pinned up
near the top of her head and waved down from there, giving her an
elegant, but still sexy, look. It was just enough class to get her
through the hotel door and just enough whore to get her into the
bedroom.

She tucked the
light-weight coat that had covered it all over her hand bag,
noticing her hands were still shaking a little but not enough that
she'd look like an amateur. The alcohol had done its trick.

When the lift came
to a halt on the right floor and the doors slid open, she strode
out and held her head high as if she owned the place. There was no
room for mistakes from this point onwards.

She quickly worked
out which way the numbers were heading and made her way down the
hall, striding in the heels and giving her hips a little more of a
wiggle than usual. There was no one to see her, but she knew it was
better to play the part beforehand and feel more comfortable with
it.

She knocked on the
door as soon as she reached the number Myron had given her, leaving
herself no time to panic. In only a few seconds it was opened
enough that a man in a dark suit could look out at her. She gave
him her sexiest smile. His eyes roved downwards, taking his time
over studying her.

“You're not the
usual girl,” he said in a light Russian accent.

“Natalie was sick
in a way Vladistro won't appreciate. They sent me instead. I'm good
at soothing a man's... disappointment.”

“You'd better be;
he doesn't like changes to his routine.” He opened the door the
rest of the way and let her inside. She strode through, looking
more confident than she felt. Another man, dressed in a matching
suit and somehow sporting even more muscle, barred her way. They
exchanged a few words in Russian with each other and both stared.
She waited, letting them see what they wanted. Neither of them
would see her again once she was out of the room.

“Wait here,” the
first one said eventually, and wandered farther inside. She smiled
at the remaining bodyguard but he didn't return the gesture,
instead pretending she didn't exist.

She was only kept
waiting a minute before the bodyguard came back.

“Vladistro isn't
ready for you yet. Go wait in the bedroom for him.”

She nodded and
tried not to look as smugly satisfied as she felt. This part of the
plan was going well. They moved out of her way, not even checking
her coat or handbag and taking no interest in her anymore.

As she moved past
the suite's entrance area, she subtly took in her surroundings.
Myron had impressed the importance upon her in the information
she'd been provided. She should know exactly where the exits are
and what was in the room within only a few seconds.

She soon found
herself in a large living room. Over beside the bar, three men sat
at a table playing poker. The left hand one was Vladistro and he
was the only one who looked up when she walked in. He glanced over
her, not meeting her eyes, before turning back to the game and
chucking a few of the poker chips in front of him into the middle
pile.

Seeing no other
exits, phones, and only one good place to hide a bug, by the bar,
she walked over to the door to her right. It was slightly ajar, and
she pushed it open to reveal the bedroom.

A large double bed
sat neatly in the middle of the room, with a cabinet on each side.
A lamp sat on the left one and a plugged-in telephone on the right
one.

She glanced back
but she was being ignored, so she shut the bedroom door as quietly
as she could. Seconds later, she was rummaging in her handbag and
placing a bug on the inside of the right hand cabinet. She then
went into the en-suite bathroom and placed another just behind the
sink in there. The latter one was unlikely to be useful, but she
had four and had only seen two other good locations for them.
Before she could do anything else, the lights went out.

Mycroft focused on
the poker game to help keep his temper in check. Of all the ways
he'd hoped Amelia would use to gain access to the rooms, he hadn't
wanted her to try and pose as a whore. Although, given her usual
fall-back towards female charm, it wasn't entirely out of character
for her.

It would have been
much simpler if she'd posed as the hotel cleaning staff, however.
He'd mentioned in his notes on the fictional Vladistro that the
rooms were cleaned after the prostitute left. There was also room
service to pose as and several other ways she could have gained
access to the bedroom if she'd thought about it.

He grunted with
satisfaction as he won the poker hand. Not because he felt
satisfied or would ever grunt, but Vladistro would, so it was
necessary. As he was picking up the chips from the middle, the
power cut, plunging them into darkness. Not even the digital
display of the clock on the TV and DVD player were lit up.

A few seconds
later one of the guards he'd had stationed by the door pulled out a
torch and used it to find candles. There were a few near the bar,
which were soon lit and flickering in the dim room.

“What now, boss?”
the guard asked him in Russian, not knowing that he wasn't
Vladistro either.

“Go. I won't play
by candlelight. I'll amuse myself with the girl. Get some sleep,”
he replied, knowing that was exactly what the Russian he'd created
would have said in that moment. As one, all the men in the room
obeyed him and filed out. They split up and went to the room beside
and the one opposite, making sure they were at hand if he needed
them.

As soon as he was
alone, he picked up one of the candles, blew out the rest and made
his way through to the bedroom. He wondered if Amelia would have
used the darkness and confusion to escape the hotel room, but he'd
be cross if she had. That sort of thing would be suspicious.

This was a bit of
a freak accident, but Amelia would have to think her way out of it
as she would need to do if it had happened for real. It also might
teach her to think twice about posing as someone as vulnerable as a
prostitute again.

With that final
thought, he pushed open the bedroom door. Amelia was nowhere in
sight but he soon saw movement from the en-suite. He let the door
go behind him, slightly stunned by how the flickering candlelight
played across her bare legs and lit up the black fabric of her
dress.

As the door
slammed, it blew just enough air that the candle went out. He
swore, and just in time, he made sure it was in Russian.

“Power cut?”
Amelia asked, her voice sounding closer than she'd appeared a few
seconds before.

“Da.” He heard the
sound of her feet shuffling closer on the carpet. “Take your dress
off and get on the bed.”

Her shuffling
paused, and he wondered if she'd obey. Not long after, he heard the
metallic vibration as she undid the zip, and the silken rush as the
dress fell to the floor in a heap. He raised an eyebrow, knowing
she wouldn't be able to see it.

The bed springs
gave away her next movement, but he still didn't move. Surely, it
was time for her to extricate herself from this. It was always
important she have an exit strategy.

“What would you
like me to do now?” she asked, her vocal tone a little deeper than
normal. He felt his spine shiver and then a flutter in the depths
of his torso. If nothing else, his body was responding to having a
semi-naked woman on the bed nearby.

Outwardly, he
didn't respond, but knew he had to continue. If she really intended
to see this through, as unexpected as that would be, he would stop
it before too long. Closing the distance between him and the bed
took no time at all, but before he could get on the bed beside her
the beside lamp came on, casting a pale glow across the room and
showing him Amelia.