The Reluctant Knight (6 page)

Hours ticked by
with little progress. They reached Frankfurt, and again Mycroft was
forced to make a decision with very little information. He trusted
his instincts on the Russians themselves and found Sherlock of a
similar mind. They were likely to pass through Hungary and get into
Ukraine as soon as possible.

The farther they
travelled into Ukraine the tougher it would be on Mycroft. He
wasn't welcome there on a good day, and the Russians would find far
more political allies than he would. He didn't need to say this to
Sherlock. His younger brother was well aware and raised their
average speed a few miles each hour to help ensure they caught up
to Amelia long before she was in such hostile countries.

By midnight,
Daniels was snoring softly beside Sherlock and even Amelia's
repeated almost hourly updates were sounding sleepy and less
rapid.

As far as he could
tell, the Russians had only stopped once on the entire journey
through Germany and must have only swapped driver around because
Amelia stayed unmoved in the boot. He knew the man driving the
motorbike was now with them. It had been found in a hedge less than
a hundred metres from the car at Folkestone. All three of the
Russians were now in one car together.

Shortly after one,
Mycroft heard increased fidgeting noises and turned the volume up a
notch. A little later, he heard what sounded like a muffled snort
of laughter, but he couldn't be sure. Finally he heard the sound of
the boot opening, and the rustle of Amelia's clothes as she was
hauled out of the boot.

He sighed when it
became apparent they were probably changing cars again, but the
noises didn't match up as he heard the scuffle of her feet on some
kind of gravel or rough concrete turn to the neat clack of heels on
tiled flooring.

A few seconds
later he realised they'd taken her to some kind of restroom. He
politely turned the volume back down while she relieved herself and
then used the flush as a cue to raise it again.

Once they'd
allowed her to drink, she was bundled up again and shoved into a
boot once more. However, as soon as the engine started up, he could
tell it was different.

“They've switched
cars again?” Daniels asked, woken by the noises. Mycroft nodded and
sat back, closing his eyes for a few seconds. They'd narrowed it
down to three cars and were now back to square one. Right now, he
needed Amelia to have seen something useful.

He listened as she
continued to fidget, expecting her to start tapping, but for the
next fifteen minutes she continued to rustle and move.

“What's
happening?” Daniels asked, his eyes wide.

“She's probably
trying to untie herself,” Sherlock replied, evidently listening as
well.

“It's possible
they didn't restrain her as well after letting her get some air.”
Mycroft found himself hoping this as he said it.

Several minutes
later his hopes were confirmed.

“Myron, I really
hope you're listening in to this by now,” Amelia's quiet whisper
came out of his laptop speaker. He turned the volume up even
further. “I was recently at Eholfing truck services in south
Germany and I think we just crossed another border. I don't know
what car I'm in but the boot space is bigger than the last one and
smells of wet dog.”

There was nothing
but the sound of Amelia's breathing for a few seconds.

“I recognised one
of the Russians. It was the same one as on the boat back in October
last year. They've not done me much harm yet, but I don't know what
they plan.”

Before she had
finished speaking Mycroft was searching for a photo of the Russian
she'd mentioned. It would be better than nothing to get it out to
the authorities in Austria.

“Please, Myron, I
don't know what you can do to help, but at least be listening. If
nothing else, please be listening,” Amelia whispered her voice
cracking over the last part. Mycroft lowered the volume again as
the unmistakable sounds of her weeping followed.

He swallowed and
looked up in time to see Sherlock regularly glancing at him in the
rear view mirror, gauging his reaction to her second bout of tears.
As much as he wanted to react to her emotion, he knew he had to
think. He zoned it out and processed the information she'd passed
on. She'd done well so far even if she was struggling to keep all
her fear at bay.

He pulled his
phone out of his pocket and phoned the police commissioner. It
would drag the man out of bed, but this mattered too much to hold
him back.

“Hello,” the
surprisingly awake-sounding voice said.

“Commissioner,
this is Myron Holmes. I need you to do two things for me.”

“Of course, Mr
Holmes, anything I can do to assist you.”

“Firstly I am
sending you the picture of a criminal wanted in respect to
kidnapping a close friend of mine. Currently, he's believed to be
in western Austria and driving through as we speak. In several
hours, he's expected to pass through Hungary and Ukraine on his way
to Russia.”

“I'll get that
circulated right away,” the commissioner said and then fell silent
again.

“Secondly, I have
reason to suspect a car has just been abandoned in connection to
the same kidnapping at Eholfing truck services in Germany. I want
that car examined and cross-checked against the forensics of a car
abandoned less than twelve hours ago at Folkestone.”

“Understood. I
have my team working on that particular car right now. You'll have
all the details as soon as I have them.”

“Good. I will
arrive in Eholfing shortly, but I want police there before me.”
Mycroft hung up. At least the police couldn't be stopped from
aiding him. After all, the country had to appear to care about
Amelia.

As Mycroft
refocused on Amelia's bug, he noticed her breathing had shallowed
out and was now an even purr in the background. After the crazy day
she'd had she'd managed to cry herself to sleep.

Quiet fell in
Mycroft's car while Daniels tried to sleep again and Sherlock drove
them through the night. With Amelia asleep on her end of the
communication, it meant only the Holmes brothers were awake, and
they'd never been much for conversation.

The red car they'd
tailed all the way from the Belgian border had contained Amelia the
entire time. More of her hair and flecks of dried blood had been
found in the boot. The police would tell him if it matched the
blood in the UK's abandoned car, but he knew it would.

Earlier he'd tried
to get the footage from the cameras at the service station, but
they'd not been set to record. The man who'd been keeping an eye on
them said only three other cars had gone in or out during the right
sort of time. One advantage of it being a truck stop, but they only
had a description to go on, not a car license plate.

At four that
morning he'd heard the engine slow on the car Amelia was in and
suspected, given the route they appeared to be on, that they were
crossing out of Austria and into Hungary. Now that he had two rough
points of time to pinpoint a car with, he was looking over more
footage for the possible borders they passed through.

It was just
beginning to get light when Mycroft reached the end of the final
piece of footage. He quickly worked out that he'd only seen one car
that had matched the descriptions from Eholfing that had also gone
through the border from Germany to Austria and then Austria to
Hungary at the right sort of time.

Not even telling
Sherlock the good news first, Mycroft pulled out his phone again.
He had to refrain from swearing when he saw that he had no signal,
but it only took him a few seconds to get it hooked up to the
satellite system he had the laptops on instead.

“Police
Commissioner,” he said as soon as someone picked up. “I've just
sent you details of a car in Hungary that I need stopped. At least
three dangerous Russian terrorists, one of which you already have
the picture of, are in that car. They have a British woman in the
boot, almost certainly tied, but likely blindfolded as well.”

“Understood, Mr
Holmes. Do you know where in Hungary? It's not a small area.”

“Near the
Ukrainian border. I do not want them to be allowed out of the
country. Make sure every person manning any of the eastern borders
know to stop them.” Mycroft knew he was emphasising something that
probably didn't need it, but he wouldn't take any chances. For the
first time in this chase, they knew the car while she was still in
it.

“Of course,
sir.”

Mycroft hung up
and turned the volume up on Amelia's feed. He hoped her internal
body clock was still working well enough to wake her, now it was
morning.

By the time she
was stirring Sherlock was yawning, but he stifled it when Amelia's
whispering voice filled the car again.

“Myron...” she
sighed. “Myron, I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I don't know how long
for. It's still dark in here. Just in case you didn't hear it last
time, the last I knew I was in Eholfing.”

Mycroft listened
as she repeated all the information she'd given them once more. It
wasn't useful a second time but given that she had no idea if
anyone was listening to her, he knew she was being sensible in
repeating it.

“I really hope
you're listening to this, Myron. I... I don't know if I can get out
of this alone. I'll do my best, but I've not had a good opportunity
to do anything yet. Please, do what you can to get me safe. I
promise once this is over I'll learn Morse code. I even think I'll
learn Russian.”

Sherlock chuckled
from the front seat, but went quiet as soon as she resumed
speaking.

“Please, please
help, Myron. I'm scared of small spaces. I don't know how much
longer I can hold myself together.”

“Is there any way
we can get a message back to her?” Daniels asked.

Mycroft shook his
head. While everyone with him was aware they were doing everything
they could to help her, she would only have hope to sustain
her.

For a few minutes
they listened to her breathing as she tried to stay calm. At first
it sounded very much like she might cry again, but she managed to
hold herself together and steady her breathing back down.

Mycroft was just
about to pull his phone back out and demand the Commissioner tell
him why it was taking so long to have the car stopped when Amelia
piped up again.

“I think we're
stopping somewhere again,” she whispered and then fell silent.

Mycroft clenched
his fists together, powerless to do anything if they changed cars
again. With nothing to do but listen, he tilted his head back and
closed his eyes, willing his face to remain impassive and his
muscles to relax.

While he sat there
he heard the click of the boot lid being pulled back. There was
more swearing and then some yelling in Russian, followed by a thud
and a grunt from Amelia.

“You want to make
trouble, do you?” one of the men yelled.

“I couldn't
breathe, I couldn't breathe,” Amelia replied in between whimpers of
pain. “Please. I'm scared.”

“Shut up,” the
same man said. Sounds of muffled squeals of pain and smacks
followed right after and continued for several minutes until a loud
thud and a boot lid slamming ended the commotion. During the rough
treatment Mycroft had managed to make out some of the speech
between the men. They'd tied her hands behind her back this time
and she'd been gagged and black-bagged again.

A few seconds
later Amelia grunted some more and tried to make as much noise as
possible. The lid opened right back up again and the sound of
several more loud smacks and thuds came through his speakers, each
one punctuated by a muffled whimper.

“Shut up.”

When Amelia was
enclosed for a second time everything went quiet. Mycroft glanced
at the clock. It was almost ten in the morning on local time. For
the next couple of minutes, all that could be heard in the car was
Amelia's breathing as she tried to calm down.

It was now almost
certain that Amelia was in a different car once again, but he
didn't call off the hunt for the previous car. It would be vaguely
useful, and there was always a small chance that the police in the
area could trace one car to the other quicker than he could from
his limited position.

While he thought
this, Amelia started shuffling again. She grunted a couple of
times, and just under five minutes later she was whispering
again.

“I'm in a blue
Ford Focus with a British plate. It begins AT57. We switched cars
in the middle of some kind of manufacturing place. No one was
around. There's four men with me now. I don't recognise any of the
others.”

Before Amelia had
finished telling him all she knew Mycroft was passing it on to the
relevant people. She'd done well to get untied again so swiftly,
and he wasn't going to waste her effort.

Five minutes later
his phone rang. The number came up on the screen for the
Commissioner's office.

“They've just
found the previous car, Mr Holmes. Near a small town called
Berugsarany.”

“At a factory
there,” Mycroft said, finishing his sentence.

“Yes. I've got
them looking for the next car as we speak. Several extra police
cars have been dispatched to patrol the roads between there and the
border.”

“Have the border
guards been informed?”

“I have it under
good authority that they're doing that now.”

Mycroft felt a
rush of satisfaction. This time they should be stopped.

“We're slowing
again,” Amelia whispered, cutting through Mycroft's
conversation.

“They're at the
border, Commissioner. I want them stopped,” Mycroft said, making
sure his tone matched the sentiment.

“I understand, Mr
Holmes. Just hold the line, sir, and I'll get right on sorting this
out.”