The Ambitious Orphan (8 page)

They slipped into
a companionable silence for the rest of the hour and seventeen
minutes that the driver took to get them to Buckingham Palace. As
they got close, he stole another glance at Amelia. Her eyes were
wide and her mouth was in danger of falling open as they pulled up
in the courtyard.

By the time they
both stood outside she'd composed herself well enough that few
people would notice her wonder at the surroundings. It was a good
attitude to have. The palace was a dangerous place to show your
true emotions.

They were led
inside and towards the sitting room Mycroft had occupied the last
time he was there. To help avoid a social faux pas on Amelia's
part, he waited for her to sit and then joined her on the sofa she
chose. If she'd chosen a different one to him it would have left
nowhere for the butler to sit and still follow the palace
etiquette.

Despite there
being two of them waiting, the butler didn't appear swiftly.
Fifteen minutes after they arrived, they were still sitting, far
too close for Mycroft's usual comfort, although Amelia was sitting
near one edge. Old sofas were never particularly wide.

“Do they often
keep you waiting?” Amelia whispered a minute later. He nodded.
“That must infuriate you. Don't they realise they shouldn't keep
you waiting?”

A twinkle appeared
in her eyes, and he saw the corners of her mouth twitch up. He gave
her the smallest of response in kind, but only enough she'd notice.
The last thing he wanted was for the butler to come in and see them
sharing some kind of private joke. It would only fuel their
ridiculous notion that the pair should marry.

“Good morning,
Myron. Ms Jones, welcome to the palace,” the butler said as he
finally bustled in. Not far behind him was yet another woman with a
tray of tea.

“Thank you for the
invitation,” Amelia replied, not missing a beat and sounding like
it was an honour. Whether she thought it truly was or not, Mycroft
didn't intend to look her way and find out. He didn't want the
butler to read too much into such a gesture.

“Well, we've been
hearing lots about you. It was about time we had a chat, I think.”
The butler gave Mycroft a pointed look to let him know it was
considered an avoidable chat.

Mycroft fought
back an annoyed sigh. They never summoned him to the palace for any
other reason than to complain or try to make some kind of point. By
now he'd have hoped they'd learnt that he never cared what they
thought of him as long as he got the job done in a way he saw
fit.

Not having any
idea of what they wanted to talk about, Amelia remained silent and
merely expressed the usual politeness when she was given her tea.
She drank first as she should have done when there were just the
two men and her in the room. It was a common mistake for women to
think they should wait for their host. He was glad Amelia didn't
fall into that trap. It only applied if the actual royal family
were present.

“I understand
you've been undergoing some training, courtesy of Myron here?”

“Yes. It certainly
helps when terrorists take an interest in you.” Amelia smiled,
almost exactly mimicking the gesture he gave people.

“I assume he
extended our invitation to join the training system for some of our
most highly prized agents?”

“Of course,” she
said, lying well enough the butler probably didn't pick up on
it.

“And?”

“I'm sorry. I
really don't think it's for me. While under Myron's tutelage, I've
learnt a great deal. Given how well I've responded, I really can't
consider being trained by anyone else right now.”

Mycroft blinked
lazily, aware she'd managed to work out exactly why he hadn't asked
her in a very short time frame. On the inside only, he felt very
smug.

The butler frowned
and put down his teacup. For a few seconds no one said
anything.

“It seems to me
that we don't quite understand each other. It's very important to
her majesty that you be brought in to be trained in some way.”

“It's quite clear
we don't understand each other. I assure you, if Myron, or I,
wanted me to be part of your training program, I would be
already.”

“We don't like
loose ends, Ms Jones.”

“And Myron? Is he
a loose end?” she asked, the fierceness in her beginning to add
bite to her words. Mycroft waited, knowing where she was going,
even if the butler didn't. It was very comforting to see her handle
the conversation so well. Not even the royal family were going to
make her do something she didn't want to.

“I think we both
know Myron is considered an integral part of our government.
Neither of you would be here otherwise.”

“Then I am not a
loose end either. I do exactly as Myron instructs me, no more and
no less.”

“On paper it does
not appear so.”

“So make a piece
of paper that says so. I will only be trained and commanded by
Myron.”

“All right. I'll
add a division to our specialist agency group. I assume you have no
objection, Myron?” the butler smiled and he returned the gesture,
even if neither of them meant it. Of all the possible ways the
conversation could end, it was the least offensive to him. The
royal family had made it quite apparent they weren't going to allow
Amelia to be forgotten. At least this way she still answered to him
and only him.

“As long as I only
train people I've chosen, I see no reason to object.”

“Then Ms Jones is
officially yours to oversee. Any mistakes she makes will reflect
upon you both.”

“Understood. I'll
ensure all relevant paperwork is filled out,” Mycroft said as he
stood. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over. A
second later Amelia got to her feet as well, looking at him for the
first time since the butler had arrived.

The butler soon
responded, showing them out as if he were done as well. Mycroft
doubted he was, but what had happened could be spun positively
enough when fed up to the top of the royal family. They would be
allowed to leave without a fuss.

As Amelia walked
behind Myron, she surreptitiously wiped her palms on her trousers.
While sitting in the palace sweat had slicked both, and she didn't
want anyone to notice the effect the meeting had taken on her body.
On top of that, her heart had raced and she needed to pee.

For several
minutes, she'd felt like a mouse caught between two lions. On one
side of her had sat her ever strict and difficult to please mentor,
and opposite her the mouth of the royal family. It was a situation
she hoped never to repeat, even if she appeared to have survived
the conflict.

It was evident
that Myron was treading a very fine line with his work and wasn't
entirely approved of. She also hoped she'd picked up correctly that
he didn't want her training with another branch of the government.
When it came down to it, he appeared to have leapt at the idea of
her being trained by him, but given how little emotion he showed,
she could easily be wrong.

By the time she
said goodbye to the butler her pulse had slowed to an almost normal
pace and her hands were dry enough she didn't feel too conscious
when she shook the man's hand. Less than a minute later she was
back in the same car seat and being driven away from the
palace.

Myron didn't say a
word, instead choosing to focus on the view from his window. After
a few seconds she decided to do the same. The driver wasn't
Daniels, and therefore Amelia didn't know what could and couldn't
be said. She would save her many questions for later, when she knew
it was safe to talk without incurring the Holmes wrath.

It took even
longer to get back to the military facility Myron had been picked
up from than leaving it had. Now it was close to rush hour, the
traffic in London was terrible. Amelia found herself feeling
grateful that she didn't have to contend with it every day.

“Come,” Myron said
as he got out. After half a second to combat her shock, she
followed him out of the car. “We'll be expected to file your
paperwork immediately.”

She nodded and
stood beside him as the driver shut the door they'd emerged
from.

“I can't stay,”
the man said. “I have orders to return.”

“I'll see Ms Jones
to her destination,” Myron replied, and Amelia had to fight off the
grin she wanted to express. It meant more time with the Holmes
brother. The driver moved around to the boot and fetched her
suitcase. After he'd wheeled it over to her he got back in the car
and departed.

Myron raised his
eyebrows and looked pointedly at the luggage.

“I was coming back
to London when the car picked me up,” she said before she realised
he was likely to know that.

“Of course you
were.” He rolled his eyes. “Leave it with Daniels.”

She did as she was
bid, helping the chauffeur put it in his own boot, and then hurried
to catch up with Myron as he strode into the nearest building.
There were two soldiers on the other side of the door. Although
neither of them moved their bodies, keeping their rigid at
attention postures, both followed her with their eyes. It was
obvious they were curious about her. In her civilian clothes she
looked out of place, even with Myron beside her.

“I need these
printed,” Myron said as he walked into a small office and held out
a USB stick to an older man behind a desk. Even he was wearing an
army uniform.

“Yes, sir. Shall I
let your men know you'll relieve them soon, or let them continue
looking after the package downstairs?”

“I've got some
work I have to see to for the moment. Have them carry on.”

“Package?” Amelia
asked as Myron then led her to another office. This one was empty
and, given the furniture, evidently his. He sat down behind it,
fetched a pen, and rummaged through his desk for a small camera,
not answering her question.

“Hold still,” he
said. She tried to do as he bid and looked at the camera, but when
the first photo printed out and came into view Myron shook his
head.

“Again. Do try not
to look quite so intimidated,” he said and waited for her to pose
again. As Amelia tried something more neutral, Myron clicked the
shutter again and let this second photo print. While they were
waiting for it to finish developing, the soldier he'd given the USB
stick to knocked and entered, carrying the stick and a stack of
paper so thick it made Amelia's eyes widen.

“Good, let's get
started.”

Over the next
three hours Myron filled in the entire stack of paperwork. Most of
the answers he seemed to know himself but he had her clarify a few
details. As more and more questions went past without him needing
her to give the answers, she realised just how thorough a check
he'd already done on her. He knew almost everything there was to
know about her, from her family and friends to her education and
financial state.

While he wrote in
the answers, she sat there, feeling more and more exposed and
vulnerable. This man even knew the number of other people she'd
slept with. It didn't help that every question that could be asked
about her was on the form. They wanted to know every little thing
that might be used to bribe her someday. It only made her feel a
little better about having been well behaved most of her life.

As the questions
moved into the realms of her love life, some old photos came to
mind, and she found herself feeling uncomfortable. She wasn't sure
if it was something she should tell him about or not and, if she
did, what it might do to change his opinion of her.

While her
discomfort grew she continued to read over what Myron was writing.
When it got to a question about anything else that might be used to
compromise her integrity Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but the
confident Holmes was already writing the word nothing.

“Actually...” she
said as he paused to turn over the page, not sure how to begin
saying what she needed to.

“I took care of
it,” he replied, carrying on with the form.

“You know what
it
is?”

“If it is of a
photographic nature, then yes, I know what
it
is.”

Amelia's mouth
fell open at the uninterested tone Myron used. He'd just admitted
he had removed some compromising photos of her from existence.

“Thank you,” she
said, having no idea what a person normally said in that
situation.

He ignored the
gratitude and carried on writing for several minutes. Eventually,
he reached the end and signed it. He then moved the stack of
documents over to her.

“Sign and date
it,” he said.

“And this
officially makes me an agent of the British government?”

He nodded.

As she picked up
the pen she let out a deep breath. Two seconds later the document
was signed and she was officially working for Myron and being
trained by him.

When she'd asked
him to teach her she hadn't expected to end up getting herself this
sort of job, but she knew she was in too deep to turn around now.
Not that she wanted to. Her life had come alive since she'd met
Myron. The few fears she'd gained were nothing compared to the
adventures she'd had.

“Good, now wait
here for your identification. I have something to deal with.” He
stalked off, taking the document and photo with him.

She sat back,
wondering what he might need to do before she remembered that
Nesterov was somewhere on the site. It was also likely to be what
they were referring to when they had mentioned a package earlier.
Myron hadn't answered, and she didn't need to be a genius to know
it was likely to be because the man had tortured her.

The last time
she'd spoken to Myron he'd told her to face her fears, and she knew
she wanted to do that here as well. Maybe she'd find it easier to
sleep if she confronted the man who'd been responsible for
abducting her.