Patos island proved to be more beautiful than the pictures showed, and the view from the top of the lighthouse was fantastic. At one point, Julian took her for an aerial tour. His home was no less remarkable, and true to his word, Joanne did indeed have her own suite of rooms.
The weather remained mild as they entered the winter months. Reports from his home in Canberra stated the temps had climbed into the mid 100's. She continued visiting Julian on the weekends and days off, the two growing closer over time.
It was around her third visit that he began teaching her Greek, and by the end of that month, she was passably decent. Immersed in it, he spoke only in his mothers' native tongue. Back at the apartment, Jo binge watched Greek movies and sitcoms with subtitles, learning every nuance of the it, as well as studying from the various books Julian gave her.
"How did your dad meet her, an Englishman and a Greek?" she asked one day as they walked along the pebbly shore.
"My father, as are all of the Holmes, British civil servants. His particular position was acting advisor to the then Prime Minister and others in that circle. It was on a trip to Cyprus to sort out the tensions between Greece and Turkey that he met her. At the time, she worked as an aide to the Greek Prime Minister Karamanlis. It was love at first sight apparently; he courted her off and on for the better part of two years before they finally married. I was born a few years later. I have an older half sister, Risa, who was from my mother's arranged marriage seven years prior. It was a common practice in Greece at that time. Needless to say, it didn't work out. My sister and her family still reside in Kos, and no longer speak English. Half of the reason I want you to learn Greek is so that when we visit, you will be able to understand and converse with them."
"We're going to Kos?! When? I'd love to meet them!" It had been over twenty years since Jo had been to Europe. She'd wanted to go back, but until now, there had been no opportunity. She briefly wondered what the other half of his reason for teaching her the language was.
"Let's plan for late summer, shall we? From what my sources tell me , I may need to be in Canberra before the end of winter here. Things are happening within the Intelligence community that-" Julian stopped short, afraid he had said too much.
"What things?" Joanne prodded.
"Things that do not concern you, Koritsi Mou. It's for your own protection. The less you know, the better."
Continuing on, Julian pointed out various flowers, plants and water birds along the shoreline before comparing them to those in Australia.
"There's a webcam with Galah's and other colorful birds there," Jo said. "I've only ever seen them in captivity here in the States. It's hard to believe they run around wild like that. Would love to tame a few. Hey, maybe I can come visit you sometime!"
"After matters are sorted with my work, yes, I'd love to show you around," he gasped, nearly slipping on a mossy stone. "There are a few calls I need to make; best be heading in."
"Oh no! I don't want you injuring that ankle again. Clouds are coming in, anyway." Joanne slid her arm through his as they made their way over the increasingly wet stones.
By the time they reached the house, it was starting to drizzle. Julian grabbed his phone as he went to sit in his chair and was dialing a number before he'd even sat down. Gathering together the markers, pens and papers needed for the Synogram, she joined him in the sitting room.
While he talked, she thought up phrases and things to add to the picture, calculating the spaces needed, scrapping the longer words for the next row, or if the picture allowed, the next column. As she worked, Julian's voice became tense. She realized he was talking to his British cousin in London, Mycroft Holmes. When the conversation turned to more private matters of state and secrecy, Julian got up and went into his study, barely acknowledging her. Joanne went up to her room, and put her ear to the air vent in the floor. It was directly situated over his desk in the study where she could hear everything. She was careful to walk about normally. She knew if she tried to tiptoe and be quiet, Julian would pick up on it. Best to act normal. As she listened, she tried to formulate a reason for coming back up here. Perhaps to grab the Sharpie she'd forgotten? Yes, that would do. Feeling guilty, her curiosity got the better of her, as it always did.
Julian was talking in a low voice - was he on to her already? Using an empty glass on her nightstand as a kind of stethoscope, she strained to listen, catching only words and snatches of conversation: .."data breach... MI5... compromised... handpicked agents only... change the codes... GCHQ... donut.. Crypto department... narrow it down.." and finally, "I'll contact the NSA... work with Sherlock... undercover job.."
The call about to end, Joanne took the marker and a few other things to bring back downstairs. She was sitting at the table for nearly half an hour before he returned from the study. She needn't have worried she'd been found out; He was withdrawn and deep in thought, as though calculating and planning something. He must have called someone at the NSA after getting off the phone with Mycroft.
"I may have to curtail my visit here, Koritsi Mou." Noting her expression of dismay, he smiled tightly. "Not just yet, though. There are some issues my cousin and I are working out. For the moment, I will remain here for the next few weeks. Sometimes my work is better accomplished when not in the thick of things."
"What things? I know you can't tell me, but maybe a hint?" She knew her persuasive cajoling wouldn't work this time. It was serious.
Julian looked at her steadily, choosing his words with care: "There may be a breach in the upper levels of the British Intelligence. Even that is too much for you to know, and I must reiterate how critical it is that you say nothing of this, to anyone." His dark eyes blazed.
"You know I won't. ξέρετε ότι μπορείτε να με εμπιστευτείτε," she said, looking up at him earnestly. "You can trust me with your life."
"I know Agape Mou, I know," he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. A pang of guilt washed over her as she wished she hadn't listened at the air vent. How could she blithely ask him to trust her after what she had just done? Why did she have to be so damn curious about everything? Joanne consoled herself that at least it had not been with malevolent intention. Still, it was wrong and a horrible way to repay this kind man, and a good friend, no less.
They conversed in Greek over the next few minutes, before asking her what she was working on.
"Meh, just some stuff. Mainly nonsensical things for practice." Holding out the partially finished picture, he took it and studied it.
"Do you have the directional overlay?" he asked.
Digging through a pile of papers, she handed it to him as he laid it over the top of the image. She'd chosen a Beta Splendens fish, in honor of his nickname for her.
Having memorized the coded colored alphabet as well as the colored numbers 0-9, he proceeded to read the code beginning at the top of the fin, moving back toward the tail:
HERE
ARE THE
CODES
HOPE
THEY
HELP
His eyebrows raised inquisitively at the phrase on the bottom fin. "I LOVE YOU?"
"Well, couldn't think of anything else," Joanne shrugged.
Julian continued across the top of the fish's back:
HELLO
Moving down the tail top to bottom and using the corresponding arrows, it read:
LET
ME
KNOW
WHEN U
RTN
"By RTN I assume you mean 'return'?"
"Yep. Since space is limited for lengthy sentences and long words, abbreviation is allowed. What do you think?" she asked.
"It works, yes, as long as the said abbreviation is well known, such as this one."
Scrolling further down the tail, he read:
SEND
HELP
and beneath that:
LOOK 4
"What do these double black lines mean?" he asked, stopping at the '4'. "I see the letters P.A.P...Ah!" he exclaimed. "Paper clip. You used those lines to separate the same colored letters, didn't you? P is a double red, therefore two red colored spaces, while E is the first red letter and has only one- R1. Clever girl."
"I didn't think you'd catch on so fast about the lines. I should have known!" Jo frowned, looking more than a little deflated. She thought it would have been at least mildly difficult..
"I am quite impressed, believe me. And you created this system when you were five?"
"The color code was made around that time. The picture part came a couple years later in second grade. I told you about that."
"Yes, the teacher who confiscated your doll. I would have loved to know what was in that 'nasty message', as you so kindly put it."
"No idea. It was bad enough I didn't want to be caught with it, though."
Julian shook his head, amused. "Quite clever, indeed." Continuing counterclockwise, he finished the rest, reading left to right, bottom to top:
CHK 4 BOMBS
His eyes widened, but said nothing.
MEET ME BEHIND
GREENHOUSE
DINNER AT 5
He held the papers in his lap, a contemplative look in his eyes. "Mind if I keep these?" he asked.
"Not at all. Actually, there is another one I plan to do, but in a real spy kind of way. I was going to add in some extra color on different parts, but they won't mean anything. You know, to fake the enemy out, and only the people reading it would know its nothing, because they don't have the overlay. There wouldn't be any arrows over those parts of the picture!" she laughed, thinking it would be too long a process to actually use in the field. What agent would have time to do this, or even have markers with them? She said as much to Julian.
His reaction surprised her, though. Instead of laughing, he turned to her and leaned forward, suddenly serious again. "How many people know of this? The codes, the pictures?"
"No one. Like I said, people thought I was weird when I just told them how letters and numbers each had their own colors. I may have shown the color scheme to my ma once, but she wasn't paying attention; she was more interested in the game show that was on." Joanne sighed. "No one was ever interested, not even my parents."
"Well, I'm interested. As I stated earlier, this may well be needed someday. Whether the picture or the plain written code, I really do not know yet. Please Joanne, do not show these to anyone else." He folded up the papers and tucked them inside his coat pocket.
"You still have the color codes from earlier?" she asked.
"In my briefcase, yes."
Conversing the rest of the night in Greek, Julian made sure they spoke it as often as possible. Joanne knew this was to prepare her for the future meeting of his mother's family, yet she sensed another urgency behind it. She found out why a few days later.
They were sitting together on the couch one evening, looking at old family photographs. He'd had one of his trusted servants at his home in Canberra send over a few scrapbooks and photo albums by overnight mail. Joanne wondered why he'd gone to all the trouble.
"No trouble at all. You wanted to know more about me and my family, well, this is my way of showing you. Mind you, there weren't many Holmes' family gatherings after the fire at Musgrave. Still, most of these are before that time, when things were, as much as you can call the life of a Holmes, 'normal'."
The first album consisted mainly of young Julian, his older sister Risa and their parents. Most of the time it was at their home just outside of London, with various trips into the countryside on holidays. In others, the family were visiting his mothers' home island at Kos. As a youth, he looked quite happy and carefree, though the father more than resembled the Julian of today: Stern, no nonsense, and reserved - the toll of working for the Security Services, apparently. Risa resembled her half brother around the eyes. The two appeared to be quite close, and were so to this day. "She was quite a little tease, my sister," Julian reminisced, with a faint smile. "She still is. Do you know what she sent me for Father's day? A little globe with Australia inside. "Father of the Australian Government and people" she had written on the card. Her idea of humor," he smiled.
The next album was slimmer, consisting of visits to the his father's side of the family. This was mainly his brother Siger and wife Violet and their children: Mycroft, Sherlock and Eurus. Strangely, Eurus wasn't in many of them. The few that she did appear in seemed almost accidental, as though on the periphery of the scenes. There was a loneliness about her.
Sherlock appeared the most normal of the lot, with his thick curly hair and paper pirate hat. His friend Victor accompanied him in most of the photos, both of them brandishing wooden swords. Euros had in her hand a toy airplane as she played alone, a wistful look in her eyes in one photograph as she watched Sherlock and his friend role playing in the distance. Mycroft, on the other hand, looked more at peace being alone, with a thick, heavy volume of some textbook resting on his lap. Someone had caught him under a tree, presumably on their land at Musgrave Hall, quietly reading. Somewhat chunky and with almost flaming dark red hair and freckles, there was a deep intelligence in his eyes as he glanced up at the cameraman. Joanne wondered what he looked like now. Next to it was another photo, presumably near a lake or on a boat, taken a few years earlier when he was around twelve before he had gained the extra weight. If possible, his hair seemed an even more brighter shade of red. The freckles were more evident here, yet this only made him look more sweet and endearing.
"Ah, that's my cousin Mycroft. It was he to whom I was speaking with the other day." Glancing at a picture of a grinning Sherlock, he continued, a sadness in his voice. "His brother is the reason Mycroft rose through the ranks of the British Intelligence. It was the only way he could keep a proper eye on Sherlock and intervene when there was trouble. The Holmes family have, as I mentioned earlier, always served the Crown in one form or other, usually in the Security and Intelligence areas. My cousin has taken that position to a whole new level, going further than either I or our Uncle Rudy, or anyone else in our family that I can recall."
He paused, seemingly nostalgic for simpler days. "The Holmes have always been specialists in their respective fields. Uncle Rudy worked at the top of British Security, but his talent lay in the cryptology and cipher department at MI5. I on the other hand, worked for the British SIS, or MI6; they are the foreign section of the Secret Service Bureau, and gather intelligence overseas. I put to work that same skill in the Australian SIS, or ASIS, the British counterpart. Mycroft, though.." Julian trailed off, again lost in sad memories.
Joanne flipped through the rest of the album, fascinated. They looked so normal, and nothing like the way Julian described them as they currently were. She couldn't imagine that someone with that shade of bright red of hair and so many freckles could be the head of British Intelligence. Despite his extra weight, there was a certain ungainliness to Mycroft that came through even in pictures. She also noticed their parents were more affectionate with Sherlock. When he wasn't with Victor, he was always embraced by the mother or father. When not in direct physical contact, they beamed adoringly down on him, with not one photo of them looking at Mycroft in that manner, much less hugging him. It was painfully obvious that Sherlock was the darling of that family. Eurus, from what she could tell, distanced herself intentionally, much as Joanne did as a child, wanting nothing to do with affection.
In one photo, Mycroft was standing near Siger and looking at both he and Violet, as though silently beseeching them to be acknowledged, noticed and loved. Yet both the parents were focused on Sherlock playing in a sandbox, as Eurus held her toy plane above her head in the background. The look on Mycroft's face, part longing, part resignation that he knew he would never share in their love the way Sherlock did broke her heart.
"Poor Mycroft. It must have been hard being the oldest child. His parent's didn't look at him even once, at least in the pics here. So sad.." Jo sighed.
"Ah, noticed that, did you? Yes, Sherlock is their parent's favorite, though why, I do not know. Ever since that age, and even before, everything Mycroft has done has been for his brother, yet my aunt and uncle seem to have blinders on when it comes to Sherlock. He's not bad. Quite the opposite; but after the incident involving Eurus, he turned heavily into drugs, getting into more than a spot of bother. Each time, Uncle Rudy had to pull strings to bail him out of whatever trouble he was currently in. Mycroft took over that role as he rose higher in the government, going beyond the highest position any Holmes had ever held. To be honest, it's not really clear exactly what he does at this point. As Sherlock is fond of saying, he is the British government. His field of expertise seems to be omniscience. All of the Security Services from MI5 to MI6 and beyond answer to him, or at least, rely on his decisions. He is in fact, head of the JIC."
Julian smiled, looking quite proud of his cousin, if not a little fearful. And here Joanne had thought it was he who was the head of the family in these matters!
"What's JIC? Sorry, not familiar with any of this James Bond stuff," she said, laughing.
" MI5, MI6 and GCHQ come under the direction of the Joint Intelligence Committee. The JIC sets the priorities and co-ordinates the work of the separate intelligence services. It comprises senior officials drawn from the Foreign Office, Ministry of Defense, Home Office, Department of Trade and Industry, Treasury and Cabinet Office, as well as the heads of the MI5, MI6 and GCHQ. A sort of umbrella of everything, if you will."
"Wow. That's a lot of influence for sure! Your cousin sounds like a busy man."
"That he is, and also very lonely. Mycroft's taught both himself and Sherlock to stay away from relationships of any kind. After the death of Victor Trevor, Sherlock was of course, traumatized. As Mycroft helped him reconstruct and write out those memories, he taught his younger brother that 'caring is not an advantage', a saying he repeats like a mantra to both himself and Sherlock.
Julian went on to explain about John Watson, who acted as a kind of extension of Mycroft, keeping an eye on Sherlock, as well as the other various people in his life. "It was John who brought him out of his shell, little by little. He will never be 'normal' by societies standards, but thanks to John, Mrs. Hudson, Molly and D.I. Lestrade, he has, like you, a very small, but close circle of friends. They've been good for him. Mycroft on the other hand.." Julian's expression turned wistful, melancholy.
"To this day, as far as I know, Mycroft has no friends or confidants, save for his brother. I've tried to encourage him to see people socially, but the only places he frequents are Whitehall and his Diogenes club, where incidentally, no talking whatsoever is allowed, except in the Strangers' Room."
"Sounds like a place I'd love to go. Nice and quiet. What happens if you say something?"
"I believe one is expelled if one speaks outside of said Strangers' Room three times."
"Harsh! Interesting name, Strangers' Room. I wouldn't want to strike up a conversation with someone I don't know if I didn't have to. The rest seems great, though," she said, studying the family photos. Eurus seemed to appear as a specter in each one, avoided by her family. Considering what happened later, or possibly because of this estrangement, she couldn't blame them. A part of her felt for Eurus, too. She knew well what it was like to be in the midst of a family gathering, yet be invisible. Joanne couldn't stop herself from shaking her head, and hoped she'd never have to meet that happy side of Julian's' family. It was the trip to Kos she was looking forward to.
Seeming to read her mind, Julian sat back in his chair and took a puff from his favorite pipe. "I think you and Mycroft would get along famously - I may indeed take you first to England before heading over to Kos." His eyes narrowed, looking at her speculatively.
He's plotting again, she thought. "Nah, that's ok. I'd rather not upset the status quo. I'm sure they're happy the way they are," she said nervously.
"They are not happy; though Sherlock may be more so than his brother thanks to his friends. He appreciates them, and has himself, in his own way, also encouraged Mycroft to find someone." Julian paused, remembering something. "It was he in fact, if I recall, who coined the term 'goldfish'. To Mycroft's mind, everyone, even Sherlock, is slow. Yet, he's never met a Beta Splendens before.." He trailed off again, lost in thought. "Yes, yes," he said, nodding with certainty, "You must meet Mycroft. I will not take no for an answer!"
With that, he dampened down the pipe and set it aside. There was no use arguing with him.
"Just promise me we don't have to meet his parents. Not sure I like the way they treated him, much less Eurus. They seemed downright neglectful! Anyway, it would be too much interaction for me for one trip. Too much stimulation what with my, um.. problem. You know.." Joanne hated talking about it, and hoped he would understand. Still, she also knew she couldn't be selfish if he wanted to visit with his aunt and uncle, and told him so.
The hands were steepled under Julian's chin again, signaling deep thought as he gazed into the fire, various scenarios running through his mind. Presently he stirred, a decisive look on his features. "Again, Koritsi Mou, it all depends on this business my cousin and I are currently dealing with at work. When this is over, our first stop will be London to visit the brothers. Yes, I believe you will be a good influence for Sherlock as well, and yes, I would like to visit their parents, but separately. There is a flat next door to his brother that Mycroft keeps open for various security personnel to watch over Sherlock on his bad days, or weeks, in his case.." He shook his head, getting excited now. "Yes, yes. You will stay there whilst I am down in Surrey visiting Siger and Violet. I will make sure that Mycroft entertains you during your stay there. And you must visit his brother, too. Get to know them both."
"By entertain, you mean..?" She disliked blind dates, and being set up by a third party even more.
Julian straightened at once, looking affronted. "Not what I assume you are thinking, Joanne. Nothing of the sort. A Holmes is, if nothing else, a gentleman, and Mycroft is certainly that. I mean for him to take you out to dinner and show you the city for the few days I am away. Rest assured, there are no shortage of things to do in London."
"How long would you be in Surrey?"
"As long as it takes for you to get to know my cousins."
"Julian! Seriously, how long?" She was almost panicking now. A city was the last place she wanted to go. The noise, smells, and crowds.. No. No way.
He relented a little at the stricken look on Joanne's face, but only a little. "Our visit need not only take place in London, Splendens. Remember, Mycroft owns several country estates, and is co owner of many more with the National Trust. Both you and Sherlock could stay with Mycroft at Brockhurst, his main country estate south of London, not far from a village called East Grinstead. The place is nowhere near the city, and is in fact, quite rural, which is why Mycroft favors it so. Assuming he needs to stay close to work, Mycroft does have a little place in London outside the city proper, called Ravenwood. That is his main residence when not staying at his others inside the city. For his security, he rotates randomly between them. Only those closest to him such as his brother and assistant ever know where he is staying at any given time."
"Do all his homes have names?" she asked. Joanne had read many historic romance novels as a teenager, and each time, the aristocracy in them always seemed to live on similarly titled estates. To her, Mycroft and his world seemed to be right out of the pages of those books.
Julian laughed, much amused. "Oh yes, at least the ones in the country do. It's quite English, I assure you. Mycroft is British to the bone and traditional to the core. He's what one would call 'Old School', and dare I say, old fashioned. Cold and unflappable his façade may be, but Mycroft is a good man, Joanne. You two will get along splendidly, I think. "Also," he added, a knowing look in his eyes, "his voice is soft, quiet and level at all times, unlike mine which can be loud and quite gravelly to your ears, I am sure."
She laughed. "Trying to sweeten the pot, eh, Julian?" Turning serious once more, she said, "But seriously, a trip to the English countryside sounds wonderful, but I don't want to impose on him either-" Here she was cut off by Julian, who shook his head furiously.
"As head of the Holmes family, my cousins will do as they are told," he said curtly. "What with everything going on, they will need a break outside of work when this nasty business is over and done with, and I mean to make sure they get it!" he added emphatically.
"Don't force them though, Julian. That could make an unpleasant situation for everyone."
"You underestimate my powers of persuasion, Koritsi Mou. Once the idea has been discussed in detail, it will be as though they themselves came up with the idea. Also, Mycroft will be secretly thrilled to have a bit of bonding time with his brother. Sherlock is everything to him."
"I wonder if Sherlock would agree. From how you described him, he won't want to be coerced, especially if he's anything like me."
"Do you trust me, Joanne?" His dark eyes searched hers, apprehensive of finding any hint of doubt there.
She returned his gaze, studying him. She did trust this man, and instinct told her she could trust him with this. He knew his cousins, after all, and what made them tick. Julian knew her as well, and the problems that came with the Synesthesia. She considered her own feelings for Julian. Perhaps it was only a crush, and nothing more. Did she love him? Yes, she admitted. Could she love him in a romantic way? Did he have any interest in her in that regard? Joanne wasn't sure. There was a definite attraction on both sides, that was a fact. Yet for some reason, he would sacrifice his own happiness for his cousin Mycroft. Another Holmes trait, she realized. The men gave up their own happiness in exchange for those they loved. Just as Mycroft had done so for his brother, Julian was doing the same for Mycroft. It would be selfish on her part to convince him otherwise.
Keeping her thoughts to herself, she nodded in the affirmative. "Yes. I trust you. Just don't be obvious about it, when introducing me to Mycroft. I don't want him thinking this is some arranged date or something."
Julian grinned. "But, it is an arranged date!" He was teasing her again.
"Julian!"
His hands went over his heart, an exaggerated expression of hurt on his face. "You wound me, Koritsi Mou.."
"Heh. Are all the Holmes as dramatic as you?"
The fine dark brows raised in surprise. "Why yes, they are in fact!"
Despite herself, Joanne began to look forward to meeting them. At least the Holmes family would be a distraction from the personal torture of a large city.
Unfortunately, the family reunion would have to wait. Things were escalating in the intelligence community, and more evidence was appearing that there was indeed an informant leak. At this point, neither Holmes knew if it was an inside job or a foreign entity.
Cutting short his winter stay on Patos, he left for London to confer with Mycroft, promising Joanne he would keep in touch as often as possible. As much as he tried, the situation commanded all of his attention; the texts and emails she received from him were few. Eventually, they stopped altogether.
Joanne wasn't sure what to make of it. Did she really expect him to keep in contact with someone like her? They had grown so close. She was torn, knowing also the seriousness of his job and the current crisis they were facing, both in Britain and Australia. It was obvious the Holmes' and their respective governments were trying to keep a tight lid on things. Still, bits of it caught her attention that were buried under numerous non important articles: High level information regarding top secret technology stolen here, an official or some such person detained for having information they shouldn't, and other odd things connected to the Holmes' world of intrigue. She missed Julian terribly, but life went on none the less, in the same monotonous way it had before she'd met him.
He hadn't forgotten her, though. During the next few months, she received a total of three synograms in the mail, the first preceded a day or so earlier with the directional overlay. They arrived via the address of the shy young Sam Compton. It was safer this way. She noted Julian had indeed taken her seriously regarding her earlier comment: randomly colored parts of the picture dotted the areas outside of the overlay arrows. There was no way for an outsider to know which part of the color scheme was the code.
The first two consisted of profuse apologies for not contacting her sooner, as well as a brief description regarding the goings on at work. He hoped she was still immersed in the Greek, and was keeping up on it. She looked up from the coded picture with a pang of guilt. It hurt too much to even think in that language. Even listening to her favorite songs brought tears to her eyes.
Now that she knew it really was only his work and the secrecy that went with it that prevented him from writing, she would again resume her studies in it. Included with the letter was the contact info of a trusted acquaintance on a nearby island. "Should you like to stay at Patos for an extended weekend getaway," he'd written. The acquaintance had been told about her and would be there when needed to take her to the island in their boat if she asked. The yacht was kept moored at the island, but the hired help had dispersed to other venues, now that it's owner had gone. Sam had of course gone back home with Julian. A key to the back door was under the middle flower pot in front of the garden shed.
Joanne decided not to go; it wasn't the same without Julian there, and besides, there were no geese, at least none that knew her as they did at the park. They were especially comforting while Julian was away.
Five months had passed when out of the blue, her phone rang. The loud buzzing startled the dozing gosling in her lap. With a flap of little wing nubs and an indignant squawk, he joined his siblings at the edge of the water. Although it was her day off, Joanne knew she could still be called into work. Groaning, she reached into her bag and pulled out the phone. Her eyes widened in shock and surprise. Julian.
All hell had broke loose back at London's GCHQ, its effect rippling over to the Australian SIS in Canberra. Events had reached a fevered pitch, and it was time for decisive action to be taken.
"I cannot tell you anything else over the phone, nor am I in a position to leave the capital. At the moment I am using a burner phone as added protection. I need you to be a brave girl and do something for me. Do you trust me?" Using Greek, he spoke in a rapid staccato fashion, as though he couldn't get the words out fast enough.
Replying in the same tongue, she answered, "Yes, I trust you. What do you need?"
"There is no time for a lengthy explanation, so I will keep it brief. I need you to go to London for me and meet my cousin at a hotel there. It will be an overnight stay only, I'm afraid. He is to meet you that evening, and in the morning, you are to be on the plane back home."
"What-"
"Please Splendens, no questions. All will be answered once you are on the plane. I've included several notes with a few gifts that will be waiting for you onboard. I would have sent my assistant, but it is all hands on deck, unfortunately. Can you do this for me?" Joanne could hear the exhaustion in his voice, as well as the stress and anxiety should she say no.
"Today's Friday, and I have to be back at work Monday..." she paused, remembering something else. "Oh Crap! I need a fish sitter! I suppose I can get my neighbor to feed them. She knew Barry and his elderly father never left town. It was work that she was worried about. What if she didn't make it back in time? How long was the flight to and from London? It had been so long since she'd been to Europe.
"A fish sitter can be arranged, if needed. As for work, I will personally call Dr. Packman should there be a delay. If you can leave first thing tomorrow morning, my private plane will be standing by at the Paine Field Airport. An assigned agent who will accompany you on the flight and to the hotel in London will be at your door to take you there. Flight time is normally nine hours from Washington to London, though I daresay the little Gulfstream will get you there in seven. With the time difference working in your favor, you would be back no later than Sunday afternoon. Joanne - can you do this for me?" Voices were heard in the background; Julian muffled the receiver to bark out an order. Returning his attention to her, he repeated the question.
"Yes, yes, I can go," she heard herself saying, not realizing what she was getting into. There was only the need to please him, and to hear any trace of a smile in his voice. There was none forthcoming as the situation was dire. Still, it wasn't like she had anything planned for the weekend. She never did.
"Are you absolutely sure, Joanne? Once you are airborne, there is no turning back. I must warn you, considering the state of things, you could be in danger. I've made sure my best security agent is going with you for protection. The hotel will also be protected and under surveillance. Do you understand what I am asking?" More voices in the background, and Julian giving instructions to someone.
"Yes, I do. I'm fine with it, really. It will be a sort of adventure, I think!" Joanne tried to sound upbeat, but it was lost on Julian.
"This is quite serious, Joanne. You must follow the instructions you will find on the plane to the letter. It is not an adventure, but a dangerous mission, and you must tell no one of it, not even your parents, I'm afraid. All communications are compromised. I must go now. Consider everything taken care of. There must be no calls between us during your stay in London, for your own safety." He paused. "Koritsi Mou.. I.."
It was obvious Julian had never been in this situation before. Like his cousins, he preferred to remain detached emotionally from anyone. This friendship with Joanne was a first for him, and he was at a loss for words.
"Thank you, Joanne," he finished. "This means more to me than you can possibly know."
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Joanne's head was spinning. For the second time in her life, she would be involved in a secret operation. The first time was for the CIA involving the paperwork she'd done on the unknown officials. This was.. what? The Australian or the British Secret Service? Joanne figured it didn't matter much, as they both worked for the Commonwealth.
Packing only the clothes she would need for a one night stay, Joanne decided to throw in one more days worth. After all, the ride there and back would constitute a day all on its own. The fish were set. Thank God for neighbors! There were only two in the entire complex that she knew: Barry, and another elderly lady who watched the fish during lengthy visits her parents in California. Her parents! Tomorrow was sci-fi night with dad. Every Saturday they got on Skype to watch old science fiction shows. Julian had told her not to tell even them. She debated doing so, then thought better of it. What if her phone was tapped? Even Julian had resorted to a burner phone, although that was no guarantee a foreign entity wasn't listening in. What could she tell dad? As the only child, they worried constantly, especially when she was at the park with the birds. Joanne hated lying to them, but there was no other option.
Typing out a quick email to her dad, she wrote that Barry and his father were coming over at that time. Normally in the past, it was usually on a Friday, and not very often, at that. She disliked visitors, but Barry was always so kind and it was her way of repaying him for the weekly trips to the food bank. It wasn't often they got out, and it was the least she could do.
Joanne barely slept that night. Her thoughts whirled as she lay in the dark. By this time tomorrow, she would have met Mycroft, whom Julian thought was a good match for her. Images of the chubby blue eyed, freckled, flame haired boy flashed through her mind. More powerful than even Julian. Head of all the British Security and Intelligence Services. She couldn't picture it. As hard as she tried, Joanne couldn't get past that red hair. It was almost impossible to take anyone with that color of hair seriously. She wondered if he was still chubby and had the cute little freckles.
She was up hours before the alarm went off, and set about tidying the place for Barry, and especially the agent, should he want to come in. Afterwards, she spent the time scouring the internet for any espionage type news. There was nothing except the earlier articles she had read. The Holmes were good, she gave them that. Joanne wondered if it was mainly Mycroft's doing, considering the immense influence he seemed to wield. Red hair or not, the man was already intimidating. It's only one night, she thought. Then it's back to the daily routine. Nothing to worry about.
Or so she thought.
Out of caution and fear of being monitored, Julian hadn't told her when the agent was coming to get her. Not that it mattered; She had been ready all night, and was dozing off in the chair when there was a soft knock at the door. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was seven in the morning. It had been light for a few hours now. Hurrying to the door and nearly tripping on the throw rug, she opened the door to find a classic Men in Black looking guy. This was no movie, however, but the real thing.
He was a tall blond man in his thirties with cold, blue green eyes. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the pocket of an expensive looking suit ensemble, with a nearly invisible ear piece wire that disappeared under the outer collar. Joanne could see the slight bulge of a firearm at his side under the jacket. Although assigned for her protection, there was a threatening air about him, though not directed at her. This was someone you didn't want to cross - then again, neither were the Holmes men they worked for. The man didn't enter, but she could tell he was silently assessing her and what he could see of the apartment behind her. Luckily, it was a T shaped entrance hall; the only thing he could see was the wall behind her, adorned only with a vintage Chinese scroll ink painting of three different colored Koi fish. The ends of the scroll contained heavy blue and white pattern porcelain handles. His eyes lingered on the painting before moving on to her face. Again, she had the feeling of being sized up.
"I assume you are Miss Hartwell?" he asked brusquely. The gravely voice was Australian, but there was something off about it. She thought perhaps there was a trace of British accent as well, but it was different from Julian's. Joanne shook her head, chalking it up to nerves. Remembering the light Scottish burr in Sam's voice, she realized that he too, had acquired the Australian drawl. People in Julian's world relocated so often, it was no wonder they had underlying accents from other places.
"That's me. I'm ready," she said meekly, ducking back inside to avoid that penetrating gaze and to grab her keys, backpack and overnight duffel.
"Good, let's go. May I?" It wasn't a question. Reaching down, he took the larger bag and carried it down the stairs, not bothering to introduce himself. Oh well, she thought. Considering the circumstances.. With one final quick check around the apartment and a whispered goodbye to her three goldfish, Joanne took a deep breath, locked the door, joined the security man in the shiny black Audi.
The man wasn't any more talkative as he drove them to the air field, which was just as well; Joanne wasn't in the mood to talk, and had enough on her mind. It was a short drive, merely twenty minutes north. The air strip was a small one, usually accommodating small prop planes. She wasn't expecting the larger, sleek jet that met them on the tarmac. Never having seen a Gulfstream before, she was expecting something of the size of the others parked nearby the hangars.
Parked alone near the terminal, it sat like a diamond, glittering in the early sunlight. It was beautiful, sleek and streamlined, much like everything else Julian owned. Joanne smiled. Of course. How could she expect anything less? One of the crew had even thought to put a red runner carpet at the foot of the steps. This was Julian's world. Was this what it was always like? She felt like royalty as the captain himself escorted her up the stairs and into the waiting craft. His accent was fully Australian and nothing else, as was the co pilot's and flight attendant. Brief but friendly introductions were made as the blond haired security agent Julian had sent to accompany her reappeared and took a seat near the aft section.
Captain Jeffries headed into the cockpit as the stewardess shut the door, after which she proceeded to give Joanne a quick tour of her temporary lodgings.
So, this was how the jet set traveled, she thought. The same elegant bespoke interiors were almost identical to those on the yacht. There was no doubt as to the owner, she chuckled. The gulfstream even had a bedroom. Joanne was floored. She'd never in her wildest dreams heard of such a thing. Then again, where did one expect to sleep on a jaunt across the ocean? Except for the size and shape of the plane, it was like being back on the yacht. If only Julian were here to enjoy it with her. The galley was more like a regular kitchen. Even here, the décor was elegant. Beauty and utility combined. It was nothing like the greasy galley on the Amtrak she was used to on her bi yearly visits to California.
The Gulfstream taxied down the runway as the flight attendant Nikki escorted her back to the aft section. Joanne took a seat across from the agent. The man's face was closed, his expression inscrutable as he watched her.
"Not used to traveling, I take it?" he said. Again, it was a statement. She bristled at his arrogance.
"I used to," she said. "I'm quite well traveled, actually. Just not at this caliber," she said, indicating the opulence of the craft. Not wanting to bring up her sordid past, she still wanted to make a point. "I lived in Italy for three years, and went on many tours with the local military travel service." Joanne rattled of the names of the places she had traveled to: half of Europe, Russia, Greece, India, Egypt, India, Morocco..
The man yawned and closed his eyes, leaning back into the chair. So much for impressing this one, she thought.
"What's your name, anyway? We're going to be together at least seven hours, you may as well tell me. It's not fair you already know mine," she huffed. He didn't even have to say anything. His very presence was irritating.
One blue green eye opened briefly to glance at her. "William," he said. The eye closed again.
"Well, nice to meet you, William. I think." Joanne continued watching him, hoping to get a rise out of the taciturn man who merely grunted in reply, saying nothing. This was going to be a fun trip, she thought. "Are you going to be here on the return trip, as well?" she couldn't help asking.
A sardonic smile ghosted his lips. "More than likely," was the enigmatic response.
Wonderful, she thought. Well, it would be a quick trip anyway. Suddenly remembering the hurried phone call with Julian, she waited until the plane reached its full altitude before heading back into the bedroom. Somehow she'd overlooked the pyramid of five boxes placed in the middle of the bed during the brief tour earlier. How had she missed those? Had they even been there when they first came through? Shaking her head, she mentally scolded herself that she needed to be more alert and pay attention to her surroundings. Especially on an assignment like this.
Sandwiched between them was an envelope addressed to Mycroft and two manila folders. The first was stamped the word 'Official'. The other had her name written in Julian's elegant hand. Setting Mycroft's and the official looking folder aside, Joanne opened the file with her name on it. Inside were several pages, each with a separate synogram. The pictures varied between different animals, fish and fauna. Checking inside the envelope again, she realized there was no overlay. How was she supposed to read these? All were nearly totally colored in. There was no way to tell where the messages were, where they began, or in what direction to read them. Not even bothered with the contents of the two boxes, Joanne sat on the bed cradling her head, a migraine already beginning.
How?
There was a quiet knock on the door. Expecting Nikki, Joanne looked up in surprise.
William.
His eyes traveled to the colored papers. "You will need this, I expect," he said, handing her another envelope. Without another word he left, closing the door behind him.
Inside was the overlay. She assumed it worked for all of the pages. Joanne paused. How did he know the contents of this envelope corresponded to the others? There was no way he could know as the envelope he handed to her was still sealed. Secret agents had their ways, she was sure, and it wasn't beyond the scope of imagination that he could have somehow steamed it open and resealed it. A sudden urge to rush out and confront him rose up in her chest, but soon subsided as another, stronger curiosity gripped her. What had Julian written in the letters?
Spotting a pen and note pad on a nearby table, she got to work. Setting the overlay on first the one, then the second, she realized it would indeed work for all of them. At the top left corner of each, he had numbered them in the order to be read. Sighing in relief, she began translating, adding punctuation as she went along for easier reading; it was safer not to have it in the coded messages. Beginning at the top right and reading counter clockwise, she read:
My Dear Splendens,
By now you are safely ensconced in the Gulfstream on the way to London. I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to this dangerous mission. Rest assured, the strictest measures for your protection have been taken. Although a little rough around the edges, the man I send with you will protect you with his life, if need be. I would send no one else.
Inside the manila folder you will find a copy of the Official Secrets Act. I am sorry Koritsi Mou, but in light of the information you already know and the letter you are carrying to my cousin Mycroft, it is but a formality. You are one of the most trustworthy persons I know, but it needs to be signed, I'm afraid.
Setting the first page aside, Joanne continued on to letter number two. She would look at the official folder contents later.
As I stated, there is no way for me to appropriately thank you for not only helping me, but the Commonwealth as well. What you are doing may well help to bring security back to our nations, and there are absolutely no words by which to express my gratitude. You mean the world to me, Agape Mou. That said, I would like you to accept these as a small token of my affection.
In the bottom three boxes, you will find an evening dress, shoes and other necessary accoutrements to complete the outfit for your dinner with my cousin. Dear as you are to me, Joanne, I would ask you please to not wear your normal attire when meeting him.
Pausing, she looked up, a wry smile on her face. It was true: Joanne's idea of dressing up was her best pair of jeans and a pretty blouse. She'd assumed he would show up at her hotel room, take the letter and leave. Dressing up and taking a meal with Mycroft had never even crossed her mind. She had packed only underthings, leggings, a pair of jeans, and two flannel shirts. How well Julian knew her! She only hoped the dress and shoes fit. She continued on:
It is the top two boxes that require your extra attention. Inside the larger one, you will find a jewelry ensemble I had especially made for you. Inscribed along the inside of both the bracelet and necklace pendant are the words "Trust, Friendship, Fidelity". Please show one or the other to Mycroft. He will understand that the words I chose are a description of you, Joanne. I can, I think, safely say that you are not only trustworthy and faithful, but reflect the high esteem in which I, the elder of the Holmes family, regard you, and that my cousin and his brother should also do the same. There will be no need for another painful interrogation, please be sure of that. In this way, I can at least gift you with a little of my gratitude for accepting this mission, as well as send a clear message to my cousin regarding your attributes. Clever, don't you think?
Smiling, she could almost hear his pleased chuckle in that last sentence. The third page described the contents of the smallest box at the top of the pile.
Now, pay attention, Splendens. In the topmost box, you will find a ring in the shape of the Australian Crested Cockatoo's head. It is not just a pretty trinket, I assure you. Because of this dangerous assignment, I want you to have a little extra protection. The agent I send with you is top notch, no doubt of that. But should you find yourself alone in a spot of difficulty, this ring I hope will come through for you.
Joanne stopped, and walked over to the bed. A real secret spy ring! She couldn't believe it.
The tower of boxes were tied together with three gossamer ribbons. Eagerly slipping out the topmost box from between them, she opened it and pulled out a small red case.
So extravagant and luxurious was the ring that she had to sit down, taking deep breaths. It was gorgeous. Joanne didn't even want to know how much this must have cost him. Diamonds encrusted the head except for the eyes which were made of emerald, and the beak, onyx. On one side of the birds' shoulder were feathers, also encrusted with diamonds. The other side held rounded sapphire beads, each arranged in five lines, tapering down to the band of platinum. Joanne inspected it while it was still in its box. If this was a real protection ring, she didn't want to accidently release a poison. What form it would take, she couldn't imagine. Setting the box beside the letter, she finished the coded message:
The emerald eyes act as two separate releases. Now memorize this, Joanne.. The left eye is the poison. The right is the antidote. Both are contained inside the sapphires. There are twelve of each. Should you need to defend yourself, depress the left eye whilst holding the outermost sapphire firmly against the flesh of the attacker. The poison is quite strong, and will take out even the largest man. Once the poison or antidote is released, the eye springs back to normal position and is reset to deliver another payload. It is absolutely imperative you remember which is which. Left is Sinistra aka sinister and therefore the poison. I recall your amusement regarding the use of that word in both Italian and Latin. You should have no problem remembering.
He continued on in the next picture:
The poison is that of the puffer fish, from the family Tetraodontidae. They are known to produce the highly toxic tetrodotoxin (TTX), in which only a small concentrated amount is needed to take down an enemy. It is even more lethal if injected, which is how it is deployed by the ring. Inside the outer most sapphire, that is, the 3rd down in the 3rd row, sits an almost imperceptible microscopic needle that is interconnected to the other beads containing the TTX. A separate needle sits beside it within the same bead that connects to those containing the antidote. I came across this ring model whilst browsing the Cartier catalog, and realized the structure was perfect for what I had in mind. After contacting them and going over the structural design, I obtained the TXX and antidote to be inserted carefully inside the beads. The eyes must be pressed quite firmly when used, thus preventing an accidental release.
She'd arrived at the last page:
Please accept these little tokens of affection with my everlasting gratitude and love, Agape Mou. I can never describe in words the depth of my feelings for you, so I pray that they come through a little in this and the Trinity ensemble.
Although this scenario was not how I imagined you meeting my cousin, I quite expect that you will make a favorable impression on him as you did with me. I have not forgotten about our trip to Kos; do continue studying the Greek. Risa and her family are quite eager to meet you. We will meet again soon.
Love, Julian
Tears filled her eyes. He loved her! What kind of love, she did not know. Was she only a friend to him or something more? In what way did she love Julian? One thing was certain: should he admit to romantic feelings, Joanne knew she would readily reciprocate.
Breaking off her quiet reverie, she continued opening the other boxes beginning at the bottom. Placing them all on the bed beside the other, she lifted the lid of the largest one. Inside was a beautiful dark blue dress with a matching blue and black threaded dinner jacket. These alone probably cost more than what she had in her entire wardrobe. Holding it up, Joanne wondered for the second time if it would fit. It seemed right..
Locking the door and shedding the hoodie and jeans, Joanne slid into the soft silky material. They fit! Perfectly. How did he know? Blushing, she knew he had never once seen her naked. The closest that had been was in her swimsuit at Julian's as they had splashed about in the heated swimming pool. There had also been the luxurious dips in the yacht's Jacuzzi. Self conscious about her large chest, Joanne always wore a black t-shirt over the one piece suit. The fact that he knew her measurements so precisely was more than a little unnerving.
The next box contained shoes, stockings, a belt and small hand bag. Inside the bag was a little box of perfume with the name Joy Baccarat Pure Parfum written on the front. Joanne had no doubt that it was expensive, like everything else that involved Julian Holmes. Using the stopper, she applied a tiny dab to her wrist. At once, her senses were overwhelmed in a most pleasant way by a most intoxicating scent. High notes of bright yellows intermixed with mid tones of oranges danced before her eyes. Beneath the warm colors, purples and red violet surrounded her. It was wonderful, and suited her perfectly. Most perfumes didn't go with the chemical makeup of her skin. This one did. Was this man ever wrong about anything?
Inside the last box was a large jewelry case containing the Trinity ensemble that left her as breathless as the Crested Cockatoo ring.
Each piece of jewelry lay nestled snuggly within their own indentations inside the luxurious red velvet. She would never be able to repay him. For any of this. Spotting the writing along the inside of the bracelet, ring and necklace pendant, she read:
Trust Friendship Fidelity
Picking each one up and examining them, she rotated them about in her hand. The diamonds caught the light as they glittered. Each piece was meticulously crafted of three intertwining rings of pink, yellow and white gold. The ring unsurprisingly, was a perfect fit. Reaching for the Cockatoo ring, Joanne also tried it on, being extra careful considering the lethal contents inside the sapphire beads. It also fit. Once in London, she would wear it on her dominant left hand, just in case. The Trinity ring would go on her right.
The only thing left was the ominous looking manila folder with the Official Secrets Act inside. As she opened it, a folded piece of paper fluttered out, the salutation written in plain Syncode at the top: BR1R1Y1R3R1Y3BR3 PL1W1Y1LB3LB3R1. For some reason this made the letter seem foreboding. The rest of the letter was written in the same:
Dearest Joanne,
I have one last request, and that is that you do not succumb to your normal insatiable curiosity. Do you remember the day my cousin called with news regarding the breach? You had gone directly to your room, and, using the glass on your nightstand, listened in at the air vent-
She froze. He knew! Somehow he had known. For a moment, it was as though Julian were there standing before her, his dark eyes questioning. Joanne felt as though she had been suddenly doused with ice water. Closing her eyes and taking a breath, she steeled herself to continue:
I do not blame your curiosity regarding these matters, Koritsi Mou. But I must reiterate the seriousness of the situation. Please do not try anything like that again. As stated before, the less you know, the better. It is out of love that I tell you this, Joanne. Please do not look (or listen!) in places that you shouldn't. Also, do not attempt to read, in any way, the letter that is meant only for my cousin Mycroft. Do you understand?
Again, I only remind you out of love. Our friendship is everything to me, Agape Mou. I do not wish to see you in any more danger than I've already put you in. For that I am deeply sorry, and even now regret having to do so but it is the only way.
As for the OSAS, please read and sign where needed. Mycroft will handle it from there. Again, I must repeat, leave the letter to my cousin alone. Should he choose to reveal its contents to you at a later time is up to him to decide.
One other thing. Please remember your promise to me regarding the subject we discussed on your first visit to Patos. I will not repeat it here, should this letter be intercepted. Do not forget. Of all the things we've discussed, this is the most important, and must never be spoken of.
Yours Faithfully,
Julian
Oh how that man could read her like an open book. It was true. The thought had crossed her mind on how to somehow read the letter to Mycroft. Holding the envelope firmly down against the letter inside, she'd been able to tell that Julian had written it in Syncode. The envelope was too thick, however, to make out anything else. Even without this added reminder Joanne was currently reading, she'd wisely decided it wasn't worth the risk. These were not normal people she was dealing with, never mind their job descriptions. Like Julian, she suspected Mycroft was also as observant of these things.
Joanne was pretty sure that last line referred to her promise of never revealing the whole Eurus/Red beard affair to Sherlock or his parents. It was a subject best not brought up with Mycroft, either. Julian had no need to worry on that score.
Setting down the letter, Joanne rubbed her eyes. The earlier excitement she'd felt about the mission had worn off. Combined with the fact that she hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, the bed was looking better than anything in the boxes that lay on it. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn't yet eaten. Normally she had her biggest, and usually the only, meal before twelve; it was the only way to keep the weight off in addition to the daily seven mile walks.
The scent of hearty tomato sauce and garlic bread hit her as she opened the door. Perfect timing. Making her way to the dining area, she greeted Nikki, who was putting together a nice pasta and salad dish.
"Here, let me help with that," Jo said, bringing silverware and plates to the table nearby. "I eat in the crews quarters with the co-pilot," Nikki said, blushing. It was obvious she wanted to be alone with him, and remembered the covert looks they had shared before boarding earlier. About to set another place for William, Nikki shook her head. "He won't eat with anyone. Takes his meals alone," she whispered, nodding her head in his direction. "I've tried to be friendly too, but he won't engage in conversation. It's weird!"
The two conversed quietly as William looked on from his seat in the aft section. His cold blue eyes watched her every move, his expression guarded and calculating. Were all SS men like this, she wondered? Joanne finished setting the table, and helped the young stewardess load the trays of food for herself and Bobby onto the cart. They looked to be in their late twenties, and both of them were beautiful. Oh, to be young again! At least she had Julian, she thought gratefully. Secretly though, she thought he could do much better than her. A sort of wistful melancholy settled over her as Bobby and Nikki trundled the cart away to the crews quarters, leaving her alone at the empty table. Sitting a few seats down the aisle, William continued watching her. What did he want?
"You sure you don't want to join me? There's lots of room," she said, gesturing to the table.
"I'm fine here," the blond man replied curtly, getting up and coming around to the side board. Heaping a pile of spaghetti and a side of salad onto the plate, he barely glanced at her before heading back to the seat, grabbing a can of soda on the way. "It smells nice on you," he tossed back as he went, looking straight ahead.
The perfume. So, he'd noticed. It wasn't even that strong, she thought, taking a quick sniff of her wrist. She'd applied only the bare minimum. "Thanks," she answered, somewhat mollified.
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, the blond man never once pausing his work on the laptop. Joanne checked her messages and read the news as she ate. Again, none of the headlines jumped out at her, except one little nugget buried deep, near the bottom of the news feed. At first glance, it seemed inconsequential:
Row over South China Sea islands heating up between Australia, China and Japan. Britain now involved in peace talks between the three powerhouse countries...
Fragments of Julian's side of the conversation came back to her from when he had been on the phone to the Japanese Prime Minister, a month before he'd left for Australia. Julian spoke the language, as well as Mandarin Chinese and it's various dialects such as Cantonese, Hunanese, Min and a host of others. He had been teaching her a little Japanese once Joanne had gotten the Greek down.
Australia and Japan. China. Bowing her head over the plate, she closed her eyes, trying to remember. What had he said? In her mind, she could hear his deep resonant voice as he spoke. The word shima had been repeated quite often, which was Japanese for 'island'. Heiwa (peace), Chūgoku (China), and oddly enough, Takara, which she was pretty sure meant 'treasure'. Running a hand across her forehead, she wondered if the meaning was lost in translation. If not, what kind of treasure did he mean? Was it possible she had remembered it wrong? No, it couldn't be. To her ear, Takara was a pretty word, especially the way Julian pronounced it. There was no way she had misheard that. Something either in, on, or perhaps the islands themselves, were the treasure..
Joanne looked up to find William assessing her again. "Are you alright?" he asked. There was no warmth in the way he asked, only mild concern and curiosity.
"Fine, thanks. Just trying to remember something. Brings on a headache, sometimes. In fact, I think I'll go lay down for a while. Didn't get much sleep last night," she added with a small smile.
He looked at her for a beat longer before resuming his work on the laptop. His long fingers flew over the keyboard. She wondered what he was working on. Shrugging, she figured it was none of her business.
Not one to have even hired help clean up after her if she could help it, Joanne washed up and put away the dishes, storing the leftovers in glass bowls she found above the sink. It was more of a kitchenette than an airplane galley. Before taking the bowls to the fridge, she asked William if he wanted any more.
"Nope," came the now familiar short reply.
"K," she answered, grabbing the wine and stowing it in with the rest. The table clean, she took a long sniff of the wonderfully scented cut flowers that sat upon it. An appreciative hum escaped her before she could stop herself. Joanne had no idea what kind they were, but whatever it was, the smell was sweet and fragrant. All sorts of colors and images ran through her head as she tried to sort out each note of the scent: Clover or hyacinth, with a mixture of dark wild flower honey.. Sighing, she turned to go back to her room.
"Dendrobium Kingianum," William muttered, glancing briefly at the flowers before returning his attention back to his work.
"What's that?"
"The plant sitting right in front of you," he answered as he typed, his face deadpan.
Joanne felt herself growing red again, this time in acute embarrassment with more than a little impatience.
"Obviously! I mean, what kind is it? I don't know much about plants, but this seems to be an orchid.." She trailed off as he glared up at her from his chair. Clearly the man had a temper.
"Really?" he sneered, his lip curling in contempt. "I wouldn't have known that!" The hands flew over the keys furiously.
"You know a lot about plants, then?" she asked, wanting to find some common ground with this man, even though she knew they would never meet again once this trip was over.
"I know everything about them. It's what I do." No more explanation seemed forthcoming as he kept his attention on the screen in front of him, typing rapidly.
"Nice. Well, there are worse kinds of hobbies, I guess.."
At this, his head jerked up as he stared hard at her, saying nothing. Her eyes widened in shock and surprise at his violent reaction. What had she said wrong now? Offering what little smile she could muster, Joanne swore in Greek and made a hasty exit to her room. What was with this guy? It was like walking on eggshells around him. Behind her, the agent raised an eyebrow in surprise and smiled slightly as he continued typing.
Never mind, she thought. After this was over she'd never have to worry about him again. Stretching out on the bed, Joanne yawned and fell into a deep sleep.
She realized she'd slept the entire trip when Nikki gently woke her to announce their arrival into London; or rather, an unmarked airstrip just outside the city. Lights flashed by outside the window, growing brighter and more distinct. Joanne wasn't looking forward to being in the city. She patted the breast pocket of her flannel shirt. The earplugs were still there, just in case. Gathering her things, Joanne remembered she had yet to sign the Secrets Act papers. No matter. That could be done at the hotel. Glancing at the clock on her phone, she saw it was four a.m. London time. It had automatically adjusted for the time difference. Good. She would have all day to fill it out, since Mycroft wasn't due at the hotel until that evening.
Mycroft.
Joanne smiled, remembering the photo of the chunky red haired, freckled boy. Hopefully he at least would be easier to deal with. For the moment, she'd forgotten Julian's other descriptions of him. Still, she'd had enough of the snide blond man who was now also getting ready for the landing and putting away his laptop. He carried only one other bag; the man traveled light.
The terminal was small and dimly lit. It was obviously only used for private charters and the like. There was no carpet at the foot of these stairs, she noted. Then again, why would there be? Although the sun was rapidly coming up over the horizon, the air was brisk and a steady breeze had begun to blow. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she glanced around. There was no one waiting for them except for the sparse ground crew and a sleek black car sitting nearby. Hurried goodbye's were said as Bobby and Captain Jeffries helped Joanne load the larger duffel and the boxes Julian had left with her into the expensive looking government car. She couldn't tell in the dim light, but she thought she saw the round skull like Jaguar head at the front of it. This was confirmed as she slid inside, the full form of a graceful cat in motion imprinted upon the backs of the seats. The blonde agent opened the door to the drivers' side and got in. Joanne shook her head. It didn't seem right, the wheel being on the right side of the car. It felt weird, even if she wasn't the one driving.
"Take care, girl!" Nikki chirped as Joanne rolled the window down to say goodbye. "We'll be here waiting bright and early for you and William tomorrow morning," She paused, tilting her head in thought. "It's a pity you can't stay longer, Bobby and I could show you around London. Or at least the bits you've not seen yet." Joanne had mentioned during the introductions earlier how she'd been there once, twenty years before. Had it really been that long? Damn, she felt old..
"Julian wants to visit family here later on this year. Maybe then?" Jo shrugged. "I'd love to visit the ravens at the Tower-"
She was rudely cut off as William rapidly rolled the window back up from a panel at the front of the car.
Now she was pissed. "What the hell, dude?! I was still talking!"
"And you would still be doing so until Sunday if it were not for my initiative," he quipped, steering the car out of the terminal in a screech of tires towards the freeway.
"No I wouldn't! It's not like I'd take her up on it, anyway! It's called being polite," she cried. Joanne started as she suddenly realized the change in his voice. Gone was the Australian drawl- it was now only British, with a strictly London accent. This was his true voice.
"No. It's called being BORING!" he shouted. The man had suddenly came to life, tearing the blond wig from his head with his free hand.
"Finally! I could not stand those people, much less this disgusting thing," he spat, throwing it down onto the seat beside him. "You don't mind do you?" he said, lighting a cigarette. Again, it wasn't a question. She had the feeling that he never asked permission for anything. Still, he rolled down his window, apparently knowing she didn't smoke. Seated directly behind him, Joanne recalled seeing the same mass of curly black locks while looking through Julian's photo album.
Everything made sense now.
That wild head of dark hair could belong to none other than Mycroft's brother, Sherlock Holmes!