The Reluctant Knight (2 page)

While Daniels
pulled up into the same car park, Mycroft forwarded the
registration numbers of every car that came out in the next half an
hour to his secretary and demanded she run a background check on
all of them.

“The motorbike
rider came back to his bike and drove off again,” Sherlock said
before Mycroft could get out.

“Follow him,”
Mycroft replied, but he barely needed to; already Sherlock was
moving to the next camera to see where he went. His younger brother
didn't need him to point out it might be their only lead.

Feeling the weight
in his stomach get even heavier, Mycroft got out of the car and
walked to the area of the car park not covered by the CCTV footage
at the right time. He could only hope that something on the ground
let him know what had happened.

Immediately, he
spotted the white van, parked in the corner and abandoned, although
no one else would know that until much later. It wasn't surprising
for something like that to be left in an area of London like this
for at least twelve hours.

Somehow, Mycroft
had to work out where they took Amelia next, and if it took longer
than ten minutes he'd fall even further behind her.

Despite the sodden
cloth in Amelia's mouth, her teeth chattered together and her head
throbbed in time as the two men rolled her along in the cart. The
little wheels weren't designed to roll over such uneven concrete,
but it pulled her out of the fog her mind had been in and helped
her work out that she was out the back of the hotel somewhere. It
only saddened her when she realised the information was useless if
she couldn't pass it on to anyone else.

Before she could
think any further, the cloth over the cart was swept backwards and
she was lifted again. Once more, she tried to struggle, but being
tied, gagged and unable to see gave her little room to achieve
anything against two strong men. None of her training had covered
what to do after you'd been incapacitated.

As she was slung
onto a hard metal floor, she felt a strange sense of weightlessness
before she came down hard on one arm. Pain flared, making her
grunt. Sounds of scuffles on the cold metal nearby let her know she
wasn't going to be alone for the journey, and then she heard the
sound of two doors shutting.

A few seconds
later another opened and then slammed, but more quietly, as if it
was farther away. When the engine started up with a deep, throaty,
and ever so slightly inconsistent, rumble she knew she must be in
the back of a van.

While Amelia lay
there, letting the pain in her arm fade, she thought over
everything Tom had taught her in their last lesson together the
previous morning. It only made her wish she'd had longer to
practice it and hadn't been so awkward about paying attention.
Right now it might have been something that could get her out of
this mess.

Trying to calm
herself down, she closed her eyes and focused on everything she
could hear and feel. Someone coughed nearby, giving her a pinpoint
on the exact position of her nearest captor. It wasn't a lot of
information but it was something new.

Her heart raced
and moisture prickled her eyes as she thought about the situation
she was in, but she did her best to fight it off. It wouldn't do
her any good to let panic overwhelm her, but this wasn't like the
previous attacks she'd faced. These men had tried to kill her on
previous occasions, and unlike her stalker only months earlier,
Amelia knew there would be no talking her way out of this one. She
was alone and there would be no direct help from the Holmes
brothers.

She exhaled,
noticing her nose was starting to block up from the tears
threatening to fall. In such a short space of time the wad of cloth
in her mouth had dried it out soaking up all the moisture and
swelling to fill the space so completely if she couldn't breathe
through her nose she'd suffocate.

Amelia reminded
herself that this might all be a test and felt herself relax her
tense muscles a little. If Myron wanted to see how she'd perform in
this situation she wanted to leave him stunned by how well she
coped. And if it wasn't a test, her life depended on her
coping.

After focusing on
her breathing for several minutes, she felt much calmer and
returned her attention to the task of escaping, or getting a
message to Myron. She could only hope he noticed her absence
swiftly. After all, she'd been taken from a hotel he probably
owned.

For a few seconds
she considered trying to work out where she was going, but she knew
she just didn't know London well enough. Even if she did, she'd not
taken notice of the first few turns. It would be Myron who would
have to trace the journey. She needed to focus on escape. While her
hands were tied in front of her she couldn't do much with them, but
her feet were untied, and that meant she could run.

Somehow, she'd
need enough time to pull the bag off her head as she doubted they
were going to remove it soon. While she was thinking about this, it
occurred to her that she would need even longer. Her eyes would
need to adjust. She'd spent long enough in the dark that her vision
would be blinded by daylight. Once more, she wished she'd performed
better at Tom's last lesson.

Time seemed to
stretch out as Amelia went over the same few thoughts again. She
knew she needed to try and escape and she needed to try and get a
message to whoever might be coming after her, assuming this wasn't
a test. If it was, no one would come after her.

Eventually, she
noticed she was going in circles and getting nowhere. She stopped
thinking about all the same thoughts and tried to think of a
different angle of attack. A book she'd once read came to mind. The
book itself was long forgotten, but she knew the characters, once
captured, had taken stock of what they had on them that might be of
use. Several items had come in handy when it came to their escape
plan. Somehow, she might be able to achieve the same thing.

Not long after she
thought this she remembered they'd left her handbag behind. She was
wearing nothing but a flimsy dress and her coat.

When she thought
over the matching underwear underneath, she let out a muffled laugh
that she had no doubt would have sounded crazed had it not been
hindered. Her best-friend, Sophie, had once joked that the best way
a woman could protect herself against rape or kidnapping was to not
wear matching underwear. After all, women who did have this sort of
thing happen to them, in books or on TV, always wore matching
underwear. She chalked it up to mistake number one.

Bringing her back
to her situation, the van slowed and turned sharply to one side.
The guy beside her then shuffled closer, and she realised something
was about to happen. She might not be able to escape, but if she
was going to try and leave something for Myron she needed to decide
what now.

A light went on in
her head as she remembered she had two of the bugs Myron had given
her in her right-hand pocket. She could try and hide one of them on
herself and turn it on. She was assuming he'd given her working
models. The other she could drop somewhere he might notice.

While the driver
got out of the van and shut the door behind him, Amelia reached
around to her pocket. Trying to make as little noise as possible,
she slid her hands inside and pulled out one of the tiny bugs in
each hand. Less than a second later the back door of the van swung
open, followed by the other.

When her legs were
grabbed, Amelia struggled again, dropping one of the bugs as she
did. Making sure she then cradled the other safely in the palm of
her hand, she allowed herself to be taken to the edge of the van.
As they set her on her feet, she let a leg turn to jelly. Instantly
she fell to the ground, slamming into the feet of the person next
to her.

She heard him
swear in Russian; It seemed she'd hurt his foot and her shoulder
equally. Allowing herself to yell in pain, she reached her hands up
to massage her shoulder, inside her coat and near the edge of her
dress.

Before she could
plant the bug on herself they yanked her back to her feet again.
Her breath caught in her throat as the second device slid from her
grip. Her fingers closed on it just in time and cradled it against
the palm of the other hand.

She felt a third
pair of hands reach out, and between all three of her captors she
was slung into a small space. It took less than a second for her to
work out that it was a car boot. They pushed in the fabric of her
coat around her and then slammed the lid down.

Once more, Amelia
felt her heart begin to pound in her chest and her breathing
quicken until her lungs felt like they were straining against the
restrictions to getting air. Fog crept into her mind and she
started to wonder if she was about to pass out.

Little frightened
her more than being enclosed in a small space. Just before she
passed out, Amelia thought of how Myron would react. Letting her
fear get the better of her would disgust him so badly she'd never
get him to like her again. This was enough of a motivator that,
combined with the light-headedness, she managed to calm her heart
back down a little and steady out her breathing.

Amelia estimated
she'd been in the van somewhere between three quarters of an hour
and an hour, even after adjusting for the eternity it felt like
while she lay on the metal flooring. This car was warm, which was
an improvement, but she knew she'd be in this space far longer. She
needed to conquer this fear and keep it conquered or she wouldn't
survive this journey.

As soon as she was
once more in control of her body, Amelia tried to wiggle enough to
tuck the bug in her hands underneath the top of her dress, where
the strap was stitched in. Hopefully, her coat wouldn't muffle the
sound too much. Once it was in place she depressed the very small
button on the other side of it and wiggled around some more to
bring her head down and close to it.

Now all she had to
do was somehow get her hands up and underneath the bag she was
wearing to try and get the cloth out of her mouth. After taking a
minute to re-calm herself, she wriggled some more to bring her
hands up to her neck and felt round the base of the bag. It had a
drawstring-style closing around the bottom, and no matter how badly
she tried to squirm her fingers up under the edge it didn't loosen.
She couldn't get it past the base of her fingers without
restricting her own neck.

It didn't take
long for her head to fog up again and let her know she had once
more come close to passing out. She changed tack and tried to feel
around the bag for whatever was holding it so tightly closed. It
had fitted over her head with ease so somewhere it must be tied in
place.

Her elbows jabbed
into her sides several times before she concluded she couldn't
reach the tie in her current position. The breath she'd been
holding while she concentrated came out in one exasperated puff,
but she knew she couldn't give up. She had to use every last ounce
of thought, strength and stamina she had to get herself into a
better situation.

She allowed
herself a slight whimper of frustration as she reached her fingers
underneath the bag edge again, accidentally prodding herself in the
tender flesh of her own neck several times. Centimetre by
painstaking centimetre, she pulled the bag around.

By the time she
reached the knot, her throat hurt from the abuse her fingers kept
accidentally inflicting upon it and she was growing dizzy for a
third time. She paused once more, unable to continue until she'd
cleared her head.

Several more
minutes passed while she rested and thought. There was still no way
for her to tell for sure if this was a test from Myron or a real
situation. However, it was evident that, if it was a test, she was
meant to believe it was real. Either way, what she should do was
the same. She could almost hear Myron's voice in her head telling
her to assume it was real and act accordingly.

She nodded her
acknowledgement of the thought and felt around the side of her neck
for the knot. It was complicated and the string used to form the
not had frayed, leaving strands of the soft fibre to trip her
fingers up while they worked blind.

It took her
several minutes of feeling along the knot for her to find anything
that might be considered an end to start work with. When they'd
pulled the bag over her head and bundled her along the hotel
corridor she hadn't thought the knot was this complicated, but it
was possible elements of it had already been in place and they'd
only needed to yank it tight to seal her in darkness.

Amelia pulled on
the different parts of the knot, but after ten minutes her finger
tips were rubbed raw, she'd torn a finger nail somewhere low enough
it now gave off a dull ache, and she had made incredibly little
progress.

With a sigh, she
gave up. The loose strands were tangled up in the rest of the knot,
and trying to undo it without being able to see was only making
more of a mess. No matter how hard she tried she didn't think she
would manage to undo it.

If she was going
to use the bug to communicate with Myron she needed to do so
without using her voice. Reaching her fingers around until she
could feel the bug, she placed the digit of one finger over the top
of it. She paused, making sure she remembered SOS in Morse code,
and then tapped it out several times.

After that she
realised she knew little else. E was the most common letter so she
knew it was represented by a single dot and she was fairly sure T
was a single dash. That didn't give her the ability to say much. No
matter how much she tried to think of other letters she just
couldn't remember what they were. Not even numbers came back to
her.