[AN] - Apologies for the egregiously long delay, but hopefully some fun times in this chapter will be sufficient for forgiveness...
"That's a cool building," said Jane absently as she looked out at a large and imposing stone building with large black doors flanked by armed guards. She had been quiet until now and Maura and Mugsie looked up in surprise.
"Saint James' Palace," Maura replied, peering over Jane's shoulder.
"Not very palatial."
Mugsie chuckled. "It's five hundred years old and survived countless wars not to mention the London Blitz. You'll have to forgive it's less than opulent appearance."
"It's still technically the location of the Royal Court of England," Maura added with some enthusiasm. "It was built by Henry VIII during the Tudor era."
Jane glanced at them with a faint smirk. "That's the dude with a million wives, right?"
Maura swatted Jane's arm as Mugsie choked back a laugh. "I believe the official count stands at eight for His Majesty, Detective."
Jane fell silent again as Nigel carefully steered the Range Rover through London's busy streets as he took them back to the imposing intelligence building. The sidewalks were more crowded though the press of humanity was strangely colorless; endless dark overcoats and black umbrellas with only the rare flash of color.
"You were quite smooth back there, you know," Jane commented to Mugsie "Making them think the satchel was already at your office without actually lying."
Mugsie smirked. "Deflection and redirection are invaluable skills, for human interactions as well as digital ones." She cocked her head as she regarded Jane. The lanky detective was clearly pensive. "What are you thinking?"
Jane leaned back and sighed. "Something smells funny," she admitted after a moment. "And no, I don't mean literally," she added at Maura's confused expression. " They were pretty obviously expecting the satchel to be with us and the only person besides us who knew about the satchel is your boss, yet we had Starsky and Hutch show up asking about it. If it's due to a mole, they aren't being very subtle."
"Starsky and Hutch?" asked Mugsie with a bewildered expression.
"Nevermind," sighed Jane. "Your boss wouldn't have said anything, right?"
Mugsie shook her head. "That would be a fairly extreme violation of protocol. Any foreign agents would be introduced at headquarters or some other secured location. Had Sir Edward intended this, he would have notified me directly."
"Here we are ladies," Nigel announced cheerfully. "Will you be needing me later?"
Maura smiled. "Thank you, Nigel, I'll call if necessary."
She accepted Jane's hand as she stepped out of the car, and as they approached the doors two men in dark suits approached them. One was taller, a mop of white blonde hair over a tanned face. His companion was pale and freckled, with close cropped red hair cut slicked back.
"Lady Margaret," began the taller man, but broke off at Mugsie's outraged sputter. Behind him the redhead smothered a snort with a cough.
"Really, Chas?" Mugsie said with exasperation before turning back to Jane and Maura. "Detective Jane Rizzoli and Doctor Maura Isles, this is Chas Lennox and Ashley Smythe, agents of questionable judgement regarding women and terrible taste in drinks, but generally tolerable in other circumstances."
The men nodded politely before leveling twin glares at the blonde.
Jane chuckled. "You're really selling your people here, Mugsie."
"Don't worry gentlemen," Maura reassured the two men. "I can assure you Mugsie's taste in men is as questionable as they come."
"Maura!"
"Good to know, Doctor," rumbled Smythe. His voice was a rich baritone, surprisingly deep for such a lean frame. "Before Lennox forgot he was promised a lingering death if he kept referring to Mugsie via her title, we were actually sent to escort you to Sir Edward's office."
Mugsie's eyebrow went up but she merely said, "Well then, by all means."
Smythe lead the way down a new corridor, more lushly appointed and ending in an opulent reception area with leather seats and luxuriant wood inlayed tables. A beautiful woman with pale skin and dark hair sat behind a desk, a communications headset in place as she she typed a rapid staccato, occasionally speaking quietly into her mouthpiece. Finally she hit a button on her computer and rose gracefully from her desk, her eyes fixed on Mugsie.
"Lady Margaret, it's been too long."
Jane was surprised to see Mugsie's face slip carefully into a neutral expression.
"Miss Lytton. A pleasure as always." Her voice was excruciatingly polite.
Miss Lytton's gaze was cool as she took in the rest of the group, then turned and headed towards dark double doors. "Sir Edward is expecting you."
"Well that wasn't awkward at all," Jane murmured to Maura as they followed the dark-haired women into the next room.
Maura nodded, her expression thoughtful.
They passed through a second set of double doors to find Sir Edwards seated behind a leather topped desk, deeply engrossed with a thick file folder. The walls of his office were covered with bookcases, and several chairs and couches were clustered near a huge fireplace. Behind the desk was a large antique photograph of a man in military uniform dripping with braids and medals, and Jane found herself drawn to it. The man in the portrait was posed, leaning somewhat stiffly against an ornate wooden table, the hilt of a sword visible under his hand. Old-fashioned spectacles perched on his nose, and through them his expression showed a man filled with a steely resolve.
"Sir Vernon Kell, founder of British intelligence." Sir Edward's voice interrupted Jane's inspection.
Jane's gaze dropped to see him rise and approach them. "He reminds me of my Lieutenant. Looks like a guy who's seen a lot."
Sir Edward gestured for everyone to sit down. "A forward thinker. The concept of an intelligence service was deemed somehow unsporting or even dishonorable by many of his contemporaries."
"A pity he was rewarded for his devotion to our nation's security by being sacked," Mugsie remarked as she sank onto a nearby wing chair.
"Indeed." Sir Edward frowned over his glasses at her, then turned to his assistant who still hovered haughtily nearby. "Thank you, Beatrice, that will be all."
"Of course, Sir Edward." Miss Lytton pressed her lips together in annoyance, but merely nodded and cast one last unfriendly glance at Mugsie before retreating through the double doors, closing them behind her.
"Awwwkwaaaard," Jane whispered to Maura who rolled her eyes and nudged Jane into silence as Mugsie summarized their earlier meeting with Lovász and Szendrey.
"Most unusual," Sir Edward said after a long pause. "We will of course make inquiries." He gestured at Lennox. "Mr. Lennox, please ask Miss Lytton to confirm our Hungarian friends' credentials with the appropriate parties."
Jane was sure she caught a small eye roll from the blonde agent and bit back a smirk as he exited.
"Let us assume they are as they say, legitimate representatives of Hungarian law enforcement," he continued. "What is their interest in the satchel and how does it relate to our missing person?"
Maura reached down and pulled the battered satchel from her oversized tote. Sir Edward's eyebrow lifted and he steepled his fingers as Maura handed it to Lennox who in turn set it on a nearby table and pulled it open, revealing the mouldering paperwork.
"We had a look," Jane drawled. "If you've got a way of recovering what's on those soggy mess it might tell you something interesting."
"There was nothing else?"
Jane glanced at Maura who promptly said, "A small key. It's in the front pocket there."
Sir Edward immediately leaned forward as Smythe pulled the small key from where Maura indicated.
Smythe poked at the damp mound thoughtfully after handing the key to the curious bureau chief. "The ink has clearly run and the papers have somewhat melded together. I suspect it will be difficult, but perhaps not impossible, to get something."
Sir Edward turned the key over in his hands, deep in thought.
"Is it likely the target was even Katalin at all?" Mugsie wondered as she too leaned forward to pick at the papers.
"It's hard to imagine any reason why Katalin — Doctor Farkas," she said as an aside to the men, "would be the primary target. She didn't know Ian for more than an hour before the explosion. She was only holding his satchel to keep it out of the way while he carried her to the lifeboat due to her injury. It strains credulity that somehow she was the target on her own doing."
Jane leaned forward. "That said, how many people knew that she had Ian's satchel to know to grab her in the first place?" She shook her head. "Something's missing here."
"I agree," said Smythe, while Mugsie nodded.
Sir Edward stood, clearly bringing their discussion to a close. "Well then, don't let me keep you. I'll expect daily reports, of course?"
"Of course, sir," Mugsie replied.
They met Lennox on their way out. "Our friends from the Rendőrség check out," he reported, then shook his head. "But this whole thing feels right odd."
Smythe still held the satchel gingerly in his hands. In the still air of the office the musty smell emanating from it was growing quite strong. "I'll take this down to the technicians to see what they can do with it, shall I?" He paused, then looked back at the closed door behind them in chagrin. "Sir Edward still has the key."
Miss Lytton gracefully interposed herself between him and the door when he turned to go back. "Sir Edward will be meeting with the Defense Minister shortly. I will pass along any message you may have."
"Never mind," he muttered, turning back to Mugsie. "I'll see what I can do with this and deal with that later."
"Best of luck, old chap," chuckled Lennox as Smythe disappeared down a side corridor.
"Don't be too smug, Chaz," Mugsize scolded. "I need you to sit down with Ethan to trace the Hungarian's movements for the past couple of days."
Lennox winced and nodded glumly. At Jane's questioning glance, Mugsie said, "Ethan's the young man who will be doing naked royal laps soon. He may make lousy wagers, but he really is quite good at what he does."
"He's a right prat," grumbled Lennox.
Mugsie blew kisses at the retreating agents then turned to face the amused women watching her. "Come ladies, not much to be done for you both at this point. I'll ring you up when we've found something." She led them back towards the building's entrance. "Take her round jolly old London, Isles. I'm sure you'll find things of interest to you both."
Maura smiled. "I believe I can think of one or two things. Dinner tonight?"
"That would be lovely, though it may need to be on the late side. Savoy at eight thirty?" Mugsie smirked. "It's show night."
Maura looked at Jane speculatively. "We'll need to do some shopping, but I think that's a delightful idea."
Jane groaned. "Really, Maura? Isn't it bad enough you drag me shopping in Boston?"
The doctor pressed a kiss against the grumbling detective's jaw. "Oh, trust me, Jane. You'll find it's for a very worthy cause."
"Well, well, Detective," purred Mugsie as she took in Jane's appearance.
Jane blushed and plucked at her jacket in embarrassment. "Maura insisted."
Maura slid her hand down Jane's lapels with pride. "And I was correct in doing so. I knew the Burburry tuxedo would suit you marvelously."
"Very Garbot," Mugsie added. "You'll have to stuff her into an Yves St Laurent Le Smoking ensemble next."
Jane ducked her head, but Maura noticed the hint of a pleased smile on the detective's lips. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the form fitted silk jacket and his waisted trousers accentuated her lithe figure.
"Well, Maura still looks like a runway model," Jane mumbled, glaring at several men at the bar surreptitiously eyeing her date, resplendent in a deep purple gown with one side slit tantalizingly up a silky thigh, breasts lovingly accentuated by smooth satin.
Mugsie herself was daringly attired in a red leather bustier and matching short waisted jacket. Tight black leather pants tucked into polished knee high boots completed the outfit and Jane couldn't help but think they were horrendously over dressed, even for a fancy bar.
"I take it this place is pretty different from the Dirty Robber," she said as a tuxedoed maitre'd approached the trio.
"You have no idea," Maura murmured. "But I suspect you'll enjoy yourself anyway."
Mugsie sank into a plush seat with a contented sigh. "So, what were you up to all day?"
"Shopping," groused Jane automatically, then flinched as Maura poked her under the table. "Okay, and we spent a little time at the Tower of London."
"We spent hours," Maura corrected. "I practically had to drag you out of there." She looked ruefully at Mugsie. "She became very popular with the Beefeaters on duty due to her enthusiasm over the torture devices and speculation on how much it would improve interrogations."
"Hey, all I'd have to do is just show that stuff to some of the idiots I have to talk to," Jane retorted. "They'd open right up! Anyway, any luck with—" she broke off as Mugsie waved her hand.
"No work talk tonight, Detective," she declared. "This is special night."
A waitress arrived to take their cocktail orders, and Maura convinced Jane to forgo her usual beer. Dinner followed soon after, and as Jane started to think about the dessert possibilities a nearby curtain slid open, revealing a small stage.
Maura and Mugsie both turned to see Jane's reaction as a buxom woman wearing a black lace corset, fishnet stockings, and not much else appeared and smiled at the audience, microphone in hand. Behind her a second curtain opened, revealing two more women swirling casually upside down around bright brass poles.
The emcee raised one hand theatrically. "Welcome, my dears, to the Savoy Cabaret!" She caught sight of the astonished detective and ran a pink tongue over her lips before blowing her a kiss.
Jane's jaw dropped.
Maura sank down against the bed, her eyes dark with arousal as she stared at Jane. The detective locked the door and stalked across the room, sliding her jacket off her shoulders as she went. Her crisp shirt soon followed. Maura stood up and slid her hands across the front of Jane's pants, sliding the zipper down with deliberation before she shoved them down.
"I need these off."
"My, my, Doctor Isles," Jane murmured. "Are we eager?"
"Wth the amount of torture you subjected me to during the show, you're lucky I didn't take you then and there." Mission accomplished Maura shoved Jane down onto the mattress and slid her own zipper down, encouraging her dress to fall with a slight shimmy that caused her breasts to sway and Jane's breath to catch in her throat.
"You tried hard in the car," Jane pointed out, her eyes glazing at the glorious skin getting exposed before her. Underneath her dress Maura was bare, a fact Jane had discovered while taking advantage of the slit in Maura's dress and the tablecloth draped across their table. As her fingers had stilled in surprise at the lack of any barrier, Maura had leaned over and whispered, "Panty lines."
Moonlight streamed through the window, casting an ethereal glow across the doctor as she lowered herself onto Jane. Jane groaned at the electric feel of skin on skin and she leaned up and captured Maura in a fierce kiss, sliding her hands up the smooth back to wrap her fingers in blonde curls.
Maura pressed herself hard onto the firm body beneath her, then gasped as Jane's thigh rose up between her legs putting a delicious pressure against her wet heat. "You feel so good," she whispered.
With a grunt Jane flipped them over and buried her face in Maura's neck. Gone was any thought of criminal masterminds, or moles, or annoying Hungarians.
Jane's focus was absolute.
"Let me hear you, Maur'" she said hoarsely.
Maura bit her lip, then choked out, "I love to feel you against me."
Jane slid down her body and captured a rosy nipple in her teeth.
"You make me feel — oh God — so sexy." Maura whimpered as Jane's hand palmed her breast in matching time to the flickering of her tongue.
"I need —" Maura broke off as Jane nipped her way across her abdomen and scarred hands caressing pale hips, her lips brushing across the mons pubis.
"Jane — please," Maura pleaded, her voice catching. "Let me — feel you."
The brunette sank lower, nuzzling through coarse curls and breathing in the heady smells of Maura's arousal. She flicked out her tongue, exploring. The groan that rattled Maura's throat caused Jane to smirk then she dove, relishing every gasp and plea that the doctor uttered, Jane's name a prayer on her lips.
As Maura's hips started to rock in earnest against her, Jane slid one finger into scorching heat, then two, curling them against throbbing inner walls as she pumped, faster and faster.
"Oh God, oh God, oh fuck — JANE!" Maura's scream ripped from her as her body arched in ecstasy. As her muscles relaxed she tugged feebly at Jane's arm and the detective slithered up her body and rolled her over to rest snuggly against her. Maura was breathing hard, but her smile was sultry and sated.
"Love you, Maur," Jane said softly into her hair before she pressed a kiss against a sweaty temple. ""I love that I made you swear even more. The prim and proper Doctor Isles can swear like a pirate when properly inspired."
Maura wriggled closer, her arm wrapped tightly around Jane's torso. "Special occasion, Detective Rizzoli, and when I catch my breath, I'll be sure to make you swear in foreign languages."