The Female Charm (8 page)

She crept over to
the back door and closed it as quietly as she could, not locking it
in case an intruder was still in her house. It made no sense to
lock someone dangerous in with her when they were likely to want to
escape.

As she did, she
noticed there was no sign of a break-in. Whoever had got inside had
picked the lock. Or worse, used a key. She clutched the knife
tighter before reminding herself not to panic. With all the
training she'd had, she ought to be able to handle this.

Standing by the
back door, Amelia took several deep breaths, getting her heart rate
back under control and surveying the room as best she could in the
darkened state. From where she stood, she couldn't see anything
missing or out of place.

One step at a
time, she made her way around the open-plan living room and
kitchen, running her eyes over everything of value and the drawers
and cupboards. Nothing was gone or open.

When she'd
completed the living area, she went back down the hall to her
bedroom. She'd left the door wide open and could see that the room
was exactly the same. Given that she'd been sleeping in there, she
didn't worry about checking it and moved on to the spare room. She
kept that door shut, which was exactly how she found it now.

Taking another
deep breath, she turned the handle and pushed the door open. The
tucked-away sofa-bed stood where it always did, and her desk was
equally neat in the opposite corner. Not even her computer had been
touched. She moved on, leaving that door wide open as well.

As she passed the
airing cupboard, Amelia paused. Although she doubted anyone would
be hiding in there, she knew if she didn't check she'd not be able
to sleep. Steeling her nerves once more, she opened that door as
well. Once again, she exhaled as she found nothing out of
place.

That left her with
one more room. The bathroom. It was also the farthest room from the
back door. Despite finding everything untouched so far, standing
outside this final room was the most frightening. If the intruder
was still inside her house, then he was in here.

She bit down on
her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and pulled the final
handle down. Even once she'd managed to get that far she continued
to hold it, the door still shut, for several long seconds.

With her hand
shaking, she gently gave the door a push. It swung open, revealing
the interior of the bathroom bit by bit. As soon as she could see
the whole area, she let out a nervous laugh. She was such a moron
sometimes. There was no one there, and it didn't look like there
had been anyone since she'd last used it.

Now that any
immediate threat was over, Amelia went back to the living room and
flicked the light on. She blinked rapidly while her eyes adjusted
to the sudden brightness, and then she scanned over the contents
again to check nothing was gone.

Once more, she
glanced over all the rooms and then she checked her jewellery box
on the dresser in her bedroom on the slight chance whoever had come
in had crept in there while she slept, but all her valuables were
still in place.

Confused, she
returned to her living room and sat down on the sofa to think.
Given that she'd found her back door ajar, she knew someone must
have come in, but there was no sign she could see that anyone had
been there but her. She could call the police and get them to look
over the house, but with nothing taken they were unlikely to think
there was a serious crime to investigate. It would be more likely
that they'd think she'd left the door open herself, as other people
might have.

No, the police
wouldn't be of any use. However, Myron might. The second she
thought of the elder Holmes brother she wondered if it had actually
been a man of his, if not the man himself, and shot up to go to her
handbag. She emptied the contents out onto the coffee table,
sending her favourite nail varnish bottle, her lipstick, keys and
the phone he'd given her flying across the surface.

“Oops,” she said
aloud to the empty room. After a quick glance she realised nothing
had been left there either and hastily shoved everything but the
phone back inside. She could reorganise it in the morning. There
was nothing new there, but she picked up her phone and considered
messaging him.

Several times she
typed out a text but each time she deleted it again. After staring
at the blank screen for several seconds she put the phone away.
Already she knew what Myron would say. He'd tell her to suck it up
and get on with it. Fear wasn't something she could let get the
better of her.

It took her only a
minute to come up with her own plan of action. Until morning, there
was little she could do, so she picked up one of her dining chairs
and wedged it underneath the back door handle. The following day
she'd fit a bolt on the door, but until then, if someone wanted to
get into her house, they'd wake her up doing it.

Knowing she had an
extra barrier of defence, she took her small blade along with her
phone back to her bedroom with her. She then propped another chair
under the handle of that door. An extra layer of obstacles never
hurt.

Despite the
precautions, Amelia felt wide awake once she was curled up under
her duvet again. More than once, an errant sound made her open her
eyes, but nothing of importance happened, and eventually her own
tiredness conquered the lingering fear.

Another email made
the laptop bing and disturbed Mycroft from his reading. In the last
half hour, he'd put together the final pieces of his negotiating
material with Kendel. As Mycroft opened the tab with his emails on,
he noticed his younger brother had finally chipped in on the case
as well.

Found some
twitter pictures. Attached for your reference. There's at least two
mistresses.

Mycroft sighed,
satisfied that Kendel would cooperate with him.

“Take us to the
reporter's house, Daniels. We're done.”

“Yes, sir.”
Daniels started the car engine up again and pulled out of the
little woodland parking space he'd found for Mycroft to sit and
work in peace and quiet. As Mycroft's stomach rumbled, he realised
it was long gone dinner time, and neither he nor the chauffeur had
eaten anything since breakfast.

Just like his
younger brother, he tended to forgo eating while working on
something important, but unlike the junior Holmes sibling, it
hadn't helped him stay slim. If anything, it appeared to do the
opposite. When he did eat, his body stored as much as possible as
fat.

He put food out of
his mind and prepared himself for the next meeting. It couldn't go
wrong this time. The final article would need to go to print in the
next couple of hours. For now, only he and Amelia knew what the new
day's headline would be.

Feeling confident,
Mycroft got out of the car and knocked at the front door of the
four-bedroom detached house the reporter lived in with his wife and
kids. A minute later Kendel answered.

“I thought I made
it clear that you aren't changing my mind,” Kendel said and tried
to slam the door. Mycroft stuck his arm out and held it open.
Despite the reporter's best efforts, it remained where it was.

“I mean it. Sod
off.”

“Not until we've
had a quick chat about your wife. And perhaps Melissa and Edith as
well.” Mycroft kept his tone even and quiet, and his expression
impassive. The best threats were never said as if they were
threats.

“Who is it?” a
woman's voice called from somewhere deeper in the house,
reinforcing the peril Kendel was in. His eyes widened like a deer's
in headlights before he frowned and gave Mycroft his best
scowl.

“Just come have a
talk with me, Mr Kendel. I'm sure it won't take long.” Mycroft felt
the pressure of the door against his arm ease up, and then Kendel
nodded.

“All right. But
this'd better be quick.”

Mycroft took a
step backwards and moved out of view of the inside of the
house.

“Gary's car has
broken down. He needs some help getting it back to his place. I
won't be long,” Kendel said, loudly enough that his wife would be
able to hear from inside the house.

Without waiting to
see if Kendel followed, Mycroft headed back to the car. He hung
back so Daniels could open the door for both him and the reporter.
After all, appearances played a big part in these sorts of
negotiations. Thankfully, Daniels also had the good sense not to
ask where to go but drove off and took a country lane out of the
area.

Mycroft handed
Kendel Amelia's replacement article first.

“What's this?”
Kendel asked after a brief glance.

“It's what you're
going to submit instead of the article you've been working on. I
think you'll find it satisfies the criteria.”

“But I didn't
write it. Who did?”

“Someone who fully
expects to see your name on it tomorrow. It might even be the best
article you've ever written.”

Kendel looked it
over for a few minutes and Mycroft could soon tell the man was
impressed. His little disciple could at least write well.

“What if I still
prefer my article?” Kendel asked when he'd finished skim-reading
the piece.

“I think we both
know you don't already. But just in case you need a little extra
incentive, there's this.” Mycroft handed over a small cheque. It
wasn't as much as they'd given the initial source to stay quiet,
but Kendel would also get paid for the article so it didn't need to
be.

“And, of course,
if you don't choose this new article, I think your wife would be
very interested to find out about this twitter account, as well as
this extra credit card and, well, these photos.”

One by one,
Mycroft handed over the documentation to back up everything he'd
just mentioned. For several months, and in one case just over a
year, Kendel had been pretending to be other men in order to pick
up different women. His wife was oblivious to the adultery, as well
as the debt the extravagant alter egos had racked up. On top of
that, Kendel wasn't legally entitled to be married to his current
wife because he was still married to his previous wife under yet
another name and owed the first wife a substantial amount for
selling their house and taking the entire proceeds.

“Now these
documents can go back where they came from, or they can be sent to
the woman you currently have as your wife. I also think the police
might be interested in one or two of them. But it's entirely up to
you, Mr Kendel.”

“You don't mess
around, do you?” Kendel said after a few seconds.

Mycroft smiled.
The rest of the meeting was inevitable. Kendel sighed and accepted
the new article and cheque.

A few minutes
later, Daniels was letting Kendel out of the car and Mycroft was
tucking a signed agreement into his jacket pocket. The reporter and
the source had both been silenced. As Kendel went inside his house,
Daniels waited by the car door, leaving it shut to keep the heat
in.

A few seconds
later the reporter appeared with several pieces of paper, some
loose pages from a notebook and a small USB stick. He handed all of
them to Daniels while Mycroft watched through the one-way glass
window.

“Home, sir?”
Daniels asked once Kendel had gone and Mycroft had everything the
man had handed over on his lap.

“Yes, back to
London.”

Mycroft knew his
work wouldn't quite be over. Kendel was sly enough that he'd try to
hide some electronic copy of the document somewhere, like a phone
or external hard drive, but Mycroft would make sure it was deleted
the next time either connected to anything Kendel browsed the
internet with. As long as the Prime Minister and his MPs didn't do
anything stupid over the next few months, Scotland should remain
part of the UK.

Satisfied, he
turned his mind to other tasks and emails he'd received throughout
the day. His work was never done.

***

It took Amelia a
moment to gather her thoughts when she first woke up. The sun shone
brightly but she could tell the room was cold. Fighting the urge to
snuggle back down into the warm duvet, she flung back the covers
and swung her legs out of the bed.

Noticing the chair
propped under the door brought back memories of the previous night.
She yawned as she felt a small amount of relief. Whoever had broken
into her kitchen the first time hadn't disturbed her again.

Despite it now
being day time, she hesitated to open her bedroom door. Just
because they hadn't come into her bedroom didn't mean they weren't
somewhere else in the house.

By the time she'd
been to the bathroom and put the kettle on, she was laughing at her
behaviour. No one had come into the house a second time.

After eating a
light breakfast, she returned her dining chairs to their usual
location and went to fetch the bag she kept her gi and gym clothes
in. Saturday morning was always her favourite lesson time with Tom.
They took two hours over it rather than only one, and he was
usually in a better mood.

As she picked up
her bag from the closet in the spare room, she noticed a strange
wooden box right beside it. That hadn't been there two days
earlier. She frowned and picked it up. As she did, an envelope that
must have been lightly fixed to the bottom floated to the
floor.

She laughed aloud
as she realised whoever had broken in last night had been from
Myron. Instead of them stealing something, they'd left her
something. She also felt relief that she hadn't messaged Myron to
ask him what to do about a possible burglar. It wouldn't have gone
down well.

The wooden box was
plain pine, sanded smooth, with a small digital display on the
front. It had a picture of a locked padlock in the centre and a
small arrow off to the left.