The Ambitious Orphan (13 page)

He beat Amelia
back to the table, sitting down on the chair she'd just occupied
and helping himself to the platter of cooked food. The smell of
bacon normally let Amelia's stomach know it was time to eat but
instead she felt it roll and flip over, making her pause.

She covered the
feeling by pouring herself a drink of orange juice and sipping on
it for a few seconds. By the time she had put the glass back down
the younger Holmes was already tucking in and the elder had gone
back to whatever he was doing on the laptop.

Buying herself a
little time, she looked to her mentor as if she was waiting for
him. When he glanced at her and waved for her to go ahead, she
started picking out some bacon, scrambled eggs and mushrooms.

Before she was
done her stomach had flipped over another couple of times and she
wondered if she might be sick. If she'd been of the right
disposition she'd have thought she might be nervous about the
upcoming mission, but it couldn't be that.

Not wanting to
alarm Myron and make him think her unfit to go on their mission,
she took another mouthful of her orange juice and decided to offer
to plate him up some food. As Sebastian was already almost
finished, it might even have a good reason behind it.

She quickly voiced
the offer, knowing what he was likely to choose from the breakfasts
she'd had in his home. Myron appeared to have an alternate pattern
to what he ate in the mornings.

Sebastian raised
his eyebrows as Myron accepted, and she picked up the third plate,
but she ignored the curiosity. By the time she had taken the food
Myron would want from the central dish he'd finished what he was
doing and put the laptop to one side. The younger Holmes was also
eyeing up the leftovers.

“I won't eat any
more,” she said, knowing what he could be like when he ate, as
well.

“Fantastic.”
Sebastian needed no other encouragement, and it gave Amelia a
moment to herself to begin slowly chewing a small piece of bacon.
Her stomach accepted it without too much complaint, so she followed
it with another.

Although she ate
her breakfast a little slower than usual, by the time she was done
her stomach felt far more normal and neither Holmes had appeared to
notice. Myron was already back on his laptop and Sebastian was
standing out on the balcony watching the people on the beach.

“What is the plan
for today?” Amelia asked when she realised she had nothing to
do.

“Brother?” Myron
said, not even looking at her. Sebastian came back inside and
waited for the elder Holmes to continue. “Take Amelia down to the
harbour and look for Krylov's yacht. Also run through the plan in
the daylight with her. Come back and get some sleep in a few hours.
Once the maid has had time to come and clean the room.”

“What are you
going to do?” Amelia asked, not liking being ignored.

“I have other
matters to attend to, and I'm sure you can do what's necessary
without me.”

Myron turned back
to his laptop, and Amelia knew enough of his nature to leave him
alone. Thankfully, Sebastian strode to the door and held it open
for her to follow.

“The yacht's not
there,” she said as soon as they were able to see the right area of
the harbour.

“No, but it is
likely to be back. Come, we can go past the spot we need to swim
from. I'll stop and admire something so you know where it is.”

She nodded, not
entirely sure she needed it pointed out to her so blatantly, but
letting him teach her in his own way. Twenty minutes later she
stood outside one of the beach shops. They'd done everything Myron
had sent them out to do.

Sebastian looked
at his watch.

“Only ten. Still
too early to go back to the hotel. I hate waiting.” He looked out
at the passers-by as he spoke, evidently trying to keep his mind
occupied by working out who they were from what they were wearing
and doing. While considering doing the same, Amelia noticed the
nearest shop was selling wetsuits.

“The water is
pretty cold at night, isn't it?”

“Yes,” he replied,
following her gaze. “Buy it with cash.”

“I don't have
any.”

Sebastian pulled a
wad out of his trouser pocket and took off a few notes of the
island's main currency before handing it over.

“Should be enough.
Keep the change. I lifted the lot from our mutual friend.”

Amelia raised her
eyebrows and fought back the urge to laugh. Instead, she shook her
head. Before she could take more than a step towards the shop,
Sebastian spoke again.

“See you back at
the hotel. I'm going to find something to do.”

“You don't want
one as well?”

“No, we won't need
them, but you should definitely get one. Just stash it behind the
bush below our balcony.”

She nodded and
walked up to the selection of wet suits. It didn't take her long to
find one in her size, but it had pink arms so she continued
browsing. Three shops later she found one in a very dark grey and,
after taking a moment to think over Myron's reaction, she bought
it.

Realising she'd
probably been away from the hotel for long enough, she carried her
purchase back to the hotel gardens and waited for a good moment to
stow it out of sight. Hoping no one would come around the corner,
she shoved it down behind the bush and pulled the branches over to
help cover it.

With that done,
she hurried back to her hotel room, making sure she was seen by
some of the staff in the reception. When she walked into the suite
she noticed Myron was still sitting at the table, typing.

Taking out the
change, she placed it on the surface near him. Only then did he
look at her, the question on his face but unspoken.

“I bought a
wetsuit and stashed it in a bush. Here's your change. Your brother
swiped some money. No idea what he'll do with the rest.” With a
smile, she grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the bedroom.
“I'm going to get some sleep if I can. I'll be awake before we need
to leave.”

Myron still didn't
speak; instead, he went back to whatever he was doing on the
laptop. After setting an alarm, Amelia sank into the covers on the
bed and closed her eyes. She wasn't very sleepy given what they
were going to attempt to do that night, but she knew some rest
would help her concentrate later.

Ironically, she
found herself slipping into sleep easily. Ten minutes later she was
oblivious.

While Sherlock was
gone and Amelia was fast asleep on the bed, Mycroft had opted to
get some rest of his own. Shortly before nightfall, he made one
final trip to pick up the last piece of equipment.

With it safely
nestled in his pocket he walked back into the hotel suite. Sherlock
gave him a nod of acknowledgement, and Amelia smiled from her seat
at the table. Both were ready and waiting.

“We'll leave in
half an hour,” he said. Without waiting for a reply, he hurried
through to the bedroom, where he'd have some privacy, and fetched
the waterproof bag he planned to take with him on the mission.

He'd given Amelia
and Sherlock a waterproof torch each, but that meant he had the
only normal one. Thankfully, he also carried several bags that
could be easily attached to a belt. He slipped the gun he'd just
acquired inside, along with the torch already in there.

Once he'd changed
into more practical clothes for the mission, he attached the bag to
his belt and went back to the table. Amelia didn't look like she'd
moved, but Sherlock was pacing.

“Do you know what
you're doing?” he asked Amelia. She nodded, not doing a very good
job of hiding the slight shiver that ran through her, but she set
her jaw and he noticed the familiar steely look in her eyes.

Given everything
she'd already been through because of this Russian, he knew she'd
be likely to survive the mission. It wasn't ideal, and if the royal
family hadn't insisted she be officially trained he'd not have ever
taken her on something like this, but the decision he'd made to
teach her had led to this and he'd see it through to the end.

As they had the
night before, they slid down a rope tied to their balcony. The last
thing they wanted was for the hotel staff to realise they weren't
there. He sent Sherlock first, then Amelia, and by the time he
followed she was already pulling her wetsuit on.

He gave her a
quick nod of acknowledgement on the choice. Considering she was the
weaker swimmer and the one most likely to suffer from the cold
water, it had been a good piece of planning on her part. Another
sign she was as ready for something like this as she'd ever be.

Once she'd pulled
on the stretchy material and Sherlock had helped her zip up the
back, Mycroft led them over to the beach, each of them running from
the last available hiding place to the water alone.

Mycroft watched
Sherlock run across the gap first and lower himself soundlessly
into the water. Before he could motion for Amelia to follow, she'd
already checked the area and set off. She managed the distance a
little faster than his brother did, but in her overeagerness she
splashed the water. He could just imagine her wincing at her
mistake and then pulling an apologetic look at Sherlock.

After waiting a
little longer to make sure no one had heard Amelia's entrance into
the water and intended to see what might have caused it, Mycroft
also hurried across the gap, sat down, swung his legs over the side
of the pontoon and slid himself in.

As planned,
Sherlock and Amelia had already set off for the yacht, not waiting
and wasting energy. It also meant they would arrive at different
times, and if one of them was caught, decrease the chances of them
all being spotted.

With powerful
stroke after powerful stroke, he moved through the water towards
Krylov's yacht. The water was cold and the wind and incoming tide
had made it a little choppy, but even he was in good enough shape
that he could still make his way through it with ease.

It didn't take him
long to catch up with Amelia, however. Although she appeared to be
swimming far better than the first time they'd been in the water
together, her motions were still far less than efficient and she
was tiring before she was even half way.

For a few seconds
he considered taking her arms and looping them over his head as
he'd done before. While doing so, he matched her speed.

“Keep going,” she
whispered “I can make it without help. I'm warming up a bit
now.”

He didn't reply –
there was no point – but he found himself feeling pleased with her
once more. Even with her weaknesses, she was determined to get
better. It was more than a lot of people did once they became
adults.

It didn't take him
long to get past her, and he put her from his thoughts as he did.
The mission needed to be his focus now.

Sherlock was the
first to reach the yacht, and he swam around it, checking for the
guards they'd been forewarned of. He gave Mycroft a brief nod when
they were both treading water just off one side.

Not waiting for
Amelia, Mycroft lifted one hand out of the water and pointed
upwards. After watching his younger brother start the slow and
quiet climb up the side of the yacht he made his way to a matching
position on the other side and grabbed one of the boat's loose
mooring ropes to get to the top.

Knowing exactly
how quickly his younger brother would get to the main deck, he made
sure he hauled himself up fast enough that they matched their
arrival time.

As predicted, both
men sat crouched on opposite sides of the yacht at exactly the same
moment. It was also timed perfectly for them both to be behind the
two guards patrolling the deck of the ship.

Mirroring the
younger Holmes' movements, Mycroft crept up behind the nearby guard
and hit him over the back of the head with the torch. Almost
missing, he caught the unconscious man and helped him slide down
onto the deck instead of dropping with a thud.

Without waiting to
see if Sherlock had succeeded against his own guard, Mycroft ran
towards the helm. He had less than four seconds to get to the final
man on deck before he turned and noticed them.

Just as the armed
guard rotated, Mycroft brought the torch down on his head. He
slumped over onto the massive wooden helm between them, the wheel
catching his weight and holding it there.

Not long after
Mycroft had pulled the man down and hidden him inside a nearby
lifeboat, he noticed Amelia had caught up to them and was crouched
at the top of the ladder off the back. She was pulling out the
torch from the pocket on her wetsuit and watching him.

Sherlock soon
dragged over the other two unconscious men, and they started the
work of tying them up. Before they were done, Amelia joined them.
With shaking hands, she helped gag each man.

As soon as they
were finished, Mycroft turned his attention to the next task. He
ushered Amelia over to the main hatch so she could watch for anyone
who might come up that way while both he and Sherlock headed to the
crew hatch and the boat's array of controls.

With three guards
already incapacitated, it would leave another three guards, the
captain and two less dangerous crew members on the boat somewhere.
At this time of night Krylov should be in his bedroom sleeping and,
given that his family was currently in Russia, he would be
alone.

Not waiting to be
told what to do, Sherlock used his torch to look over the boat's
main power system and stopped the generator. The younger Holmes
pocketed the key that would get it going again. There was almost
certainly going to be another, but it would buy them time if
someone did get a chance to look at it.

As the power
fizzled out across the whole boat, they were plunged into darkness,
and all three of them flicked on their torches. A few seconds later
they heard the muffled shouts of men communicating down below. They
yelled in Russian and it was evident that Krylov hadn't been
asleep.