The Hundred Year Wait (3 page)

“If I publish it
what would happen?” she asked, wanting more time to think but not
wanting Myron waiting in silence.

“I will be forced
to stop you. I'm sure I can find some reason to have you
incarcerated, even if I have to plant the evidence.”

“I don't mean to
me. What are you trying to prevent by stopping me?” Her words were
met with silence and she had to wait for him to process the
request. She guessed he wasn't expecting it.

“At least two of
our agents would be endangered as well as months of planning at
best. And at worst, we would find ourselves at war with
North-Korea.”

“Then of course I
won't publish it.” She smiled at him and he nodded his gratitude.
“I would never deliberately put lives in danger, especially British
lives.”

“Thank you.”

“I do have a
request, however.”

“Go on,” Myron
replied, although the severity of his tone made her wonder if he
meant it. She carried on anyway.

“Can I re-write
the novel with guidance on what needs changing? It's a lot of work
to discard completely, not to mention the financial
implications...”

“I'm sure you can
be
helped
with sales to make up for the loss,” he assured
her, interrupting.

“Thank you, but
I'd rather know I've truly earnt my sales. I'd prefer to re-write
the story. It would also give me an excuse to talk to you again.”
She closed her mouth around the last words, shocked she'd said
them.

“My assistant will
liaise with you, not me.” He gave her the same fake smile as he'd
given her on parting the day before. She shrugged. She'd taken one
plunge but it appeared to have gone unnoticed. Something had to
happen before she got to her destination or she'd always feel like
she wasted an opportunity.

“Shame. Although,
you can't blame a girl for trying.”

“Trying what?”
Myron raised both eyebrows again.

“I've decided that
I like you, Mr Holmes.”

“That will soon
change. Most people find me unpleasant,” he replied and gave her
yet another fake smile. It was meant to put her off but it just
made her more keen to get him to genuinely smile.

“It's too late for
that. I'm a very loyal person and I've already made my mind up. I
like you.”

Myron turned away
from her and shook his head. She bit her lip knowing she'd gone too
far too soon. Now she needed to try and pull it back. Thoughts of
conversation starters ran through her head but none of them came
out of her mouth.

“You appear to no
longer be nervous,” Myron pointed out, giving her another way
in.

“I have company
and...” she tapped her knuckles on the window. “tinted glass. I
can't be seen until I get out. I find it hard to know what to say
to my fans. Most of them are smart and socially adept enough that I
find them easy to talk to, but a few I struggle with...”

“Are you trying to
relate to me, Miss Jones?” he interrupted.

“I was simply
trying to explain my nerves. I have a responsibility to them when I
do these events. When I fail to make a connection with them I run
the risk of making them feel invisible, and if they already feel
low... I suppose I appreciate them in their own way.” She shook her
head, struggling to explain and already aware she'd said far more
than she'd intended to in trying to cover up the real reason for
her increased pulse.

“Or your nerves
were unrelated to your upcoming public appearance. You've made more
of an effort about your attire than yesterday as well.” He looked
smug but didn't give her full eye contact for her to tell if he
minded. She found herself chuckling. Both him and his brother were
more observant than she stood any chance of getting around, so she
decided to stop trying to fool him then and there.

“What I said is
true, mostly, but you're also right,” she paused to take a deep
breath. “I have another request to make if I may?”

“I think you've
already said enough, Miss Jones.”

“Just hear me out.
I think I've cooperated enough to earn that.”

“All your
cooperation earnt you was your continued freedom. I've already made
a concession in allowing you to try and rescue your novel. I will
not be making any more.” His every word bit into her but she
ignored it anyway.

“I want to learn
from you. I know your brother isn't as clever as you and I'm not
even at his level, but I'd like a chance to be,
entertaining
.”

“No. You may like
me, Miss Jones, but the feeling isn't mutual. I've never met a
woman I've liked.”

“I'm not asking
you to have me as a friend, but you're the best. I'd really like to
learn from you... Think of it like having a pet.” As soon as she
finished speaking she wished she'd thought of a better word. A pet
implied more than she wanted it to.

“A pet?” He
sneered.

“Yes, like a cat
or dog. You can teach me some simple things for your
amusement.”

“So you get access
to my mind, and all I get is
amusement
?” The knuckles on his
left hand whitened as he tightened his grip on the umbrella
handle.

“You get a loyal
pet and you can teach me what you choose. If you find I'm not quick
enough at picking things up you can stop.” She bit her lip, hoping
she'd explained herself well enough.

“A pet, also
implies ownership.”

“Yes, that's where
the analogy falls down. I admit, it's not a perfect example of what
I mean.”

Her words were
greeted with silence and his disdain was evident on his face.

“No, Miss Jones,
as entertaining as it might be for a few minutes, I am not
interested in the idea.” Myron's words were said so crisply she
knew it was pointless to continue. She'd done all she could and
saying more wouldn't win her any more favours. She'd have to hope
Sebastian put in a good word for her and tipped Myron over from a
no to a maybe.

While the car wove
through the last few streets, she ran their conversation through
her head, hoping to glean some information from it. During this, it
dawned on her that not even his brother had a copy of the newest
novel. Myron or his people had hacked into her computer. He could
have deleted it himself and told her she couldn't publish it.
Instead he'd told her himself and given her options. Something had
made him choose to see her again. The realisation made her suck in
her breath and her heart raced in her ears.

The car pulled up
outside the bookshop and ended any opportunity she might have to
explore her most recent thought. A line of fans stood in the rain,
waiting for her. She knew she couldn't keep them out there any
longer. It was time to say goodbye. She turned back to Myron to
find him staring at her, but not with an expression she could
read.

“Thank you for not
just deleting my novel, Mr Holmes, and thank you for the company.”
She considered putting her hand out to shake his but knew he
wouldn't accept it.

“Enjoy your
signing,” he replied and looked away.

“I'll try to,” she
replied as the door nearest her opened. After taking a second to
fix a smile to her face she got out. Instantly she was met with a
blast of cheering, clapping and people calling her name. The nerves
dropped from her with each step towards the foyer and each splatter
of rain that landed on her.

By the time she
was inside she had pushed Myron from her mind and focused on her
fans. Before she could want assistance a middle aged, blonde woman
in a knee length black skirt, plain shoes and jumper came gliding
towards her. Amelia glanced at the name badge pinned to her chest.
Sue was the manager.

“Amelia, you're
early. Why don't you come to the staff room for a few minutes and
have a hot drink before we start?” Sue didn't wait for her to reply
but took several steps towards the side of the shop. She stopped
when she realised Amelia wasn't following. Instead Ameila gazed
across the open foyer, taking in all the details. A table was set
up to one side with a soft chair, pens and a poster of her latest
book announcing the start time of the signing.

“No. It's raining
and there are people outside without umbrellas. I'll get started
right away.” Amelia smiled to take the edge off her words, but the
manager still frowned at being overruled. This wasn't according to
Sue's plan and Amelia knew she would have to re-adjust the plan
herself. She shook hands with the two clerks who came up to her,
both realising this was their cue.

“Let's get as many
people out of the rain as we can. Have them form a queue from the
table and around the edge,” she said to a young man barely old
enough to be out of school. He hurried off so she turned to the
girl who stood beside Sue, eagerly awaiting further instruction.
“And...” She trailed off as Myron walked past her. She blinked and
stood with her mouth open, unsure why she would see him inside the
shop. Sue coughed.

“Sorry, ummm...
Why don't you find the people in the queue who need to buy their
books here. Get them to buy them while they wait and form a second
queue I can prioritise.” The girl nodded and hurried off to join
her companion, leaving her with Sue who still looked like she could
murder someone.

“Why don't you get
back to your normal work. I have everything I need and can handle
the crowds. I'm sure you'd rather be looking after your shop than
having to keep an eye on me,” Amelia said, giving her the warmest
smile she could manage. They shook hands and Amelia found she had a
few moments to survey the area while people rushed around her,
enacting her suggested changes.

Almost immediately
her eyes found Myron, who sat at a table in the cafe area, staring
at her. She gave him a smirk and turned her back on him to switch
her attention to her fans. He could watch her if he wanted.

The waitress
disturbed Mycroft as she brought him the tea he'd ordered. As soon
as she was gone he looked back at Miss Jones. When he'd warned her
not to publish her novel he'd expected far more resistance.
Creative types didn't tend to respond well to being censored in any
way. Yet she'd acquiesced, and she'd been clever enough to realise
he could have deleted it and bypassed obtaining her cooperation
altogether. It didn't mean she was of an exceptional level of
intelligence but at least somewhat observant and rational.

Her proposal had
also been unexpected. When she'd first told him she liked him, he'd
thought it would lead to being asked out on a date. A request to be
his student in a sort of pet like way showed more understanding of
his attitude and temperament than most people grasped. Although
he'd refused without hesitation, he found himself considering her
suggestion. He could find out how clever she was, while keeping
himself amused, and discard her when he was no longer entertained.
Her pet analogy was flawed but it did hold some sensible ideas. A
pet was more loyal than a normal student.

Watching her
handle the booksellers and then her fans also proved interesting.
She picked up on their characters with speed, using the information
they subconsciously gave away to relate to them and make them feel
special. He'd only ever watched his brother do it better, although
both missed signs he'd picked up on.

After an hour of
tirelessly greeting, signing and having her picture taken, she
asked for a break. For the fifth time since he'd sat down she
glanced his way and he expected her to come over and berate him for
distracting her, but she didn't. Instead she walked out of the shop
and into the rain.

He got to his
feet, wanting to see over the tables and work out what she was up
to. Outside, his car still sat, and his chauffeur stood under the
large black umbrella, waiting for him to return. Amelia went right
up to him, sheltering herself under the same black dome and started
up a conversation. Again she'd managed to surprise him.

A few minutes
later she came back inside and Daniels followed, keeping her dry
all the way. Mycroft sat again so they wouldn't notice his interest
in them. He assumed the gesture was just his driver being a
gentleman but he came with her all the way to her table, got her to
sign one of her books and then took it to the sales desk to pay for
it.

It didn't take
Daniels long but Miss Jones was back to her carousel of greet,
sign, and pose, before his chauffeur was back by the car, the book
in a small carrier bag tucked under his arm. He waited for Miss
Jones to get back into her flow and decided it was time to leave.
Picking a moment when she would be so absorbed with signing a book
that she wouldn't notice, he got up and left. His chauffeur had the
good graces to look sheepish about leaving the car unattended for a
few minutes.

“Don't make a
habit of it,” Mycroft said. The greying man nodded. “Also, I'd like
to borrow that book. I want to check something.”

“Of course, sir.”
Daniels passed the carrier bag to him as Mycroft was getting into
the car.

Once they were on
their way back to his house Mycroft pulled the book from its
wrappings.

“Naive,” he
whispered, reading the title, “This should be interesting.”
Curious, he flicked to the first page and read.

Mycroft next
looked up when the car halted outside his home. Forty-five pages of
the novel had absorbed his attention and stopped him from noticing
what was normally a chore to endure.

“I'll keep hold of
this for a few hours,” Mycroft said before entering the front door
of his stately home. He placed his umbrella in the usual stand by
the door and sat on the small stool to swap his shoes for
slippers.

By the time he
entered his study, a tray with fresh, hot, tea and biscuits was
waiting on one side of his desk, slightly covering the green
leather inlaid on the top of the oak.