Forgetting the Past
Chapter Eight
The noise. The odours. The people. The deviance. Hollering. Howling. The cacophony of rattling on metal bars. And in the distance, the faintest strains of a Stratovarius.
“Where is he?” My voice bellowed against the stone walls as I entered the observation area of her cell. Her lean frame stood with statuesque poise in the room's center, meeting my gaze without qualms. “Damnit, Eurus! Where is he?”
She abruptly lifted her bow from the strings and moved toward the glass with her particular air of enigmatic brashness. “The clue is always in the music, big brother.”
I hadn’t noticed what she’d been playing. “Why did he come to you?”
“Where else can one go when they want hidden truths - when they need to disappear, unrecoverable by even the Holmes brothers?”
Her eyes scanned my body. There was no other human being in the world who could make me feel so utterly exposed. Not my mother. Not even Sherlock. Eurus, though… she was capable of knowing things about people they didn’t even know about themselves. “I assure you, little sister, everyone is recoverable.”
“Yes. Yes. Of course. If I remember correctly, you were quite unconscious when a half-witted GP recovered Victor’s skull. Perhaps you’ll do better this time.”
Before I realised what I was doing, my fists were slamming against the glass in a sudden outburst. “I will not tolerate your games. Tell me where he is. Tell me now, or I’ll see to it that you’re executed by sundown.”
Her reply was composed and unwavering. “You know already. Besides,” she turned away from the glass, raising her violin and making contact with the chinrest, “he’s perfectly fine. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to be undetectable to you. He’s completely unharmed. He’s simply not on your radar. But, you, brother dear, you are on his.”
“Everyone is on my radar,” I growled, ignoring her final statement. “What have you done with him?”
She began playing. Her voice was barely audible over the notes. “I only did what he asked. He knows, Mycroft.”
He couldn’t know. The only way he could know is if she told him. Tchaikovsky. Waltz of the Flowers. She was playing Waltz of the Flowers. Eurus. The east wind. Greek. Flowers. Anthea. “Anthea. Anthea.” I heard myself repeating the name aloud as I raced back through the corridors toward the helipad.
***
I screamed into my mobile as we took to the air. “We cannot trust Eurus Holmes. Operation Azreal remains active. Until the Inspector is found alive, this is a presumed homicide. Now, would you like to enlighten me as to how a common DI gained access to Eurus bloody Holmes?”
The Governor's responses went unheard as my mind immediately delved into contemplation. Why would Anthea betray me? I had given her everything. Aside from Greg, she was the only person I had ever trusted implicitly. The glint of gold from my ring caught my attention as I glanced down and terminated the call. Anthea possessed a matching ring; a means of tracking her that I had never found necessary.
I looked out the window as my private property came into view. My stately home stood surrounded by vast greenery, extending almost as far as the eye could discern, save about an eighth of an acre on the very perimeter. The helicopter began to descend adjacent the cottage situated at the rear of my estate. Historically, it had been a servant’s house. For more than a decade now, though, it had been Anthea’s home. It was a modest yet charming structure, seemingly enveloped by wildflowers. Her name - or the name she chose after I redirected her into a new life - was Greek, meaning “flowery.”
I stepped out of the chopper onto the damp grass, my eyes fixed on the open side door of the clay cottage. Every step felt like a deliberate act in slow motion as I neared the threshold. This particular door didn’t go into the main house, but into a root cellar. I descended the three steps and landed on the unfinished clay floor. An overhead light swung above me, my head nearly touching the ceiling. In the corner of the otherwise open space, was Greg. He sat on the ground, gagged and bound to a metal pole. Around him was a circular track of fuel and affixed to the restraints on his wrists was a bomb-like contraption that would, no doubt, ignite the petrol if he moved his arms. Despite his precarious situation, he remained alert, already locking eyes with me.
I moved toward Greg, reaching to remove the fabric from his jaw. I did so, carefully avoiding the fuel track, then stepped back to look at him.
“Hi, there.” He spoke so casually.
“What on earth have you done?”
“Mycroft, I think it’s my turn to ask you the same question. What have you done? To us?”
I inhaled sharply. Perhaps he did know. “What do you mean?”
“You knew you could fool me. But why in the world did you think you could fool Anthea and Sherlock?” His feet shuffled against the ground.
“Both have an inferior intellec….”
“Stop! Just stop!” He interrupted me mid-word. “Your superior intellect won’t help you now. In fact, it’s what usually gets you into trouble. Haven’t you noticed that? Myc, just drop it.”
“We can talk. We can. Let’s get you out of here first. How does this work?” I approached him.
“No. I can’t move until your sister deactivates the trigger sequence.” He nodded his head backward toward the contraption.
“Why? Why would you ask Eurus to make you into a booby trap?”
“Honestly?” His voice was suddenly meek. “Putting my life in imminent danger was the only way any of us assumed you’d come clean.”
“And the only way to put yourself in imminent danger was to go behind my back and enlist Eurus?”
“Well, frankly, yes. It’s the only way you’d have no control over the situation.” He looked down.
I straightened my back and expanded my chest. I was left with no choice but to admit the truth. “How long have you known?”
“I suspected when you showed up at the club. You were too forgiving. The Mycroft Holmes I know would never forgive me for hiding that life. Never.” He paused for a moment. “How long have you known?”
His inquiry made my stomach turn. “Greg, that’s really not important.”
“Not important? Jesus, Mycroft, you have to be joking! You’ve spent all this time torturing me. You’ve made me feel like some sort of otherworldly scum. You argue that I should be telling you the truth. You insist that we have no secrets. You have more secrets from me than I could ever possibly imagine, don’t you? And that doesn’t matter to me. It’s who you are. It’s what you do. But this one, Myc, is absolutely important.”
I looked away from him, still not sure I planned to answer.
“Mycroft,” he spoke softly again, “how long have you known? When did you find out I was part of that life?”
If I hadn’t already lost him, I was about to. “I knew before we met.”
His eyes turned immediately to fire as he stared into me. “Fuck you, Myc. Get out. Who cares what I’m rigged to here? Your sister isn’t even half as dangerous as you. Fuck you!”
“Greg, please listen to me.” I felt my body enter panic, as I searched for words.
“No. I won’t listen to you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I hope she kills me. It would be more mercy than you’ve shown me.”
“Greg. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I….”
“But, what? What? Offer me one good reason why you chose to pretend to me and everyone else around you that you had no idea about my past.”
Without prior consideration, I blurted my response. “I had to know if I could trust you!” Why did I say that? I could have said anything but that.
“Do you mean to tell me that you faked it all this time just to wait and see if and when I’d ever tell you? It was a test? You were testing me?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that, no. Greg, you have to understand that I can’t let people into my world without endangering them and myself.”
“But, you didn’t, did you? Let me into your world? You never let me in. That’s the whole point. You’ve been testing me since the first night. You pretend that night - all those nights - meant so much to you. Well, that can’t be true. If I mattered to you at all, you wouldn’t have done this. You would have at least admitted you knew once it all came out. You wouldn’t have put me through all this. You don’t love me. You love control, Mycroft. It’s the only thing in this world you care about.”
“Greg. Please. You need to understand.”
“Get out!” His voice traveled out into the surrounding field. Leave me here and get out!”
I stumbled up the stairs and out into the open air.