Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to Sherlock Holmes. That all belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as I'm sure you know.
Chapter Nine: A Strenuous Situation
Rebecca swallowed hard and dropped her fork on the table before looking over her shoulder to see two men standing in the doorway, watching the situation closely. Anxiety was flowing through her veins as the military man shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Sebastian, surely you are not-" She trailed off, but he simply raised a hand.
"Rebecca, I am not here to speak casually with you. I am here to discuss business which I have been sent to do by a colleague of mine. Both you and I know who your former husband crossed in the wrong way and all I need is for you to tell me where the damn papers are," He said slowly and firmly, looking directly at her.
Despite the clarity of his words, she could not help but think back to the man she once respected in the marksman. She simply shook her head, trying to figure out just how she was going to get out of this situation. Nervously, she smoothed the napkin on her lap and looked back to the marksmen face, smiling," Colonel Moran, you've come quite a ways down hill."
He did not return the smile, but simply told her," I just want information."
"And I understand," She answered curtly, taking a sip of her water. "I can give you the information that you need."
"I'm glad that you understand the severity of the situation in which you are dealing with," He said back to her finally, he smirked.
Quickly, the wheels inside her head were turning, thinking of a ploy that she could send him on, that was believable. Her words began coming out more quickly than she could completely process them," You know that I was in London last weekend and I presume that you had a careful eye on me for the entire trip."
He nodded, carefully paying attention.
Instantly, her mind thought to the symbols she had placed on the bottom of each of her pages on the notebook. The symbols were there merely for a matter of organization, but that could easily be manipulated...
"Actually, you took something of mine that was rather dear to both myself and to Adrien," She said to him, moving her silverware closer to the edge of the table, obviously crafting something in her mind.
"The sketchbook," Moran affirmed, as if reading her mind.
"Yes, that is correct. If you looked at the symbols in the corner of the-"
"Corners of the pages," He interrupted, nodding his head before motioning to the waiter standing in the door to bring in the main course. "I thought this would be the case."
She thought that, perhaps, she could get him to believe that she no longer had the sketchbook," It's a shame, really that you had to take such a thing from me. I'd actually be very interested to know how you obtained it-"
"Cut this nonsense, Rebecca," He shook his head as he leaned back in his seat. "Both you and I know that you were miraculously able to receive your valuable little notebook."
"Oh," She raised her brow at him. "And how do you know that I have the sketchbook, Colonel?"
"Well," He paused. "It only seems plausible for you to have it. When it was apprehended from you, it was only a matter of hours before it was re-taken again, remarkably enough from one of the men transporting it to a safer location. You may remember these men as the ones who shot at you."
This, she could definitely have a little fun with.
"Suppose that one of your men dropped the sketchpad?" She asked amused by her own question, but his face remained stoic. She tried again. "If your men remember correctly, I was not entirely alone on this little wild chase, now was I? There was a strange man-"
"Someone in cohorts with you," He growled, obviously irate with the seamstress.
"No, no, no colonel. I am afraid you are mistaken," She argued, trying to sound as honest as she could. "I know this man as much as you know him. I am simply stating a possible place in which this sketchpad could have been…snatched from. Anything I had regarding Mr. Dubois was taken from my possession."
For a minute, he stared directly at her. During this time, she took a last bite of her salad before drinking the remains of her water. Indeed, she did have the sketchpad which was locked safely away under the floorboards of her home. There was no way that they could ever discover where. She had it carefully placed not only under the floorboards, but also locked away in a crafty safe that she had found at an open market before. Her plan was succeeding in getting him off-topic. If he could get off on meaningless tangents, then it would be impossible for him to further press her for information that he desired.
Suddenly, his eyes shifted from her and looked to the door frame where Rebecca could hear the shuffle of feet. Presumably, another two or three of his men were standing in the door, informing him of something. He nodded to them before looking back to her, leaning forward as he pushed the salad aside.
Just as he put the salad beside, the waiter came back and took the plates before setting two glasses of wine on the table, in addition to the main course, which appeared to be a meat, foreign to Rebecca with a nice garnish on top of it. It appeared to be quite the hearty meal and the fact that he had ordered for her did not surprise her, but intrigued her rather. She studied her meal closely before her eyes shifted to the glass of wine. Common knowledge was that any man insisted that a woman drink with him was not to be trusted whether it be for personal or business affairs.
"What you mean to tell me is that there is absolutely nothing of value in that little shop of yours?" He asked her, narrowing his eyes. "And by valuable, I mean, anything. The sketchpad…the papers Mr. Dubois left you."
She swallowed casually before answering," There is nothing of interest to you there."
"You see, Mrs. Dubois," He said, leaning back once more. "Those papers are valuable to both myself and you. In fact, they may be more of sentimental value to you while to me, they are what I need in order to fix a corrupt business deal that your ex-husband incepted. I'm sure that I can find other ways of discovering just what your little husband did to my colleague and I, but that is all you have."
"What are you insinuating?" She shot at him. "I have no further interest in my swine of a husband."
"Suppose I had men waiting for my call, standing outside of your shop with explosives. You mean to tell me that if I give them the okay, then you will feel no pain from this? No documents will be lost? No pieces of your precious, excuse me, swine of a husband, shattered?"
The reality of this statement hit her moments after he had actually spoke the words. He wasn't simply speaking theoretically…he must have actually meant what he was saying. This meant that she had to act and fast. She knew that he was setting her up for something, but she just did not know what. She hoped that she was not over thinking this meal, but it was the only risk she had left to take: plan an escape. It was getting much too personal now.
"Well, I think this was not necessarily be accurate. I've plenty of garments in that shop of value-" She started spewing off, but he simply shook his head.
"Those can be recreated, Mrs. Dubois."
Carefully, she shifted her silverware even closer to the edge of the table, hoping that this plan she was crafting inside her head would work out as the colonel watched the seamstress, as if waiting for her to eat or speak.
She noted that he had not touched his plate and he was simply waiting for her. This could have meant that the food was spoiled and he wished for her to plunge in first or this meant that he was playing mind games with her and wished that she would over think everything. There was something about the way the wine settled that made her nervous-uneasy rather. However, the glass was filled half-way, just as any average wine glass should be. She glanced behind her to see that the doorframe was empty and that it truly was just the colonel and herself.
Mentally, she noted just where the balance support to the table was and imagined just the right position of her foot. The decision she was making would either save her completely or ruin any chance she had at getting out of this problem. She would have to make an impact with the table at just the right angle and swap the glasses as swiftly as she knew how.
Her heart seemed to be beating out of her chest and he was rambling on more and more questions, but she was not paying the slightest bit of attention to him. At just the right moment, she crashed her leg against the beam of the table, interrupting the conversation, shaking the wine glasses, and dropping her silverware off the table, several inches away. Nervously and slightly embarrassed, she smirked at him and apologized.
"A little uneasy, are we?" He pressed, eyeing her warily as he grabbed the gun, as if suspecting something and bending nearly out of his chair to retrieve the silverware.
The moment was simply pristine. Checking over her shoulder once more to see that they were indeed alone, she delicately grabbed her glass and slid it precisely to the position in which his was located. Hurriedly, she lifted his and casually held it in her hand, as if it were her own. As she sat back in her chair, smiling, while he leaned back up and placed the fork and knife in front of her.
"Ever the gentleman, as always," She said, still sporting a smile before sipping the wine in the glass, hoping that her gut instinct had been correct.
As the liquid traveled down her throat, she felt the gaze of the colonel watching her as he hesitantly lifted his own glass, as if her drinking the liquid was enough affirmation for him to drink his. Every prayer that Rebecca had remembered from her sparse church attendance was being sent up as she waited to see just what was to happen.
"Colonel, you say that you are prepared to destroy my shop, but I pose a question to you," She stated, watching him drink another gulp of the wine before setting her own glass down. "Do you honestly believe that I would not report such activity to the police? Do you think that even for a moment, I would allow you to leave, unscathed?"
"You've no evidence. In fact, my colleague thought of this exact situation," There was a pause as he turned to cough into his arm, nothing suspicious, but simply a cough rather. " He has a tendency to go to extremes in order to leave…no…loose…ends."
She raised her brow before nodding her head, slowly watching him," No loose ends, eh?"
"Yes," Again, he coughed into his arm, making Rebecca become slightly anxious. "Something you may not fully comprehend. Loose ends are exactly what led me to find you again."
Chuckling, she replied," Perhaps, but I suspect that this was a special exception, as well. You knew me previously despite the business matters. I'd say that you had an unfair advantage."
He smirked," Perhaps-" And he was about to speak once more, but the casual coughing had turned into a rather thunderous chain of coughs, deep coughs. Something, was array and she couldn't help but think that this was the signal she was waiting for. Slowly, his fit of coughing slowed, but his eyes were lazy and consciousness was slipping from his grasp.
Still, they were alone with no eyes on them. Swiftly, she moved over to the man that had suddenly turned from consciousness to a dull state in a matter of minutes. Though she had no knowledge of medicine, she supposed this could have been the result of an experimental medicine that he had intended for her. She slowly stood up and walked over to his side of the table, leaning over to him. As she stood beside him, she carefully slid her hand down his jacket as he slid forward, falling from reality, pulling the gun from his possession.
Though she would have been esteemed to continue the search to find just what else this man was hiding, but she assumed she would have little time before her beloved shop was destroyed or they were invaded by his fellow cronies.
His glassy eyes looked at her, as if glaring while she lingered over his shoulder, whispering right in his ear," I'm not so much a fool to be sedated twice, Sebastian. You will have to find a more clever way to figure out how to tie up this loose end."
Softly, she pecked his cheek before turning and looking at the gun which she had swiped from him. Carefully, she lifted the wine glass which he had drank from, much too quickly. She dumped the remains of his drink into her previous glass and noticed a white, thick residue laying at the bottom of his, that was originally intended for her. She stuck two fingers to his neck, feeling that he still had a pulse. She assumed he would not die for his intentions were not to kill Rebecca, but simply take her out of the equation and retrieve her valuable information.
Swiftly, she checked the ammunition in the gun while strolling toward the exit and swore under her breath before looking back at the English man, now completely out of consciousness. He was too intelligent to completely fall for her ploy.
The gun was empty.
A/N: Well, the good news is that finals are over and I can now write more frequently. As of now, it appears that this story still is not very popular, so it may go on the back burner-I will still update it, but not as often as my other story. I hope that those of you who are reading enjoyed this chapter and continue to let me know what you think! :D
