The Invisible Amateur (5 page)

Less than a minute
later a man on his way back from the bathroom caught his foot on
the far table leg. She looked at him as he tripped, as did
Sebastian. When Amelia refocused her attention, she noticed the
waiter's tip was gone.

“Sebastian, that
man just stole...”

“I know,” he
replied, already getting to his feet. “Be right back.”

She watched him
hurry after and simply brush past the guy, grabbing his arm and
whispering something. Sebastian then circled around to come back to
their table.

“Got it,” he said
and held up the note between two fingers.

“You picked his
pocket!”

Sebastian
grinned.

“That's not all,”
he said as he reached for the dessert menu, opened it and handed it
to her. Instantly, her eyes were drawn to the chocolate brownie
picture. When she glanced back up for Sebastian to continue and
explain the rest, she noticed he was still grinning at her.

As she looked at
the other table, she gasped. The money was back where it had
started, tucked under the empty glass. While she was sitting,
wide-eyed and unable to speak, the waiter cleared the table. He
then came over to them, pulling his menu device from his
pocket.

“She'll have the
chocolate brownie,” Sebastian said before they'd even been asked.
She laughed, and it broke the hold on her voice.

“That was amazing.
Will you explain how you did it?” she asked when they were alone
together again.

“I can teach you,
if you like?”

Delight stretched
her mouth into a grin as she nodded. She'd very much like to learn
how to do the subtle but difficult acts he'd just performed.

She ate her
dessert as quickly as she could, which wasn't particularly fast
after so much food, and pulled out her purse to pay. Sebastian
shook his head and pushed it back towards her.

“You need the
money more than I, and this was my idea. If they even let us pay.”
He fished a card out from his inside jacket pocket, but as he'd
suggested, they weren't allowed to pay but ushered from the
building with smiles.

Excitement made
Amelia's pulse race, so they took a taxi back to Baker Street. As
soon as they walked in, Mrs Wintern noticed and come out of her
flat.

“If you want tea
this late you will have to make it yourself. Although I'm sure
that's not what you two young people had in mind this late at
night.”

For a second,
Amelia didn't know what to say. Mrs Wintern was normally so prim
and proper, and she'd just insinuated that Amelia was there to
sleep with Sebastian. It was even more of a surprise when Sebastian
didn't deny it. Instead, he continued on to his flat as if she
hadn't said anything.

“Creative minds
are never good at respecting bed times,” Amelia said before
following him up the stairs. With her intentions firmly fixed on
Myron still, she didn't want a single person to think her involved
with the younger Holmes brother.

“Right, let's get
started.” Sebastian pulled his coat off, hung it on the coat stand
and moved it to the centre of the room. After looking about the
room, he picked up a pack of cards and slipped one out.

“We'll start with
this. I'll teach you how to pick a pocket first. It's the easiest
part. Then we can work on doing it discreetly, and after that,
doing the opposite.”

Amelia nodded as
he came back across the room towards her, swishing the bottom of
the coat tails as he did.

“You use just two
fingers.” He held up the first and second finger on his right hand
where the card had been.

“Where is it?” she
asked.

“In the pocket
already.” He showed her the motion she needed to do to take the
card back out again. It took her several attempts at copying him
before he was happy she had the basic technique right.

“Now let's make it
a little harder.” Sebastian took the coat back and encouraged her
to pull the card from his pocket without him noticing. He closed
his eyes and held still in the middle of the room.

After taking a
deep breath, Amelia walked past him and reached into the pocket.
Before her fingers had touched the top of the card, Sebastian
grabbed her wrist.

“I could feel
you,” he said. “Try again.”

Over the next half
an hour she tried again and again, but every time Sebastian caught
hold of her, and she noticed he didn't always let her go again very
quickly. Deciding she wasn't completely comfortable with the
situation anymore, she yawned.

“I think I'm too
tired. I should go back to the hotel.”

“We can continue
tomorrow...”

“Perhaps,” she cut
him off, not wanting to hear what he might say next. “I should wait
to see if your brother intends to teach me first.”

After thanking him
she hurried out into the night, making sure nothing else could
happen. When she'd settled back into a taxi she almost hit herself.
It was foolish to fear that Sebastian would be interested in her.
He just wasn't looking for a relationship, and was already aware
she preferred his elder brother.

The day had taken
its toll on her and she wasn't thinking straight any more. With
silly ideas of immortal men, and now this, she almost laughed aloud
at herself. She needed sleep, and she needed it soon.

Mycroft paced his
study. Several days had passed with Amelia in London, and every day
increased the possibility that she'd be found. On top of that,
she'd been exhibiting some strange behaviour. The things she'd
searched on the internet had him concerned, but didn't appear to
have revealed any important information. It had shown her to be far
more curious about him than expected. She'd also spent more time
with his younger brother than he'd anticipated.

A couple of old
agents were taking shifts and keeping an eye on her, but neither
would be happy to do so much longer, and already they were getting
suspicious about his desire to keep tabs on her. He needed to
figure out what Mr Delra had said to the ruling monarch to get her
to allow the Russians to leave. Twice he'd thought he was close to
an answer.

There was no doubt
in his mind that it was information the terrorists were using to
get their way. The royal family had several secrets, as any large
family in power did. Most of them had been protected by Mycroft
over the years, but occasionally they made a mistake and more
people found out or were involved in some sort of scandal.

Earlier in the
year he'd retrieved some compromising photos of one of the young
women, but they were an unlikely threat over the heads of the
family. A scandal if they came out, but not a disaster. He'd
investigated it anyway and those were safe.

His second line of
enquiry was an illness that had been treated by a doctor not
recommended by Mycroft. The medical records were still sealed and
safe. It left four possibilities, and all of them had implications
that could take several years to unravel. Any of the four would be
enough to garner the reaction of the royal family.

Mycroft needed to
know more, but his hands were tied. He couldn't pursue the Russians
until he knew what they had, if they were the ones who had it, and
he couldn't ask for help from his younger brother through official
channels.

He sighed and
called Daniels to get the car ready. He needed space to think, and
that meant a trip to the Diogenes Club. It had taken them several
weeks, but the members had just about forgiven him for the
disturbance Amelia had made. At least, most had. None of them
scowled when they saw him, but there was still an extra layer of
frostiness to the usual silence. Given enough time, even that would
pass.

As soon as Mycroft
walked in, he felt the familiar sensation of relaxation. The
threads of half-finished ideas in his head unravelled from their
tangled mess and allowed him to focus on one at a time. He followed
the butler to his usual room and stopped in the doorway when he
noticed another occupant. A single glance let him know it was
Sherlock dressed as an older man. The butler thought this was their
father. Mycroft had been their father twice before that. It helped
them look like a normal family to any people who knew them over a
prolonged period.

He gave Sherlock a
nod of acknowledgement and went to his usual seat. Right where his
tea tray would be placed in a couple of minutes was a sheet of
paper. On it Sherlock had written a message in their own code and
the alphabet they'd made up when they were children. It required a
perfect memory of the original French version of the Count of Monte
Cristo, as well as the knowledge and memory of what all the lines
and squiggles meant in their personal example of an alphabet. Both
of them were fluent in it.

Impressed that his
brother had the sense to use it now when it was imperative their
communication was confidential, Mycroft started reading.

Still no lead
from boat owner. Thinking of giving him a nudge. You've been
awfully quiet on the matter. Also the brandy isn't as good as it
was last time I paid you a visit.

Mycroft picked up
the pen and wrote out a reply, taking very little time to do
something most people would struggle with.

A nudge would
be a good idea. He will be trying to convince himself he lost the
coin. I assume you still have it to send back with a helpful note.
When he does make a move, don't go to the address until you have
informed me. I will be handling the next stage personally. I think
this brandy is better.

After tea arrived
for both of them, Mycroft handed the note back and watched in
silence as Sherlock read it. His younger brother raised his
eyebrows and frowned. The reply he then furiously wrote out was not
going to be a surprise to Mycroft. It was unexpected for the elder
Holmes to want to attend as well, and Sherlock would want to know
why.

Not like you.
Has the situation changed? Is Amelia still safe?

The last question
was an unanticipated one, but Mycroft paused for only a second with
the pen in his hand.

Amelia in no
more danger than before, and situation similar enough. I can handle
it. Don't interfere. Give owner a nudge and report results to
me.

When the message
was passed back to Sherlock, his younger brother rolled his eyes
but he didn't argue. Seconds later the piece of paper was feeding
the fire in the grate, and not long after that it was gone.

They sat together
in silence for a few more minutes, drinking tea and thinking.
Mycroft could tell his brother wasn't happy with not being told
every detail, but Mycroft knew it wasn't a secret they'd entrusted
anywhere else, and that meant it was a secret he was responsible
for alone. If Sherlock found out about it Mycroft would be
betraying that confidence.

Half an hour later
Mycroft still hadn't disclosed any more information. Finally,
Sherlock gave up and left. When it came to patiently sitting
through and waiting for a result, Mycroft had always been the
brother best suited to the task.

Although he
couldn't have predicted Sherlock's presence there, Mycroft sat back
in his chair, already satisfied that his trip to the Diogenes Club
was fruitful. His brother might give Mycroft's tasks the lowest
priority for solving, but at some point he always ran out of cases,
and even Amelia's frequent visits weren't enough to stave off the
inevitable boredom. Sherlock was unpredictable for this one
reason.

To keep the royal
family content and oblivious to Mycroft's dealings behind the
scenes, he spent the rest of the afternoon solving a security issue
with their palace in Sandringham. One of the maids had compromised
their system. When Mycroft had seen her CV he hadn't been
surprised, but no one else had picked up on the obvious issues.

He wasn't willing
to read the paperwork of every applicant to one of the royal
households, so he had been ordered to detail as many indicators of
a problem as he could. They'd got the notion into their minds that
some young technology geek could write a computer program to do it
for them. It wouldn't work, but it amused him to see them try and
replace his expertise.

When he was
satisfied he appeared to be working on what others wanted, he went
back to his house. For now, all he could do was wait, and that
wasn't a task he struggled with. He might even take a short
walk.

Amelia sat down to
sip the tea Mrs Wintern had just shown up with, and Sebastian
joined her, sitting opposite in his usual chair.

“You're getting
much better. You'd fool the average person now,” he said, and she
detected the hint of smugness in his voice. He was pleased with her
progress because it reflected well on his teaching capabilities,
but it was a compliment and she'd take it. It was also obvious he
meant that he still noticed her taking the card from the pocket of
the coat rigged with bells on it. She could do it silently, but he
still saw, and they hadn't got as far as doing the opposite of
putting something inside a pocket or tucking it under a glass as he
had the money while in the restaurant.

In the few days
since being in London she'd learnt a lot and spent the entire time
practising one task or another based on the directions of the
Holmes brothers. It made her feel tired, but at the same time
pleased. It was a taste of a more exciting life, one where she
wasn't always at home by herself. The two most anti-social men in
the world had let her in enough to show her she might just be able
to fit into their worlds, and she didn't want it to stop.

“Has my brother
given you another lesson?” Sebastian asked a few minutes later. She
shook her head.