The Unexpected Coincidence (8 page)

When the train
grew busier and a man sat down beside her she had to stifle a
squeal, but it wasn't him, just another weary traveller in a
business suit. Something about his eyes looked familiar, but not
enough for her to think she'd seen him before He smiled at her and
she tried to reciprocate before turning to the window and finding
the scenery fascinating.

Once she'd got
used to him being there and showing no interest in her, it had made
her feel safer. Guy couldn't plonk himself down next to her if
someone else was there, but now they'd arrived in London he could
appear from anywhere. The next person who rounded the corner in
front of her could be him, or he could sneak up on her from behind,
lost in the masses of people until he was close. Her only comfort
was the audience the other passengers provided.

She spent the next
twenty minutes making her way through the underground system,
frightened about being alone in case Guy found her and tried to
abduct her, and panicked about seeing other people in case he used
them as shields to get to her. Every time she saw a coat of a
similar beige to Guy's she bit down on her lip and stared at the
wearer until she was convinced it wasn't him.

Once at the right
stop, she hurried to the surface and found the nearest taxi. Only
when she was sat in the back and the driver was already making his
way to the road next to Myron's did she begin to relax. Guy
couldn't get to her before she was safe with Myron now. The taxi
wouldn't stop until she told the driver to.

It took another
twenty minutes for the car to get the three miles from the tube
stop to the neighbourhood Myron lived in, bringing her total
journey time to over four hours. She checked her phone one last
time, concerned that he hadn't called her back or even messaged,
but it didn't deter her from her goal. Hopefully he would forgive
her for turning up at his house unannounced. She'd done everything
she could to let him know in advance.

Ten minutes later
she was still walking down the road he lived on, confused by the
houses. It had only been nine weeks since she'd stayed the night at
his house, but now she wasn't sure which one was his. So many of
them looked alike, set back in the trees with large gates and
sweeping drives.

A few hundred
metres down the road she spotted one on the other side that was
wider than the others and set back a little farther. Her feet
hurried her over to the front gate and the refuge she finally
recognised. She'd fought back panic from so many little reasons
that she was tiring from the effort, and as she stopped by the
buzzer she realised she was exhausted and starving.

“Hello?” a male
voice said a few seconds after she buzzed.

“Daniels?”

“Yes? Who is
this?”

“Amelia Jones. I
need Myron's help. He should know why,” she said, hoping the
chauffeur would take that as a good enough explanation. She didn't
know what Myron would let his employees know. Daniels didn't reply
but the gate swung open and she slipped through the gap as soon as
it was wide enough to admit her, checking over her shoulder one
last time.

The familiar car
was sat across the front porchway of the house, forcing her to go
around the back of it. By the time she got to the front door
Daniels stood there, preventing her from seeing inside the
house.

“Can I see Myron,
please?” she asked.

“He's not
expecting you, is he?” Daniels asked, frowning and not moving out
of the way.

“No, but I tried
to phone him, several times. He has been helping me with something
and it's taken a turn for the worse. I really need to see him.”
Amelia gave Daniels her most pleading look.

“He's not
here.”

“Oh!” She furrowed
her brow, not sure what to do and feeling the tightness return to
her stomach. She didn't think she could simply leave again. “Where
is he?”

“I don't think
he'd want me to tell you that.” Daniels looked away and she could
tell that he wanted to help her. She bit her lip and looked more
worried.

“I really need to
find him. If you won't help me, I'll have to try and get to him
another way. Maybe his brother will...”

“All right, get in
the car. I'll take you to him.” Daniels relented and walked towards
the car door to open it for her.

“Thank you,” she
replied, barely above a whisper. With a sigh, she sank into the
back seat of Myron's car. In here no one would hurt her. She was
safe, and it even smelt faintly of Myron's cologne. For the first
time since leaving the hotel that morning she let the tension drain
from her body.

From the inside of
a hidden space the world didn't seem so terrifying. The sight of a
beige coat still sent a flutter through her stomach, but seeing Guy
wouldn't mean she was in danger right then. No one but Daniels
could see her, tucked up in the back of the large black car.

Eventually Daniels
pulled up on the gravel drive of a large stately manor house. On
the way in she'd seen signs proclaiming the place to be the
Diogenes Club, but she'd never heard of it before.

She caught a
glance at a similar sign near the entrance to the building and
noticed one of the founding men had been a Holmes. Without waiting
for Daniels to come around to her and let her out, she pushed the
door open.

“I won't be long,”
she called over her shoulder.

“Amelia, I'm not
sure... I should go in and let Myron know you're here.”

She ignored
Daniels and hurried through the massive wooden double doors that
stood ajar, and had to stop herself gaping at the grand stone
entranceway with its large sweeping split staircase. It was like a
house from a fairy tale. A butler came hurrying up to her, his eyes
wide with an edge of panic.

Not quite sure why
she might be scaring him, she quickly scanned over her attire. She
was dressed well, as she always ensured whenever the chance to see
Myron was there.

“I need to see
Myron Holmes,” she said when he came closer. This seemed to only
worsen the matter. He appeared to choke and his eyes grew even
wider. Realising he would be of no help to her, she tried to walk
right past him and called Myron's name. Daniels pulled on her arm
and drew her attention back behind her but he was no longer looking
at her, and he also appeared as if he was about to have some sort
of panic attack. She followed his gaze and saw that Myron had
appeared to one side of the staircase, by a door that had looked
like part of the wall the last time she'd seen it. He motioned with
one hand for her to approach. Daniels let go of her and the butler
moved out of her way.

“Myron,” she said
with delight. She hurried over to him, her boots clicking rapidly
on the marble floor. As she got closer she noticed that he was
clenching his jaw and shaking with barely contained rage. She
stopped in front of him, suddenly finding she couldn't speak. He
was more angry than she'd ever seen him, and the way he stared at
her made it obvious the reason was her.

Mycroft pointed at
the room to one side of him, hoping Amelia would hurry up and get
inside before he dragged her in there. In all his years at the
club, such an embarrassing incident had never occurred because of
him. Not even Watson had made such a blunder.

Some level of
understanding seemed to finally come to her as she walked into the
room before him and held her gloved hands demurely in front of her.
She stopped in the middle of the room while he pulled the door
closed and made sure it made no sound.

Once it was closed
and providing them with an insulated bubble to make noise within,
he strode around to his side of the desk but found he couldn't sit
down.

“What the hell do
you think you're doing?” he said, his voice even and clipped, but
full of the emotion he felt.

“I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to...”

“Not only is this
a gentlemen's club and you are most decidedly not male, but this is
also a silent club. You've made more noise in less than a minute
than is heard here in a whole year.

“I really am
sor...”

“And on top of all
that, I distinctly remember telling you not to contact me in any
way that could be noticed or discovered by others. Everyone here
just heard you were looking for me.”

Amelia finally
shut her mouth again and stopped trying to apologise. He thought
this would be an improvement until he saw her eyes water with the
threat of tears. He let out a disgusted growl and turned his back
on her. Trying to keep all the rage within him from boiling over
and making him explode into an angry tirade, he closed his eyes and
focused on smoothing out his breathing.

When he felt
calmer he faced Amelia again and found she was doing the same
thing. One tear had escaped and tracked down her cheek, but she was
standing, shaking and fighting with her breathing. Impressively,
she appeared to be regaining control.

He sneered as the
small amount of respect he couldn't help but feel flared his temper
once more.

“Explain,” he
said, snapping his mouth shut over the word. Her eyes flew open but
she didn't speak. Instead, she swallowed and looked down at his
desk.

“I found another
letter this morning.”

“At the hotel?”
She shook her head and then nodded. He raised an eyebrow, not
willing to play games. “Spit it out.”

“I found it at the
hotel, but it was in my handbag, and he could only have put it in
there last night. It was angry, and hinted at violence.”

A shiver ran
through her and he felt his face sneering once more.

“You're scared,”
he said, not phrasing it like it was a question. He hoped his
disgust at the emotion was evident.

“Yes. He could
hurt me, if he tried.”

“And you think
I'll protect you?” He didn't hide his scorn at her assumption.

Shock widened her
eyes and she took a step back as if he'd slapped her. He
immediately regretted mocking her instinct to run to him, which
only made him angrier. Not once had he ever softened towards
someone, and he didn't want to start now.

Silence filled the
room again, something normally comfortable in this place, but not
while she stood there, full of emotion. While he watched her, she
opened and closed her mouth several times, but he didn't want to
relieve her awkwardness and speak even if he'd known what to
say.

“I bumped into Guy
Thomas,” she said, finally speaking.

“No. I've already
told you. It can't possibly be him.”

“I was followed to
dinner last night.”

“It was my man. He
said he thought you saw him.” He expected this to comfort her, but
her breathing only quickened.

“Then how did Guy
know to be there? How did...”

“Oh, for Christ's
sake, even I knew you were going to be there. Ms Brent advertised
it all over her social media.”

Amelia frowned but
didn't back down.

“I know it's him,
Myron. He's the only person who's been there every time. You're
wrong, you have to...”

“Enough,” Mycroft
yelled.

She was stunned
into silence, but it was too little too late. He fought to lower
his voice to say one last thing.

“Get. Out.”

For just a second,
she hesitated, searching his face, but then she fled and he heard
the clattering of her soles on the hard floor as she ran from the
club. He faced the wall again, shaking uncontrollably.

It was bad enough
that she'd been so foolish as to come straight to him, but to let
her fear get the better of her so completely that she would accuse
him of being wrong? Their agreement was over. He hoped he never saw
her again, but he knew he also needed to reprimand Daniels.

As soon as he
could be sure he would appear dignified, Mycroft followed in
Amelia's footsteps outside, making no noise in comparison to her
hurricane of sound.

When he stepped
outside, Daniels had just shut the car door on Amelia. He couldn't
see if she was looking at him or not but he didn't care if she
was.

“I'm sorry, sir. I
tried to keep her in the car and fetch you but she got past me,”
Daniels said, knowing he was in trouble too. Although the
chauffeur's actions had contributed to the problem, he knew the man
had never made a mistake like it and wouldn't ever again.

“You should never
have brought her here, but most importantly, I should never have
let her stay in my house. You'll take her home once more, Daniels,
but it will be the last time.”

“Yes, sir. Of
course, sir.”

He watched them
pull away before he walked back into the club. When he got back to
his room, a brandy decanter and glass had appeared on one side of
his desk. The butler knew him well.

Over the next few
minutes he sipped a large helping of the drink, feeling its warmth
in his stomach. When he had settled back into the calm of the
club's atmosphere, he managed to turn his mind to other matters. He
reached for his phone to send a message to the agent he'd had
following Amelia to find his agent had already contacted him to let
him know she was scared by something and on her way to London. The
agent also pointed out that her publisher had postponed several
events in Amelia's schedule for the next few days.

Mycroft frowned,
feeling a flicker of doubt at sending her away. A moment later he'd
crushed it and reassigned the agent to help locate the Russian and
Korean men still roaming the capital of London. With that done, he
also informed Daniels to come back to the club once he was done
with Miss Jones. Only so much thinking could be done without him
actively pursuing a new lead. Hopefully Sherlock would have visited
the owners of the stolen boat and found a pathway or piece of
information that shone some light on who was running or funding
this splinter-cell of terrorists.