The Reluctant Knight (8 page)

As soon as she was
laid down again she went still, fear threatening to overwhelm her
long before they slammed the lid on her. Exactly how long was not
much longer?

The first feelings
of tiredness finally threatened Mycroft's senses. His body had
broken down the last of the adrenaline from his encounter at the
Ukrainian and Hungarian border, and they were back on the road with
Daniels driving smoothly but swiftly.

It was well over
twenty-four hours since he'd last slept, and the average person
would be feeling the tiredness. Even Sherlock had opted to get a
few hours' sleep. While they knew exactly what car Amelia was in
and the Ukrainian police were refusing to lend assistance there was
nothing they could do.

Mycroft had just
decided to have a brief power nap when Daniels spoke.

“Sir, I have a
police car flashing me over.”

Instantly,
Sherlock sat up beside him.

“Should I pull
over, sir?”

Mycroft raised an
eyebrow, then nodded. If they'd been closer to the Russian border
he might have considered getting Daniels to drive on, but given
what happened at the border into the country, Mycroft suspected
this was related.

As soon as they
were stopped on the hard shoulder, the policeman behind them got
out and wandered over.

“Stay in the car,”
Mycroft said, as much for Sherlock's benefit as Daniels'.

“There's been
reports that this car is stolen,” the butch policemen said in
Ukrainian. Within five seconds, Mycroft knew he was the father of
three kids, and needed some more money. He'd been paid to waylay
them. Mycroft sneered. “Do you have ownership papers?”

He didn't bother
to reply, but fetched them from the compartment in the back of the
car.

“I will have to
check these details with our report.” the guy took the document
back to the police car and then got back into the driver's seat to
talk on the inbuilt radio, leaving Mycroft standing in the cold
without a document he couldn't leave behind.

Sherlock got out a
few seconds later.

“It would be wise
for me and Daniels to try and continue. They'll drag this out,
brother of mine.”

“They'll just do
the same to you. We need to stop it at its source.”

“We can't wait
here and do nothing,” Sherlock said. Mycroft finally felt his own
emotions overboil.

“I am well aware.
Trust me when I say that I wish to rescue her as much as anyone.
This should never have happened,” he snapped.

Sherlock raised
his eyebrows but said nothing. It had been many years since Mycroft
had ever lost his cool in front of his younger brother. Both of
them were normally so calm and collected, even when they were
irritating each other.

“This isn't your
fault, you know.” Sherlock turned to face the police car, taking
his focus off Mycroft and giving the elder Holmes a moment to
compose himself. Mycroft sighed.

“It is. We both
know it is. We've been unbeaten too long. We've grown
overconfident.”

“There's not been
a good challenge since Moriarty.”

“Hitler wasn't
exactly easy.”

Sherlock gave him
a glance and shook his head. A few seconds later Mycroft's pocket
buzzed.

He frowned as he
pulled out the phone Amelia usually messaged and his frown deepened
when he saw that it was the same semi-anonymous sender as last
time.

Seems you've
got yourself into a spot of bother. It's sorted now. Consider it my
apology. I really do hope she lives through this. It wasn't part of
my plans at all. D

“Maybe we do have
someone as exciting as Moriarty on our hands,” Sherlock said,
having read the message over his shoulder. With a small chuckle,
Sherlock got back into the car again.

As Mycroft looked
up, the police officer came back with the ownership document.

“I'm sorry, my
friend. It seems there was a misunderstanding. You can go now.”

“I hope this won't
be repeated.” Mycroft gave the man a stern glare. It soon made him
look away.

“I'm sure it
won't,” he mumbled into his shirt, and then backed away.

Whatever Mr Delra
had done to assist them, it had worked. Mycroft got back into the
car and nodded to Daniels to drive on.

He sighed with the
relief of knowing he was following Amelia again now, but he
couldn't help but also feel uncomfortable. Somehow, he expected he
was going to wish at some later date that he didn't owe Mr Delra
for this assistance.

“Go a little
faster, Daniels,” Mycroft said a few seconds later. “I don't think
we need to worry about the speed limits anymore.”

“Yes, sir,”
Daniels replied, making his satisfaction at such an order very
obvious. They still had two-thirds of the distance across Ukraine
to drive, and they were approximately an hour behind. If the
Russians obeyed the speed limits they had a reasonable chance of
catching them.

Mycroft didn't
dwell on what would happen if the Russians sped as well. It
wouldn't change his decisions now. He'd come a long way and pushed
the British monarch too far to turn back. He would only be forgiven
if he delivered somehow.

Not long into the
journey, Sherlock started to fidget.

“I need something
to do. I'm wasted like this,” Sherlock said, ten minutes after
that.

After half a
second's thought, Mycroft reached into one of the storage areas
built into the car and pulled out a small radio receiver.
Immediately, Sherlock's eyes lit up and he pulled a small
screwdriver from his pocket. If the police were following the
progress of the car at all, then there would be chatter on their
radio system. Once Sherlock had adjusted a few components inside,
it should work on the Ukrainian frequencies.

Allowing his
brother to do all the work, Mycroft sat back and waited. Hearing
his brother doing something was much easier to tolerate than the
strange noises he made when he was bored.

Several hours
passed by as Sherlock tried to find Amelia's exact whereabouts and
Mycroft tried to rest and wait. He caught a couple of
fifteen-minute naps throughout the day in between one-sided
conversations from Amelia, but something always woke him. He was
used to silence, not sharing a small space with both his brother
and his chauffeur.

It had been dark
for a couple of hours by the time they reached the outskirts of
Kiev. Still not knowing how far behind Amelia they were, they
refuelled the car, and Daniels and Sherlock both acquired more
food. Mycroft stuck to his stash of biscuits and dried fruit in the
back of the car.

One way or
another, they were about to start the final stretch. He estimated
they were a little under five hours away from the Russian border.
If they had been catching up with Amelia as he expected, they were
still twenty to thirty minutes behind.

“Got something,”
Sherlock said from the passenger seat of the car. While eating,
he'd moved there to keep the smell of the fast food away from the
back of the car. It was a small gesture of understanding towards
Mycroft but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“The police are
keeping tabs on their car as well as ours. They're just the other
side of Kiev.”

“Good, we're
catching up,” Mycroft replied, although it was possible it wasn't
quite fast enough. They were farther behind than he'd hoped.

“I can go a little
faster on the straighter sections, I think.”

“Do,” Sherlock and
Mycroft said in unison, but they needn't have bothered. Daniels was
already putting his foot as far down as it went.

Not long after,
Amelia stirred, obviously getting ready for her regular download of
information.

“Well, it's Amelia
again, Myron. Nothing's changed since I last spoke. I'm stuck in
the back of a car, being driven God knows where by three, maybe
four, Russian men. It's a blue Ford Focus, which, if you were
listening, would probably mean you'd rescued me by now.”

Amelia paused and
exhaled, evidently holding back tears.

“I can't keep
doing this. I'm going to assume you're not listening or able to do
anything to help. I...” Her voice broke off and Mycroft found
himself clenching his fists again. Even Sherlock looked
uncomfortable. “I just want to say, thank you for everything you've
taught me... and tried to teach me. For a short while there life
was pretty awesome.”

Silence filled the
car as everyone looked away from each other. Mycroft swallowed and
tried to exhale slowly, not convinced he could breathe quietly
enough for Sherlock not to notice how discomposed he was. Amelia
was saying goodbye.

“We'll rescue
her,” Sherlock said when it was evident Amelia was done. Mycroft
nodded, knowing they might not.

As the next few
hours passed by, Mycroft could see Daniels getting more and more
tense. He gripped the steering wheel with both his hands, and his
knuckles whitened steadily, while he pushed the car as fast as it
would go whenever it could be done safely.

Although they saw
police cars here and there, not one of them tried to pull them over
for speeding. Just as they were watching the Russians' car speed
past, and not doing anything more than reporting on their progress,
they were reacting the same way to Mycroft's bullet-proof Bentley.
It seemed like the Ukrainians had decided to stay out of the car
chase happening on their roads and hope it moved into Russia
swiftly.

We're about
twenty-two minutes behind,” Sherlock said, looking at the stopwatch
he'd just pressed halt on. The last time Amelia's car had been
mentioned, Sherlock had pressed go. They had just passed the same
stationary police car.

An hour later and
a few minutes into the new day they heard the engine slow as the
car halted somewhere.

“They at the
border?” Daniels asked.

“No. They should
still be a few miles away,” Sherlock replied before Mycroft
could.

“Are they changing
car again, then?”

“It would be the
most logical assumption.”

They fell into
silence again, listening as Amelia wiggled a little, but nothing
else happened for several minutes. Finally someone opened the
boot.

An argument
started up in Russian when one of the men blamed another for doing
a bad job of tying her up. Amelia still didn't react.

They continued to
listen as Amelia moved and brought the attention back to herself.
Mycroft found he was barely listening to the feed. As long as he
picked up on the important information, he just wanted to get there
as swiftly as possible. Just as he was about to turn it down,
Amelia started running.

A thud echoed out
in the car as she hit the ground with both feet and then the bug
bounced along against her skin in rhythm to her movements. In
between each bounce they picked up on the yells.

“She's buying us
time. Floor it, Daniels,” Sherlock said, and then closed his eyes
to better concentrate on the noise being fed through to them.
Mycroft didn't bother; he could easily picture the exact scene.

Every few steps
Amelia grunted when she tripped or caught a foot, and then they
heard a loud whmmph as Amelia went over. Another loud thud and then
the sound of close Russians yelling their triumph let them know
what little extra time she had got for them was now over.

Mycroft considered
turning the feed down for a second time instead of listening to
Amelia being punished once more, but he couldn't quite bring
himself to do it. When no severe beating came, Mycroft raised his
eyebrows.

Either they knew
that Mycroft was close to catching up and didn't want to waste time
or her punishment was something other than a beating. Whichever it
was, he would have to wait to find out.

As they passed a
sign saying the border was only eight miles away he clenched his
jaw. It took all his restraint to fight the emotions coursing
through him and sit in the same position and wait, but with each
mile that ticked by he managed to hold it in.

“There, up ahead,
I think that's them,” Daniels suddenly yelled when he saw a car
drive onto their road from a slipway a quarter of a mile up ahead.
Sherlock and Mycroft both sat forward to get a better look.

“Yes, that's the
car. Drive faster, man.”

“I'm going as fast
as I can.” Daniels stomped his foot on the accelerator, but he was
telling the truth. They couldn't get any more out of the car.

Mycroft could only
watch and will the car closer with his mind while they caught up
metre by metre to the also speeding car in front. When they were
still two hundred metres behind, they caught sight of the Russian
border control. It would all come down to how the guard standing by
the little hut reacted.

“Come on,”
Sherlock said, echoing everyone's thoughts as the Russians got
closer to the border and the guard stayed in his building. As the
guard came out of the hut and finally looked at the incoming cars,
Mycroft exhaled the breath he didn't notice he'd been holding.

Instead of
stopping the car to check their passports, the guard waved his arm
and ushered them through. As soon as they were past him he stepped
out into the road, blocking the Bentley's pursuit.

Daniels slammed on
the breaks, bringing them to a halt only a few metres away from the
reckless man. Mycroft put his head in his hands. Despite it being
too late, he heard Sherlock get out of the car and berate the
Russian for his actions.

As much as he
wanted to do the same, Mycroft knew it was pointless. He couldn't
do a single thing without starting a war between England and
Russia. An old agreement he had with their government tied his
hands. He couldn't even step on their soil.

A few seconds
later, Sherlock got back in the car, slamming the door shut behind
him.