Chapter 2
Irene felt a forceful nudge on her shoulder and she immediately started awake. Taking notice of her surroundings as she regained consciousness, she found that she was still in the car in her blood-soaked hijab but the car had stopped. Sherlock was leaning over her seat from the driver's side, trying to wake her, non-too gently. "Good. Get up. We're here." he said unceremoniously, leaving her alone as he alit from the vehicle to grab a knapsack and some supplies from the boot of the Range Rover. Irene noticed that she was in a military base of some sort and there were quite a few Pakistani soldiers in fatigues milling about. Apart from the Pakistani flag, there was a green flag on the pole with a crescent moon and two crossed swords underneath that matched the insignias sewn on the soldiers' arms. Irene immediately recognized it as the flag of the Pakistani Inter-Services. Of course, she thought. Getting in and out of Pakistan was no mean feat even for Sherlock Holmes and she wondered what kind of strings he had to pull to get the ISI's help. She checked her face in the rearview mirror and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
After collecting his supplies, Sherlock walked up to the passenger side and help her alight from the car. "Know how to fake any accents? I'm a good friend of the Director's but I can't risk him knowing that I got you out. Your cover is a foreign businessman's wife but one with little presence here so as to necessitate British intervention. You have about a minute or so before he comes to meet us, so I suggest you come up with something quick." Immediately, Irene's mind went to work. An American cover was out of the question, as it would heighten rather than reduce suspicion. She could try the South American route but then it wouldn't explain the need for British help. No, she needed something European and suitably obscure. She noticed that a decorated official had exited the main bungalow and was slowly making his way towards the new arrivals. Ah, she had it now.
Feigning what she hoped was the right amount of panic and shock, she noticed that the official had given Sherlock a big hug before turning to look at her. "Director Zaheer, I wanted you to meet Miss…" Sherlock gave her a pointed look which she took as her cue to speak. "Mrs. Helena Ilves. From Estonia." She held her hand out in greeting. "I'm very grateful for all your help, I cannot wait to return home to see my family and my children." She was pretty glad she'd had an Estonian sub for the better part of the early aughts—it turned out that Anna had more uses than knowing the right temperature to wash her extensive lingerie collection. Irene made a mental note to send Anna a fruit basket the next time she was in London.
The director was a middle-aged man who was looking at her with some concern. "Mrs. Ilves, I'm so happy to know that you are ok. Please, let me know if there's anything else we can do to offer our assistance. We're extremely grateful to know that you're alive." He said this with a warm, generous tone and Irene was relieved at the sight of a friendly face. "I have a satellite phone in my office, if you need to call your family." Irene took that as a cue to feign weakness and she immediately slumped against Sherlock. "Thank you Zaheer, we might take you up on that offer later. I think Mrs. Ilves is in shock. Can you direct me to your medic" he said, trying to support her. "Of course, of course!" Zaheer waved at his aides and immediately, two soldiers ran over to them. "They'll take you to the clinic." Irene smiled at Zaheer gratefully as Sherlock waved off the attempts of the soldiers to take her.
They were led to the bungalow that housed the compound's clinic and were told to wait while the staff doctor was called. Irene rested on the small cot while Sherlock sat in the doctor's chair. The two soldiers who accompanied them had left in search of the medic, leaving them momentarily alone.
"ISI?" Irene was quite curious as to why Sherlock seemed to be on such good terms with its director. "How on earth were you manage to swing this?" She busied herself with removing her hijab, indifferent to Sherlock's presence.
Sherlock had sunk fully into his chair, leaning back. It seemed he was trying to catch a quick nap. "He owed me a favor, I called it in." he answered, not even bothering to open his eyes.
"And what kind of favor would that be?" she said, genuinely curious.
"He lost something in the back of an ice cream truck and I found it." he said, seemingly annoyed that she was trying to interrupt his nap.
"What was it, his son's baseball cap?" she said, trying to crack a joke.
"No." He opened eyes to look at her intently. "A modified Ghauri-III missile with a nuclear warhead, if you must know." He glanced at the door, listening for footsteps. "Good, the doctor's here. That should keep you from bothering me for a little while, Mrs. Ilves." He leaned back in his chair to resume his nap as the doctor came into the room, inquiring after her health. Irene schooled her features into what she hoped was an appropriate amount of distress, silently wondering what other surprises Sherlock Holmes held up his sleeve.