Thank you for the review, Ticker, and thank you to all of those who have read this so far. I hope I am able to make this story interesting for you all. :-)
Chapter Four
9:35pm found her in a skate park decorated with the art of the street, a lurid splash of colors that dominated everything. All around her, the wheels of skateboards rattled along the concrete, clattering upon the landings: Shoop, kssssssh. The boards spun in air, kissed rubber soles in a searing embrace, and said farewell for a short time as they soared free. Bikes―shiny, rusty, short and tall―played along in the endless game of "Who's the better dancer?"
Through this all, Aidan walked. She had come here alone, on foot, searching for whatever lead she could scrounge up. She had learned years ago that the best places for information were the bars and the streets, and that the young and old who frequented these places were better than any other source by far. They and the homeless were the eyes and ears of the city, the information network. And as she passed the territory markings and the occasional slander, the place seemed to enfold her in its embrace. This was her element, not a fancy office or folding jeans in a shop. Her workplace was the streets. They were her gym, her cubicle, her backyard.
Aidan stopped by a boy, mid-teens and middle-class by the look of him, and waited until he finished tying his shoes. "Hey, I'm looking for Luke. You see him around, lately?"
The kid looked up at her, studying her appearance, then nodded sharply. "He's over by the ramp with Benson. You know what he looks like?"
"Yeah, we've met a few times. Thanks."
She left him to return to the rails and headed in the direction of the ramp the kid spoke of. It was one of several in the underground park, but it was definitely the most prominent and decorated. Red and yellow seemed to be the main colors on the rough canvas, but the entirety was dull and faded with wear.
Luke Spurling, one of her old contacts from the last time she was in London, glanced over as she approached and did a double-take. "Nicky?"
Aidan winced. "Don't call me that," she said, feeling the rote of her response moving her lips for her. It wasn't quite the normal exchange, but close enough. "How've you been, Luke?"
"Not bad. Ah, Benson, this is Nic." The tall young man waved a hand in her general direction and shrugged his broad shoulders. He had grown up in her time away, and was no longer a small scraggly kid with a shredded ego. Now he was taller than Sherlock, even, though still quite the beanpole. "She comes to us for info, sometimes. Sweeper, you know. Nic, bud of mine, Benson. His mum works with Scotland Yard."
Aidan and Benson shook hands. "Good to meet you, Benson."
"Yeah. Good to meet you, too." Benson was about a foot shorter than his towering friend, who stood 6'8", but that did nothing to diminish his own stature. He wasn't wiry by any means, but was all lean muscle and unassuming, quiet power. His hands were callused and scarred, indicating that they were used quite heavily, and his handshake spoke of denser bones and joints which in turn spoke of fighting. Not Tae Kwon Do, not Kung Fu, not boxing…and not Karate, either, by the way he held himself. Fascinating. Well, with a mother in law enforcement he wasn't likely to have automatically gone for something obvious.
He withdrew his hand, and she blinked as he stepped back again. Something obscure that predominantly used feet, if she read the body language right. Whatever it was, it was a good choice, and it looked like he had trained his body well for it.
Luke crossed his pale arms, completely the opposite of his friend with his gangly build. Despite this, Aidan knew he was a fast sprinter, and that the Parkour skills belied by his thin arms enabled his getaways even more. "You're not here for pleasure," he said, and Aidan smiled. He was shrewd, and could easily tell when certain things were going on by watching body language as she did.
"No, I'm not," she answered. "C-Rank. The name is Bishop Palmer, and he's wanted for armed robbery. He was last sighted in Sutton, heading toward central London. Bounty's a thousand, and if you get me the lead I need you will receive two hundred from that, one-fifty each if it's the both of you together. You have my number, call when you have the info." She pulled a sheet of paper from her jacket and passed it over. "Here's the poster. Take a good look."
They looked, and she let them study the mark's appearance and provided information. When they were done, she took the poster back and tucked it away. Another look at Benson's hands, and she smiled. "Luke, here, teaching you how to be a traceur?"
Benson nodded, features a bit tight as he watched her. "Yeah, and I'm teaching him some defense techniques."
"Good, very good." Aidan nodded to the both of them and took a step away. "Give me a call when you find anything. Nice to meet you, Benson."
They said farewell and she walked back toward the waning daylight. It had taken her longer than she had thought to find Luke, and though the twilight lingered she knew it would be truly dark in a couple hours. If she wanted an easier time of searching, she had better get on her way now, before the streetlights made recognizing a face difficult.
Her phone, set to vibrate, buzzed before she was halfway down the street. It was from Mike, she saw, and the message that followed set a pep to her steps as she changed direction for the nearest Tube station.
New tip: BP sighted in E Lond.
She forwarded the text to Luke, an old number saved in her phone for this occassion, figuring his help could be useful and wouldn't be too risky for him at the moment. If he didn't actually approach the guy then he shouldn't encounter too much trouble, in theory, and Benson could help the two of them stay safe. The odds, she could say, were enough in the boys' favor that she didn't automatically write off any idea of their aid.
Then Aidan stopped, frowning at the black car parked on the curb in front of her, right where she would have crossed the road. The single security camera on the intersection blinked off, she noticed with trepidation, and then a woman stepped out of the car.
She did nothing, said nothing, but merely stood there with the door open beside her. Her expression was blank, but not forbidding, and something like amusement twinkled in corners of her dark eyes. Aidan stared for a long moment then, with a sigh, took the silent invitation and got in the vehicle.
The woman entered the car after her, closing the door which in turn gave the signal for the driver to pull away from the curb. A hand dipped slowly, open in its movements, into a jacket pocket and removed a cell phone with a sliding keyboard, and Aidan forced herself to relax a bit. Her weapon had not been taken from her, nor had any threatening movements been made as of yet. The entire situation put her on edge, but she knew that no answers would be forthcoming. She would simply have to wait until they arrived at their destination.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, the car pulled into an empty warehouse. The headlights lit up the open space, the lone occupant of the building silhouetted by the white beams. As the car shut off, the headlights dying, the warehouse lights compensated for the difference and cast strange shadows on the ground. There was no one else there, no chairs and no weird shapes. Aidan got out, followed by the woman and the driver, and faced the man with grudging respect.
"Brilliant, I have to say," she confessed. "You obviously know who and what I am, and what makes me twitchy. Open building, no chance of anyone hiding. Windows are blocked off, the rafters clearly lit, so no snipers either. You had your people get out of the car so I could keep an eye on them, and you stand with no weapon or potential weapon in your possession save for that umbrella, which is just an umbrella. You also haven't taken my gun from me, which means you want me to retain some sense of control, and you don't want to be seen as my enemy." She narrowed her eyes at him, taking in his stance and his features. "I don't know you, though."
The man who had sent for her, clearly, twirled his umbrella then held it in both hands. "No, you don't, and you wouldn't. I will be straight with you, Ms. Mallory, which as anyone can tell you is quite unusual when meeting me for the first time."
"Yes, you seem the enigmatic sort." She narrowed her eyes. "You're the one who's been stalking me with the CCTVs, aren't you? And based on Mike's comment earlier, you have some sort of connection with one of my new housemates."
"Indeed, and I must apologize for the intrusion. I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother. I hold a minor position in the British government-"
"Which is to say," she interrupted, "and having experienced first-hand your privileges, you're in the best position of the British government to have fingers, eyes, and ears in everything."
"Quite." Mycroft smiled, and it seemed to be a pleased sort of smile. "I must confess that if I had to choose anyone to move into Baker Street, you're a fine candidate with your observational skills. That will keep Sherlock off your back if you demonstrate them to him, or it might bring him to feel he must compete with you. Ms. Mallory, why did you choose this location?"
Aidan blinked. "You know what my situation is, right?"
"Indeed. In hiding from certain individuals, from what I've gathered." He lifted his umbrella tip and examined it as he spoke, then set the end on the concrete floor. "You do realize that I am not pleased with you bringing your troubles to my country, to my city, and to my brother's home."
"I wouldn't expect anything less." Aidan crossed hr arms. "You're not making it any better, you know. The less I'm on camera, the less chance I'll be found. Your systems aren't secure enough."
"I have the highest security in the country, Ms. Mallory."
"Perhaps, but it's still not secure enough. Erase all footage of me, and any searches you've done on me." She froze, a thought dawning… "You didn't talk to Sam about me, did you?"
"Agent Isaacs, no. I am not ignorant of the fact that no one knows where you are, excepting Michael Yates. I suppose I could call him your handler, since you are not in substantial contact with the IBI at this moment. I will be speaking with him, of course."
"He seems to know who you are, somehow. But choosing here, of all places… I had a list of a hundred forty-three different addresses that were safe to hide away in. I gave allusions to the western states in America, so no one will be looking in Europe yet. I have a prearranged status code, so I won't be alarming your brother when I reassure Sam of my safety when in his presence. I don't want him to know of my occupation, not if I can help it. He's content in thinking he knows me, and what I do, so I'm not too worried about him going digging." She straightened, holding her head high. "And I'm requesting, for my safety, that you stop."
Mycroft was silent for a minute or so. As he looked at her, mind no doubt going as fast as―or even faster than―his brother's, she held herself resolute. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it. Now was not a time to be distracted.
The elder Holmes brother smiled. "Don't you want to get that?"
Aidan crossed her arms again, having let them drop in her relief at Mycroft's discretion. "If it's important, it will go to voicemail." She could only think of four people who would be calling her―Mrs. Hudson, John, Mike, or Luke. There was no reason why John would be calling, and Mrs. Hudson knew she was out at work and would be home late. Given the events of the night, it was likely Luke with that lead she needed. Time to wrap up this meeting, then.
Mycroft seemed to recognize her intent. "I am still not happy with your decision to lodge here, Ms. Mallory, but I highly doubt I'll get anywhere in persuading you to go elsewhere. So I have an offer for you instead."
The woman frowned. "What sort of offer?"
"Not one that would require much exertion on your part, but I figure I ought to take advantage of this opportunity as it presents itself. I would like you to keep an eye on Sherlock for me. He is very resourceful, you see, and often is able to evade my attempts at keeping track of him."
Aidan went still. "You want me to spy on him."
"Yes. For his safety, I assure you. You'd simply be reporting when he's gone out of the house and when he's returned, and where you go together. There was an incident a while ago, you see, in which he had to fake his death to preserve the lives of his few friends. I do not want his life to be in danger again, though I know all too well that his line of work makes this a vain hope. And with John married and living elsewhere, he does not have a constant presence with fighting experience around."
"So you want me to spy on him," she said, feeling hung up on that idea. Nothing sat well in her about that thought.
He nodded. "Yes, I do. Well, not so much spying as informing, reporting. I'd rather you were the least involved in Sherlock's life as possible, but those who live near him tend to get sucked into the vortex of his life. You may try to stay away, Ms. Mallory, but you won't be able to. Your supposed job as a bartender presents the ready availability of rumors to him, and he will draw on that at some point. He will drag you along, and you will not be able to resist that lure. You crave the adventure; you wouldn't be a Sweeper, otherwise."
Aidan shifted her balance to her heels and frowned. The thought was not very appealing, given her situation. But this informing business needed to be dealt with first, before it could cause problems. "I apologize, but I can't. What you're asking me to do goes against my conscience."
He was not fazed much. "You ask others to do so, do you not?"
Her smile was flat and thin. "Your analogy fails. Sherlock is not a criminal."
Mycroft regarded her with what seemed to be concern. "Is there no way I can convince you? I could pay you handsomely for your services."
"No, Mr. Holmes. Mycroft. Whatever you want me to call you." She sighed. "Sherlock's business is his own, and I don't want to become involved in it. Look, I appreciate the fact that you're worried for your brother. I would be, too. But I'm not a spy, I'm not a busybody. I cannot tell you when he goes out, when he comes in, and where he drags me if he ever does. But-" She tilted her head to the side, an idea dawning. "You say you're worried since John doesn't live there anymore. I can protect him, when he's near. I can even shadow him on his more dangerous cases. Just give me a call, and I'll go see if he needs protection or not. If he does, then I'll keep to the background and stop whoever tries to hurt him. And if he ever does drag me along―perish the thought―then I'll keep an eye out then, too. I just won't tell you what he's up to, not anything you can't find out on your own."
He opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated the process. A couple goes at this, and he stopped to think about it. She waited, half wishing she had stopped to think before she proposed this alternative. After all, wasn't she trying to distance herself from people, to not get close to them? This active involvement in her housemate's life would not contribute to this goal.
Mycroft nodded after a short time. "This is acceptable. How would you like me to pay you for your services?"
Aidan winced and ran a hand through her hair in agitation. Okay, so she had just signed herself up to be a bodyguard. Well, she could work with this. "All I want is help with my cover story, and a special license for carrying my firearm. Talk to Mike and he'll fill you in. If he wants confirmation that I sent you his way, tell him I said that Luke is on the job for hunting down Palmer."
She took a step back, keeping the driver and the woman in view as she did so. "If that is all?"
Mycroft blinked, then waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Of course. You may go if you wish. Would you like a ride to your destination?"
Aidan wrinkled her nose. "Too showy. My target would be gone by the time I entered the building. Well, it's been fun. This is where I say goodbye, good riddance, you're annoying."
He chuckled, obviously amused. "Yes, well. Do stay alive, Ms. Mallory."
She turned her back and left the warehouse. The black car drove past her through the open doors when she paused to check her phone, and she paid it only as much attention as she needed to. It was Luke who had called, and her lips curled upwards at what the call meant.
"Hey, Nic. Tip paid out, BP is in an old flat above the bar by the skate park with the creepy door. Boys say he's gone every afternoon, drinks in the bar every evening, and then goes upstairs where he stays until the next afternoon. He's in the bar now, but it's close to the time that he goes upstairs. Benson wants to know if you want backup. We'll be in the skate park if you do. Nice to have you back in town, by the way. See you around."
Aidan put her phone away and walked away from the warehouse. Let the fun begin.
Edited 6-11-14