The Hundred Year Wait (11 page)

“Understood, sir.
Anything else?”

“No, thank you.
Just get those done as soon as you can.”

Mycroft hung up
and then put the towel around his own shoulders. At the very least
it covered his chest from view, something he'd never particularly
liked showing off. He glanced at Amelia and saw her look away
hastily. A tear tracked slowly down her right cheek and her chin
quivered with the emotions she was fighting to restrain.

By now he'd
expected more fuss from her so the solitary tear came as a relief,
assuming she could continue to hold herself together. He wouldn't
have thought the restraint she currently showed possible if he
wasn't already witnessing it.

“She's going into
shock. Can you make her a cup of tea with plenty of sugar. Not too
hot.”

The man nodded. He
evidently had no idea what else to do for the pair of them. As soon
as he scurried off to obey Mycroft's request, Mycroft called
Sherlock to let his brother know where he was.

It took several
more rings for his brother to answer.

“Sherlock,” he
said before he thought about it and almost swore.

“Mycroft, where
have you been? I've had to command your little team of agents for
the last few hours, and your chauffeur has been phoning me every
five minutes to see if I've heard from you.”

“We're all right.
Thank you for your concern. It's going to be a few hours until I'm
back in London. Can you leave my team to ensure the barriers are in
working order and find some people for me?”

“Of course. I
assume you and Amelia ran into some difficulty with the North
Koreans?”

“Yes. There's
three of them. They jumped us at the Thames Barrier. They're on the
database and armed, so be careful. Let me know when they've been
apprehended.”

“As you wish,
brother of mine.”

Mycroft hung up
again and this time he put the phone down on the side and went over
to Amelia. She still kept her mouth clamped down over her emotions
but no more tears had shown themselves and her eyes were less wide
and watery. He was also relieved to see she no longer shivered. The
farm kitchen was warm and dry.

“Are you in pain?”
he asked. She shook her head but didn't open her mouth to speak
until the farmer came over with a large mug of tea for her. She
took it in both hands and cradled it to her.

“Thank you,” she
said, barely above a whisper. Mycroft noticed the slight shake in
her voice but doubted the guy had. He accepted the second cup the
farmer had made and sat down at the table beside her.

“I'll go make
myself decent, if you'll both be all right for a few minutes?”

Mycroft nodded at
the man's sense. Very soon his house would be inundated with police
and hopefully a doctor to check Amelia over. While they were alone
together Mycroft did just that, although he remained seated and she
didn't notice. He started with her hands, noticing the blood had
been washed off her fingernails and none of them looked to be worse
off than a few chips here and there. All of them were firmly
attached.

His gaze then
moved to Amelia's wrists. The sea water had washed them as well,
but rather than cleaning them off, they were now swollen and red,
especially where the ropes had rubbed her skin so badly she'd bled.
He suspected she'd lied when she said she was in no pain.

From his seat
beside her he couldn't see the soles of her feet, but noticed no
drops of blood on the floor. Her thin tights were ripped and he
could see the smears of blood on the tattered heals. They would
need cleaning and she would struggle to walk for a day or two, but
he doubted it would be any worse.

“What now?” she
said as she put her empty mug down on the table. When he didn't
respond she finally looked at him. Every feature was as calm as
usual.

“The police will
be here soon and then you need medical attention,” he explained,
assuming she hadn't heard the phone calls he'd made. Considering
the blunder he'd made with his brother's name, he was pleased to
find she'd not been paying attention.

“After that, are
we going back to London to try to stop them again?”

“My driver will
take us back, yes, unless you want to go home to Bath?”

“No,” she replied
before he'd even finished saying her home city's name. “I'd rather
come to London. I can still help.”

“You can barely
walk.” Although he admired her determination he knew she couldn't
be allowed to risk her life any more. He'd already exposed her too
much.

“I know, but I'd
still like to do what I can to help, even if I have to do so from a
chair.”

“Let's start with
getting back to London, shall we? By the time we get there, my
brother may have already found the culprits and solved everything.”
He gave her his usual smile. A part of him hoped his brother wasn't
quite so efficient, while the rest of him hoped Sherlock was.
Amelia had been through enough. Until he could be sure she wasn't
going to break down, he had to ensure she was unexposed to more
danger.

He didn't have a
chance to find out whether Amelia understood his reasons or not.
The farmer came back downstairs with jeans and a short sleeved
shirt on and less than a minute later the police showed up. Behind
them came two paramedics. They homed in on Amelia right away,
allowing Mycroft to talk in a low voice with the police and tell
them the events they needed to know.

The Commissioner
had already passed on a small amount of information and with the
other details Mycroft added, he convinced the police to give him
and Amelia some space and just keep an eye on the area in case the
Russians did manage to track them to the farmhouse. With that done,
he could go back to Amelia.

Already the
paramedics had cleaned and assessed the damage to her feet. The
younger, female paramedic was bandaging them while her older
colleague washed and checked over the rope burns on Amelia's
wrists. Amelia gave Mycroft a brief smile when he sat back down
beside her.

“There, all
patched up. You shouldn't walk too much for a day or two and keep
everything clean and dry. If anything starts to look infected go to
your GP and get it checked out,” the woman said and gave Amelia a
grin.

“Thank you.” As
soon as the paramedics were out the door, she flicked her gaze onto
Mycroft. “How long will your car be?”

“Half an hour, at
most.”

“Good, I'm a
little tired now.”

“You should have
slept more last night. I do believe I ordered you to,” he said,
teasing her a little. She looked down, as her cheeks flushed.

“I tried, I really
did.”

“I'm not
cross.”

Now that the
police and paramedics had left, the farmer hovered by the kitchen
sink. Mycroft left his charge where she was to go over to him.

“It's a long
journey to get her home. Do you have a blanket you wouldn't mind
parting with for a few days?”

The farmer nodded
and rushed off yet again. When he returned he had a patchwork
woollen blanket in his hands.

“Thank you. I'll
see this is returned to you and you're suitably reimbursed for your
help. I appreciate your cooperation with this... predicament.”

Dismissing the man
with a nod, Mycroft took the blanket over to Amelia and insisted on
wrapping her in it. She tried to tell him she didn't need it but he
ignored her anyway.

“Do as you're
told, Amelia,” he said, and looked her in the eyes.

“As you
command.”

He sat down again,
pleased to notice the sparkle in her eyes that accompanied her
words. Emotionally she appeared to be recovering already. Satisfied
that he'd done all he could and wouldn't be needed until his car
arrived, Mycroft sat back and closed his eyes. He knew it would
appear as if he was napping, but he wanted to go back in his
memories and look again at the Thames Barrier area as well as the
North Koreans who had ambushed them. Any extra information he could
drag up from his memory could be useful.

Amelia fought
against the waves of sleep that threatened to roll over her. She
felt very warm and snug, wrapped from head to bandaged feet in a
blanket and towel. It was a stark contrast from the earlier
cold.

Beside her Myron
sat and waited for his car to come fetch them both, and, still
fidgeting in his own kitchen, the farmer tried to make himself
busy, cleaning a speck here and there, and rearranging the
counter-top utensils.

This day had been
the most eventful of her life but she tried not to think too much
about it. While Myron was with her she felt safe and it made it
easier to be calm. Throughout the whole abduction, and then in
their escape, he had remained stable and constant. It had helped
her keep herself going when she'd wanted to just curl up and
pretend none of it was happening.

She couldn't
decide if the swim had been the worst part or the walk afterwards.
While on the boat, she'd known as she was working herself free that
no one appeared particularly interested in her and afterwards she'd
been buzzed with enough adrenaline she'd functioned without
thinking. It wasn't until she'd had to face the cold sea and the
threat of nature that fear had found her.

To keep herself
going she'd told herself it would impress Myron. Every moment since
she'd first been grabbed she'd kept her mind dwelling on what she
could gain by being strong. The positive focus had made it easier
to keep her emotions from overwhelming her. Although, shock had
caught up with her when she'd realised it was over and she was safe
again. The desire to cry and wail had welled up inside her so
fiercely she'd struggled to contain it. Crying had its place, and
she knew she would need to do so at some point soon, but now wasn't
the time. She needed to keep quiet and keep focused until the
terrorists were stopped.

If she moved too
suddenly pain shot through her feet and wrists, so she tried to
stay still, but she'd never been much good at it. Sleep would be
the best healer but her desire to know what was happening, and help
where she could, kept her from succumbing to that idea.

To while away the
time she allowed herself to study Myron. So far he'd been very
tolerant of her curiosity and interference but she knew his
patience would have worn out had she not been the one to free them
while on the boat.

When he'd thought
they'd missed something he'd assumed the information she'd provided
had been wrong above everything else and she'd noticed his anger
about having her with him that morning, so she knew he didn't trust
her abilities yet. It helped that she'd studied his brother for
almost a year but he hadn't really shown her any compassion until
she was in the water and struggling to do as he asked. She could
only put it down to her self-control and the help she'd rendered
several minutes before.

Amelia had
expected the bond to be set right back at the beginning when he'd
seen the few tears she'd not contained but he'd ignored them and
acted like he hadn't noticed. Her only fear now was that he would
consider his life and work too dangerous for her. Sebastian had
given her those sorts of excuses once, but she'd been persistent
enough with him he'd eventually understood she would rather lead a
more exciting life.

It was about time
she led a life as interesting as the ones she wrote about in her
books, even if it meant she had to occasionally swim in the cold
sea and walk what felt like miles with bare feet and little on.
With any luck the events would help a relationship grow between her
and Myron. She couldn't think of much in her conduct in the last
twelve hours that could disappoint him.

In the last few
days she'd also decided it was time she moved on from her late
husband. As much as she'd been devoted to him at the time she
didn't want to be alone, and finally felt like she could stride out
and face the world again. With this thought, her eyes were drawn to
the wedding ring on her finger. If she'd had a pocket to put it in
she'd have removed it right then, but she didn't want to lose it.
Good memories were attached to it if nothing else.

A knock on the
farmhouse door startled her from her thoughts and instantly Myron
stood up. Feeling a little like a spare cog she didn't move, but
waited for one of the two men to find out who was there.

Relief flooded
through her when Daniels came into the kitchen and she could tell
the feeling was echoed in the chauffeur. He evidently had a
fondness for his employer. A fondness she knew she already shared.
In his hands was a small case. Myron took it and disappeared into
the downstairs toilet room. While they waited for him to come back
the farmer offered Daniels a drink but the chauffeur declined.
Amelia suspected he might have wanted to say yes but she knew
Myron. He wouldn't appreciate being held up at all once he
reappeared.

Daniels came and
checked on her instead, asking her a few simple questions. She gave
him answers using as few words as she could and felt grateful when
he took the hint and stopped asking her.

“Right, time we
went. Thank you for the hospitality and you have my apologies for
being kept from your bed. We'll leave you now, and as I said
earlier, you will be reimbursed,” Myron said as soon as he was back
in the kitchen. Already he looked back to his normal self, dressed
in a smart suit, with his polished shoes and perfectly knotted
tie.

After handing the
case back to his driver he came towards her and lifted her bundled
up body into his arms in such a way that she couldn't even remove
her arms to hold onto him. In this state he bore her outside and to
his car with Daniels hurrying to beat him to the door.

As soon as she was
shut up inside with him she felt the comfort of the familiar wash
over her and knew she could allow her body the sleep it craved.
While Myron used the extra phone his chauffeur had also thought to
bring, Amelia closed her eyes. For a few seconds the gentle drone
of his deep voice lingered in her mind but even that couldn't stop
her from drifting asleep.