The Ambitious Orphan (9 page)

About half an hour
after Myron left, the soldier from the other office appeared again
and handed her an identification tag with her name and picture
on.

“Wear this when
you're at military facilities and other government buildings.
You've got security clearance level delta.”

“Is that high?”
she asked.

“Higher than
mine,” he replied, giving her a brief smile. “Welcome to the
team.”

She shook his hand
and decided he might be a little more forthcoming with information
than Myron, given the level of clearance she'd just been given.

“The package you
mentioned earlier. It's Nesterov, isn't it?”

He nodded and gave
her a piercing look as if he was unsure why she'd been given
access.

“Good,” she
continued, putting on an air of confidence as alike Myron's as she
could manage. “Can you direct me to the room you have him in, or
have someone escort me there?”

“Has that been
authorised, ma'am?”

“Yes. Myron
himself requested I do so. Something about facing my fears.” She
smiled at the soldier.

“I'll take you
there myself,” he replied, relenting. It wasn't fully the truth,
and she wondered quite how Myron would react, but it was true that
he'd encouraged her to face her fears at all times. Nesterov was a
fear, and she was going to confront it.

She followed the
rigid soldier as he walked back through most of the hallways that
had led her there, and then took a new turn towards a lift. Once
inside, he paused and motioned towards a slot to swipe cards.

“It's usual for
the person with the higher authority in an area to scan their
cards, ma'am”

“Ah, right,” she
said and fed her card through the slot. A moment later a bunch of
numbers lit up on the panel that had been dark. He pressed the
bottommost number while she tried not to grin. Already she was
superior to people who'd been training a long time. Being tied to
Myron definitely carried weight.

The lift moved
steadily downwards for several minutes, ticking down numbers until
they came to a halt on the bottom floor.

“This way, ma'am,”
the soldier said and moved past her out into the corridor. The air
smelt damp and musty as she followed out, making her wrinkle her
nose momentarily and think back to the Russian compound. This
facility was nowhere near as bad, but having something so deep
underground always led to a small amount of damp after enough
years.

It was easy to see
why Nesterov was down on this level. Everything was enclosed in
concrete, and the corridors as well the as the lift entrance were
covered with bulk-head doors that would take a serious explosion or
blow-torch to get through once they were closed.

Amelia fought back
her shivers and kept her breathing deep and calm as she walked. It
wouldn't be wise to let this soldier see her afraid, or Myron, if
he was around here somewhere.

They rounded a
corner and finally saw another living person. The agent who had
followed her home from the fitness centre the day before sat at a
small table, playing a game of patience with a worn and grimy
looking pack of cards. He looked up as soon as their footsteps
announced their approach, and she smiled warmly at him.

“Hello, ma'am.”
His eyes roved over her and settled on the card she still had in
her hand.

“Well, here you
are, ma'am. I'll leave you in Steven's capable hands,” the soldier
said snapping his heels together and saluting her. For a second,
she wondered if she was meant to salute back but he relaxed
again.

“Thank you...”

“Colonel Markham,
ma'am.”

“Thank you,
Colonel Markham. You've been most helpful.”

With that, the
soldier went back the way he came, leaving her outside the door.
She was about to ask the agent with her to let her in the room when
she heard the sound of someone smacking something into flesh and a
grunt of pain. Her eyes went wide.

“The commander is
in there,” Steven said, motioning his head towards the door and the
source of the sound. “Trying to get Nesterov to talk. Don't think
it will take much longer to break him.”

Horror filled her
at what might be happening in the room, and her disgust at the idea
of Myron inflicting pain on another for her sake overcame all her
fear.

“Let me in,” she
said as she saw the keys on the small table.

“I'm not sure I'm
allowed to do that, ma'am.”

“It's not a
request.” She gritted her teeth and looked calm but like she was
about to snap any moment. It seemed to work.

“If he gets pissed
off I'm blaming you.”

“Of course.” She
nodded her appreciation and moved over to the door, tucking her new
identification card into the top of her corset to keep it safe and
out of the way.

Making sure her
face was as cold and impassive as she could get it, she gave him a
second up and down of her head so he'd know to let her in. He
turned the key and pushed the door inwards.

Myron looked at
her first, but she strode into the room before he could tell her
not to. Not daring to look at him long enough to see if he was
angry, she took in the sight of the Russian.

He was laid out on
the floor, chains around his hands and feet stretching him out so
he couldn't protect any of the more vulnerable areas of his body. A
mixture of water and blood covered the ground around him, and a
second later the smell of that, urine and other unpleasant body
odours assaulted her nostrils.

For a few seconds
she could only stand and stare, fighting off the queasy feeling the
sight and smells had given her. Myron watched her, but didn't
comment. In front of Nesterov he was unlikely to admonish her.

Fury filled
Mycroft as he watched Amelia walk in in the middle of his
interrogation. He tried to use body language the prisoner wouldn't
notice to encourage his wayward protégée to leave, but she looked
straight past him to Nesterov.

Knowing she was
battling her own emotions in some way, Mycroft waited for her to do
whatever she'd come to do, but the Russian was the first to break
the silence.

“I didn't expect
to see your beautiful face any time soon,” he said, in between
gasps for air and a grimace of pain. Mycroft watched both of them,
forcing himself not to react to anything, as if she were
expected.

“I only now
realised you were being interrogated, or I would have come sooner,”
Amelia said as she walked closer. Once she was within a couple of
feet, she crouched, making sure neither of her feet touched any of
the liquids splattered across the floor.

“So you're the
balm that's meant to make me talk.”

“No,” she said.
“I'm not even meant to be here, but I don't like violence of any
kind and, despite what you did to me, I don't want to see you hurt
further.”

“And you think you
have the power to stop this?”

“Honestly, I have
no idea.” Amelia finally looked at Mycroft, searching him for the
answer. He allowed a little of his anger to show when Nesterov also
turned slowly towards him. After a few seconds Nesterov looked back
to Amelia and studied her.

“I don't doubt
this is a secure facility. You must work for Mr Holmes or the
government, too. Not a high-class hooker as you told my
comrade.”

A small smile
spread across her face.

“No, not a hooker,
but, until today, nothing more than an acquaintance. And I still
don't know what you thought I did.”

“Well, one of my
assumptions was right. He cares about you.”

“See, I'm not sure
about that, either.”

“Oh, I know now. I
have felt it. And you can see it in the way he looks at you.”

“Enough!” Mycroft
took a step towards them, raising the electric baton in his
hand.

“No, Myron.”
Amelia held up her arm to stop him from hitting the Russian with
it. “Nesterov, I don't think he'll let me ask again. Tell me who
you work for and I'll do what I can to see this end.”

“You can't promise
me that he will stop.” Nesterov spat blood up onto the floor
again.

“Can't I? You said
it yourself. He cares about me and what I think. I want this to
end. It's barbaric.”

Nesterov
concentrated on her face and she didn't waver under his gaze.

“There are few
souls in this world as bright as yours. If this is to be my fate, I
will meet it with dignity, and with honour and respect for what
little grace I have had the fortune to see.”

After a pause, the
Russian turned his face to Mycroft and took a few breaths to steady
himself against the pain.

“I worked for a
man called Tomek Krylov. He runs many operations, selling firearms,
drugs, and even people, in and out of Russia. He pays well and had
some kind of benefactor to get started.”

Mycroft nodded. It
was someone he'd heard of, which made it more likely to be true,
and he had none of the usual signs a man might display when lying,
but there would be no way to know for sure just yet. Mycroft wasn't
the only person who could pass a lie off as the truth.

As it was, he
hadn't expected Nesterov to speak for another thirty hours or so.
Something about Amelia had reached into him without breaking
him.

“Thank you,”
Amelia said quietly, giving the man a warm look. Even this
impressed Mycroft. This man had tortured her the last time she'd
seen him, yet he saw no fear in her now.

As she got up she
gave Mycroft another look over to gauge his reaction. He gave her
the smallest of nods and then collected up the implements he'd used
to inflict pain on Nesterov. It would gain him nothing to hurt the
Russian further right now.

By the time he was
done, Amelia had knocked on the door to get his agent outside to
unlock it and let them out.

“Get him a doctor
and take care of him,” she said as she walked out. The agent's left
eyebrow moved almost imperceptibly before he looked to Mycroft to
see if the order would be confirmed.

“Have some food
and new clothes brought down to him as well,” Mycroft said, knowing
Nesterov would hear the command. After dumping his tools on the
small table, he washed his hands and cleaned all the blood off
again.

“Come.” He looked
pointedly at Amelia before striding down the hallway. In a
heartbeat she was beside him, having to almost run to keep up.
Neither said anything until the lift doors had closed shut around
them.

“I believe I told
you to wait for your ID,” Mycroft said.

“I did.” She
reached two fingers into the top of her corset and pulled out her
card. A few seconds later she put it back. He gave her a stern look
to show his disapproval, but she shrugged her shoulders. “I've not
got any pockets.”

“Not that!”
Mycroft let out a sigh. “What did you think you were doing, coming
into the interrogation like that?”

“To begin with,
obeying your orders.”

“And how did you
arrive at that logic?” Mycroft clenched his fists, feeling his
temper rise along with the lift.

“You commanded me
to face my fears. I was doing just that. I'll sleep better now. And
I got you the information you wanted. I don't think that's too bad
for my first attempt at assisting you.”

“It will have to
be verified.” He strode out of the lift as soon as the doors
opened, but caught sight of the grin on Amelia's face in the
reflective metal as he did so. As angry as he was for her
unexpected interruption, she did have a point. Her technique had
worked off the back of his abuse. Perhaps more by luck than by
judgement, but it was a result nonetheless.

As soon as he was
near a laptop he messaged all the relevant departments, agents and
sources to get them to find information on Tomek Krylov. By dinner
time he'd have all the details anyone knew and could begin tracking
the man's movements.

“Now what?” Amelia
asked as soon as he'd put the lid down and sat back.

“We wait,” he
replied and got up. Once more, she followed him out of the
room.

“We're leaving
now, Colonel. I've given Lynch instructions regarding the package.
I'll issue further as necessary.”

“Of course, sir.
We'll look after him. Safe trip home, sir.”

Mycroft nodded as
Amelia said goodbye and smiled, receiving a much warmer look and
the gesture returned for her effort. Somehow everyone seemed to
like her, and it almost puzzled him that she found it so easy to
achieve. Even Nesterov had decided she was someone to respect.

Right where he'd
been left, Daniels was sitting in the car, reading a book and
eating a sandwich. As soon as they were noticed, the man put both
away and hurried out to open the doors for them.

“Home,” Mycroft
said and settled into his usual seat in the back. As Amelia got in
beside him he caught a whiff of her usual perfume; it made him
think of the first time he'd seen her in Sherlock's living room. It
had led in a direction even he couldn't have anticipated, but he
found he was less uncomfortable with it than he'd have
predicted.

“Are you going to
suggest a hotel for me?” Amelia asked a few minutes later, as she
glanced at the time on a small pocket watch attached to her
waistcoat-style corset. He didn't need her to add that it was
beyond the time she might want to have booked one. For a fraction
of a second he considered inviting her to stay with him and taking
her to bed again, but they had work to do.

“I'll sort it,” he
said eventually and pulled out his phone. A few seconds later his
secretary had the message to arrange a room for her. It was better
than her staying with his younger brother.

They were still
several minutes out from Mycroft's inner-city residence when his
secretary replied with the details. Amelia had a room in one of his
more expensive hotels for several nights. He passed them on to
Amelia as Daniels pulled up outside his house.