(eng) Peter Clines by The Fold

Author:The Fold [Fold, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-ONE

Mike’s fingers wiggled on the steering wheel. “So, where am I going?”

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

He shrugged. “There’s a lot of stuff I haven’t tried.”

“Thai? Italian? Mexican?” Jamie paused and frowned. “You’re not one of those people who thinks Taco Bell is real Mexican food, are you?”

“I was able to figure that one out on my own.”

She stretched in the passenger seat and put her feet up on the dashboard. “So what do you want?”

“We’re in San Diego,” he said. “I’m guessing there’s good Mexican food?”

“Great food,” she said. “I know a little hole-in-the-wall place. You’ll love it.”

“Where am I going?”

“Freeway. Go left.”

Mike flicked the directional, changed lanes, and made the turn just as the light flipped to yellow. She waved him onto a southbound ramp. “How far are we going?”

“I’ll let you know.”

He nodded, and they drove in silence for a moment. “You want to talk some more about the code?”

“Not really,” she said.

A few dozen responses flitted through his mind. He could push her for more information about the Door. He could be subtle about it and see what she let slip.

Or he could try to let it slide for a night and just enjoy being out with her.

“Here.” Jamie gestured at another ramp. “Stay in the first lane.”

“Okay.”

“So what’s up with Mike?”

He glanced away from the road. “Sorry?”

“Your name’s Leland, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’m guessing one of your parents was drunk when picking baby names?”

“Family name. Grandfather and great-grandfather were both Leland. Mom insisted.”

“How do you get Mike from Leland?”

“You don’t.”

She pointed at a sign. “South again,” she said. “Where’d it come from?”

“Why are we talking so much about me?”

“Because I spilled my guts the other night at the bar and all you want to talk about is work. Where’d Mike come from?”

“Reggie gave it to me back in junior high, about a year after we met.”

“Mike? That’s the best nickname he could come up with for you?”

“It’s a nickname for a nickname.”

“Now this sounds kind of dirty,” Jamie said with a grin.

“It’s short for Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes.”

“Related to Sherlock?”

“His older brother. Mycroft was introduced in ‘The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter.’ We had to read six of Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories for English class in tenth grade. Mr. Jones. Most boring teacher ever.”

“I’m still not getting it.”

“Mycroft was the superior Holmes. Smarter, more observant, better at deduction. But he never did anything with it. He didn’t study or sharpen his gifts, he just used them as a party trick now and then. He was the embarrassment who always frustrated Sherlock.”

“So Reggie called you Mycroft?”

“Everyone else called me Mycroft,” he said. “They’d all been in classes with me for years. Even after I decided I didn’t want to be special, I still couldn’t help blowing the bell curve. And they all knew I wasn’t trying at that point, which made it even worse. We read that story, and they all had me pegged. Hell, two of the teachers slipped and used it in class when they called on me.

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