Standard disclaimers apply: Any rights belong to Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC. Only my original characters belong to me.
Dear readers,
thank you very much for the reviews, it is very helpful to know that you like what I am writing! I am very rough with some people in this story, still, this is the POV from this Irene, not from me. I hope you'll like this chapter, on with the story:
Chapter 2 – The rooks
With the usual care I prepared myself for the reception. Even the slightest detail had to fit to the identity I was using.
Indeed, I had organised every little detail of Klara Fürwangers life within one week. I had started with cloths, shoes and I didn't stop with pictures of her relatives. I hadn't brought the smallest piece of my real identity to England, anything might lead to my detection.
I had arrived in London several weeks ago and moved in one of Jim's apartments. The following weeks were spent with meeting Colonel Sebastian Moran and building up a fake relationship. It turned out that we disliked each other at first sight and it didn't improve. The more time we spent together the more we disliked each other. It demanded the best thespian abilities from us both to fake affection.
On the occasions I stayed overnight in his apartment, I used to sleep on his couch – I had had worse nights. At least I knew why Sebastian worked for Jim. The Colonel admired and respected Jim, he adored his genius and his ideas, he was devoted to him. Well, and I was an obvious concurrence for Jim's attention and love.
These conditions made it quite difficult to execute the plan that had formed in my mind over the last weeks. I could never outwit Jim alone, but if this Sherlock Holmes was as brilliant as he seemed to be, this would be my chance to cut all the ties to my old life. Jim trusted me, but under Sebastian's watchful and jealous eyes I had to be extra careful.
Right now I was in Sebastian's bathroom and applying make-up. I rarely used some, but since I was into Klara's personality, it helped a lot. My dress should be a surprise for Sebastian, I took my cape and wrapped it accurately around me. When I was finished, Sebastian was already waiting in the corridor, indicating his impatience by running back and forth. "What took you so long?"
"I needed to make my identity believable and this requires some time." I had the suspicion that he was annoyed because I had listened to German radio the whole day to get a better feeling for the timing and intonation of the language. There might be native speakers attending the reception. The only reason he had endured my capers was, that he respected and valued Jim.
He wrinkled his nose "Let us get over with it."
His apartment had a lift that ended in the underground car park of the building, our car was already waiting. But not his usual driver was behind the wheel, it was Jim. Great. Mr. Control-freak wanted to supervise the evening and Sebastian seemed to be informed about the absence of his chauffeur. It couldn't hurt to know what was going on.
"Where is John?" I asked.
"Drugs. They needed a reliable driver for their getaway car." Sebastian informed me a tad too patronisingly for my taste.
"No interference." Was my greeting for Jim as I entered the car and Sebastian shot me a censorious glance. I answered with an equally hostile stare and Jim giggled. He had observed us in the rearview mirror and was having a tremendous fun with our dislike for each other.
"I see you two are getting along well."
"Shut up." For once, we responded unison.
"Let's get on with it." Sebastian muttered and Jim floored the accelerator, sending Sebastian and me into the back seat.
Once I had my senses back, I stated. "I drive on the way back."
And for the first time I knew Sebastian, he was unconditionally my opinion. "'I'd appreciate it."
Jim just sneered. "Yellowbellies."
"There is a difference between being a yellowbelly and risking my life pointlessly." Sebastian remarked as Jim made a bold overtaking manoeuvre.
"And I'd appreciate not being arrested before I abstract the medallion. It would make the task a little complicated." I pointed out.
"You are the ace in my sleeve, Irene." Jim remarked but his smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Relieving. Indeed." I leaned back in my seat.
Jim and Sebastian switched to talking about their business and ignored me. I looked out of the window watching the passing gaudy advertisements and city lights, pretending not to listen to them. This was the perfect time and my hand slipped into my pocket and I switched my mobile on to record their conversation. Only when we reached the gateway of the Holmes' estate, they stopped their business talk and that was when I stopped my record.
The estate of Mycroft Holmes was impressing, the family had to be extremely well-off: a time-honoured, stately home and that in London.
The door was opened by an old-fashioned butler – I hadn't thought that these relics still exist and the coat of my company and my cape were taken care off.
It was the first time I had a glimpse on Sebastian's formal military uniform – he was a high-decorated officer of the British Army just as Jim's dossier had said. Well, I spotted one new decoration that Jim hadn't mentioned. And by the shocked look Sebastian sent me, I knew that he was not fond of the dress I had chosen. Well, he was a prudent, uninspired man and I grinned at him, taking his arm.
There was the host and he was already greeting Sebastian.
"Good evening, Colonel Moran. It is a pleasure to have you here." The host looked questioning at me and Sebastian felt compelled to introduce me.
"May I introduce my accompanist: Miss Fürwanger. Miss Fürwanger, Mr. Holmes."
This Mr. Holmes was the older brother, Mycroft. He was an attractive, lean man with an accurate hairstyle and restrained, distanced behaviour. He would make a worthy opponent, Mr. Holmes already sharp features appeared to be more like a bird of prey when he greeted me."Miss Fürwanger, it is a pleasure to meet you." Stiff, but urbane and eloquent. Cultivated hit the nail right on the head. A British gentleman as I imagined them.
With a slight nod and a heavy accent I greeted back. "Mr. Holmes, the same to you."
A flickering light appeared in his eyes, and he was holding my hand a tad too long. Somehow I had managed to arouse his suspicion, he was quite perceptive. Great. That meant that I would have to deal with him later this evening. Sebastian must have noticed it too, because he was taking my arm with a glance over his shoulder on the next arriving guests. Tonight he was giving the jealous, possessive lover of a young, adventurous woman. However, as always, Jim had chosen a man suiting the job.
The lobby was filled with people, mostly men from the military with their wives, dates, lovers or whoever they were and Sebastian leaned over to whisper into my ear "Anything to drink?"
"A White Russian, please."
He looked at me as if I came from another planet. What did he expect? I smiled my most faked seductive smile at him and bat my eyelashes. "Pretty, pretty please. A simple White Russian? With cream and not with milk? In a glass, pretty please?"
"Got it." At least he had his aversion against me under control, kissed me and vanished into the crowd. What left me behind with enough time to study the surroundings. With all the people gathered it should be no problem to get upstairs, the demanded object was in the second chamber of the left wing. A piece of cake. I scanned the crowd for any familiar faces, but there were none.
Waiters were roaming through the lobby and offering exquisite finger food that I unfortunately couldn't try. Much to my delight the waiters seemed to have enough insight into human nature not to approach me with their tempting offers.
Soon enough Sebastian was back with the demanded drink. "I need to talk to some of those present. You'll need to tag along to introduce you."
I nodded and took the offered arm, anything else would look suspicious later, my companion wasn't exactly what I called low-profile.
I went through countless introductions, the next person always more important than the last one – at least they thought so. I heard so many faked 'it is good to see the Colonel in company again, in such a charming one in addition.' that I thought I had to throw up. As soon as they turned their backs on us, they started their tattling. Perfect, if we were the centre of gossip this night, it meant that we were not in the centre of suspicion.
It was inevitable that Mycroft Holmes approached me, an in a moment Sebastian was distracted by an old friend, he came. He had two drinks in his hands and he offered me one. "Miss Fürwanger."
I accepted the drink and sniffed on it. Orange, almond, rum and pineapple mainly. A Mai Tai? "Mister Holmes?"
"Are you feeling comfortable?"
"Yes, thank you."
"I haven't seen you around yet, nor Colonel Moran mentioned you before."
"I arrived only two months ago in London to work."
"May I ask about your occupation?"
"I am an interior architect and are about to start my business in London to gain experience."
"It is an exacting piece of work, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is, if it is done with passion and a sense for perfection."
I was spared from anymore questions since some of his more important guests demanded his attention. Sebastian came back from his networking and I handed him my Mai Tai, he drank such poison.
It was then I spotted him. He was of average size, muscular, a jovial, friendly face and expression. Someone everyone liked as a best friend, to go out drinking. But he didn't suit this party. He was way to clumsy, standing at the side, talking to no-one, he was too restrained, he felt rather unsettled in his skin. He didn't belong here, but this wasn't Sherlock Holmes. Was this his companion John Watson? Jim had given me pictures and I was sure, yes, he was it. This man was so indifferent that he stuck out in this gathering of self-opinionated personae – including me.
I jolted as someone addressed me all of a sudden. "Guten Abend. Jemand erzählte mir, Sie kämen aus Deutschland?"
GREAT. Mr. Mycroft Holmes did dig out a German and urged him to test my language skills. His epaulette told me that he was an Air Commodore, I did have a knack for noticeable identities tonight. "Ja. Zur Zeit bin ich als freie Innenarchitektin in London tätig. Klara Fürwanger."
He offered his hand and introduced himself. "Frank Metzler. Sind Sie neu in London? Ich habe Sie noch nie beim deutschen Stammtisch gesehen."
Was he just testing me? "Ja, ich bin erst seit zwei Monaten hier und hatte noch keine Gelegenheit vorbeizuschauen."
"Schade. Vielleicht beim nächsten Mal?"
"Bestimmt."
As much as I disliked Sebastian, he had noticed that I was in trouble and popped up at my side. "Klara? Your Drink." With a perfect balance between stacking his claim and being friendly to Mr. Metzler, he eyed my colloquist and urged me to come with him. "I am sorry", he addressed Mr. Metzler and pushed me away. It seemed that Commodore Metzler was satisfied with his little test, he turned around to talk to someone else.
While I continued to scan the crowd for interesting and maybe disguised people Sebastian continued to do what he did best: network with me as a decoration at his side.
I was about to give up, when I noticed him. The silhouette of a tall, lank man and he was skimming the crowd just like I was. The family resemblance was there, but he hadn't the accurate hairstyle and his cloths were not as polished and a tad over the top as the ones of his older brother. He had a way to move and observe his surroundings that attracted me. He wasn't attractive in an usual way, he wasn't a womaniser, he was exactly my type. Jim must have foreseen it. This had to be the infamous Sherlock Holmes.
There were several possibilities to handle him, the last suspicious behaviour was, to flirt with him and to annoy him. I burrowed my way through the crowd and I positioned myself beside him. "It is an impressive gathering, isn't it?" It couldn't hurt to add a little superficiality. "All this important and rich people."
He threw a glance in my direction, eyed me from tip to toe, didn't miss my look and showed his disinterest by continuing to scan the gathered. From his point of view I wasn't worth an answer.
He was my type, he didn't like the mindless chit-chat one was confronted with at such occasions. He didn't waste his time with it.
But I wasn't put off so easily. I followed his look and the people he fixated. What was his scheme? "Have you tried the cocktails already? The Mai Tai is excellent." I lied.
He threw another contemptuous glance at me and ignored my flirty behaviour. "Indeed, it is." Liar, you haven't tried one!
He didn't show the the least interest in me and tried to get rid of me. He wasn't only attractive, I started to like him. And I continued to play my role, as if I was completely oblivious to his detest. "This estate is impressive. Where is Mr. Holmes' wife?"
If he had really fallen for this dull advances, I would have been disappointed. But why did he answer me? "I do not know."
"And the finger food! Simply delicious! You have to try this one." I picked one from the next tray that was passing us and offered it to him.
He wasn't looking at me and left me standing right where I was.
I had to suppress a victorious grin, I was a master in scaring someone away. I looked at the finger food that I had picked: some prawns. There was the next passing service and I placed the food on her tray – much to her bewilderment. It was then when I looked around and I noticed Mycroft Holmes watching my doing with interest. Yes, it was quite obvious since I had tried to flirt with his little brother. Anyway, he must have noticed my little slip when Sherlock had left me standing behind, there was no chance of denying it. I smiled at him, nodded and mingled to be lost to sight.
While making my way upstairs, I would have to keep an eye on several people, even Inspector Lestrade was around. And once again I was disappointed, they didn't keep an eye on me. No one of them. Without anyone noticing me, I made it to the door of the second room and after a quick glance right and left I vanished into it. Too easy.
Jim had told me the precise place where the medallion was kept and it didn't take me more than two minutes to find it. It was heavy, the amount of gold had to be high, still it wasn't precious. It was of sentimental value. I turned it around, it was untended. Nobody had polished it for a very long time, and had stored it carelessly, there was corrosion in one edge. This spoke volumes of Mycroft Holmes' priorities.
There was absolutely nothing on, in and at the medallion that might attract Jim's attention. Only the fact that it was a very personal item of the Holmes family that wasn't cared for. Way too easy.
All of a sudden my sixth sense warned me: Do not take it, this does not make sense. Never ignore a woman's intuition, mine had saved me several times.
Jim had said I could keep it, and that meant that I could store it wherever I wanted to. I took my mobile out of my clutch and made a picture of the medallion in my hand before I put it back and sent the picture to my email-account.
And not one second too early, because the door was abruptly ripped open and my jolt wasn't faked. The intruder was a tall, lean man with dark-brown curly hair with his eyes clued to his mobile. Sherlock Holmes. He hadn't noticed me yet, I reassured myself and coughed slightly.
He looked up. His keen eyes spoke of his intellect and why did I feel like he was looking right into my soul this time? I had done nothing wrong and I didn't need to justify my presence in this room, it hadn't been locked. As if my presence and his was nothing unusual, I turned my look back on my mobile and sent my message with the picture of the medallion attached to Jim. 'Done. IA.' While I tipped the message, I realised that my fingernails didn't fit. They were neat, but I hadn't used nail polish, I never used some – but Klara would. I deleted the picture of the medallion immediately.
When I was done, I looked up and he was still staring at me, as if something was wrong in the picture he was perceiving and that he was considering what. My cover was perfect, I had nothing to fear, I assured myself. The nail polish was just the icing on the cake.
My mobile rang and we both looked at our displays, we had the same device with the same ring tone. Was this one of Jim's bad jokes? I hadn't adjusted it. It was convenient, it made my plan only easier to execute. It was mine and I shrugged apologetic with my shoulders while he put his into his left pocket. I read: 'No. Got to get out. JM'
The mischievous grin on my face wasn't faked while I walked towards the door. "I've got what I had been looking for."
His blunt "No, you haven't got." made me smile widely. He had realised that I wasn't who I pretended to be, but he wouldn't stop me, he wanted to know about Jim's plan.
Yes, this was Jim's game, I needed more creative thinking and I needed to be faster if I wanted to stay out of prison and live to see my next birthday.
This man was the only reason why Jim had engaged me. But why? Did he expect me to make a havoc of this man's snug little world? He must have known that I'd find him attractive.
He was standing in the doorway, I had to squeeze myself between him and the doorway, I couldn't avoid to jostle him. Perfect. Instinctively he checked his left pocket, yes, the mobile is there. Still, it was wiser to leave as soon as possible. Before he realised that I had exchanged our devices. Something told me that he would be way more colloquial on our next meeting.
Though Sebastian hadn't stopped networking, he noticed me coming down the stairs and nodding towards the exit. Since some other guests were leaving too, we had to wait some time before we got our coat and cape and I looked back to the balcony. Sherlock was leaning against the balustrade and watching our departure. There was no doubt that he had searched the chamber for missing items, but everything was still on its place. Except for his mobile. I gave him one of my mischievous smiles.
"Your cape, Klara." Sebastian had an aggressive tone in his voice, he must have addressed me before. Sherlock must still be watching us, I could verify his assumptions – or deductions as he loved to call them and show off.
I almost yanked my cape of Sebastian's grip, wrapped myself into it and stormed out of the building. While he struggled with his coat, Sebastian had his trouble to follow me and was swearing like a trooper. Jim had given this job to me and he better shut up, before I dropped a word about his unprofessional behaviour. Much to Sebastian's luck, Jim was already waiting to pick us up right at the entrance and we hopped into the car.
There was another man in the car and as he turned to greet us, I recognised John Clay. Mr. Goldfinger in person, he stole gold and jewels exclusively and he was one of the masterminds in the London criminal scene. There was no crime in London that wasn't connected to Jim or John. "Got it?"
I patted my décolleté without batting an eyelid. You had to be a congenital liar to fool Jim, Sebastian and John at once. "Of course, Jim got the picture."
Jim nodded, he was the authority they accepted and in questions of business he trusted me.
The drive into the centre of London passed in silence and when we left the outskirts behind, I looked out of the window. We were in one of the many random streets of London and we were fairly close to my destination. I tipped Jim on his shoulder. "I need to get off."
His mind needed a female challenge and as a matter of fact he was irritated, but he stopped. "28 days, Irene. I want him at my gun barrel on that day, I'll sent you the coordinates."
This was a change of plans typical for Jim and all I did was to nod before I closed the door. There was no use to discuss the matter with Jim and he drove off with Sebastian and John, and with certainty they examined their last foray.
I remained rooted on the place until they were out of sight and switched the mobile on. It took some time before it got a connection, but I got some spare time. There it was. Connected. I was locatable and I messaged Jules "Fish is eatable in England. IA."
If this Sherlock Holmes was smart enough, he would realise my scheme and follow my moves until I had frequented most of Jim's business partners. I was risking my life on the slightest chance that this man could outwit Jim Moriarty. How long would it take until Jim would notice my betrayal? It was essential to find the right timing, to find the right point to make the break. And I knew where I would run to. It was surely not the police. Too many of them were on Jim's payroll.
But this was many steps further. Firstly, I had to get rid off my high-heels and I threw them into the next trash-bin, the stocking took the same way. There was a long walk before me and the slippers in my clutch had to do. The stockings would only tear.
I turned up my collar, the wind was bitter cold, the first snow wasn't far. Making sure that no specific direction was detectable, I took a zickzack course. Only when I was sure that I was not followed and observed by one of Jim's henchmen, I turned to my true destination. I took the mobile to call Jonathan, an old friend. One of my rules was, never to save an important number, I could memorise them all. We had agreed on a code and even when it was in the middle of the night we would know that this is an emergency and that we could rely on each other. Sherlock would be able to extract the information from his mobile provider and follow my move.
An hours walk later – London was a large city to be explored on foot, but it left no traces – I stood in front of Jonathan's house and despite the late hour, there was light in one of his windows. I rang and looked up into one of his camera's before the door opened. Indeed, he was a technophile.
The door closed automatically behind me, a nice touch, this was new. Without further invitation I went upstairs to where the light had been.
I had a cordially welcome. Jonathan leaped from his seat and squeezed me. Once more I wondered how such an old and fragile man could spare so much energy. When I had first met him, I had estimated him seventy years old and that had been fifteen years ago. "Irene! What a surprise! What brought you to London? The last time we met, you were about to marry Godfrey Norton and leave England."
I laughed heartfelt and hugged him as well. "Well, that are two stories and they are not short."
The eyes in his wrinkled face twinkled. "I have time, but you do look like you are in a hurry. May I take the time to fetch us some beer and you may tell me what you have on your mind?"
I followed him to his kitchen and we talked for hours to fill him in. When it was dawn, I took a shower and changed into some less conspicuous dress that I had stored in Jonathan's house just for this occasion. With blue jeans, a black pullover, black boots and a grey cape I could keep a low profile. Jonathan eyed me from tip to toe and with the remark that still most men would look after me, he handed me a square glasses in a black frame. In addition to my Emma Watson short haircut I made the perfect librarian now.
Our idea had been to make a game plan, but I was too tired and as soon as I sat down in the fluffy cushions on his couch, I fell asleep.
Only seconds later a familiar bell rang and the mobile beside me vibrated. I rubbed my eyes, right I was at Jonathan's and that was Sherlock's mobile. I picked it up, there was a message for him and I opened it.
'White bishop takes black pawn. F6. JM'