Fic for sadbhyl: The Bookkeeper's Apprentice
Title: The Bookkeeper's Apprentice
Recipient: sadbhyl
Author: [to be revealed]
Character/Pairings: Mycroft Holmes, Mary Russell
Rating: PG
Summary: Mycroft's promising protégée has an unfortunate taste for legwork.
A/N: This work is also a crossover with Sarah Caudwell's The Sirens Sang of Murder.
The Bookkeeper's Apprentice
He has an extraordinary faculty for figures, and audits the books in some of the government departments.
- Sherlock Holmes on Mycroft Holmes, "The Greek Interpreter"
"Ah, yes, Miss Russell. Do be seated."
"Mr Holmes." The tall blonde faced Mycroft Holmes across the barrier of his desk - which had been cleared of all paperwork other than her report in a somewhat ostentatious manner, and not entirely as a gesture to greet the New Year.
It wouldn't do to let his young protégée be - distracted - by irrelevant information.
Not after that little incident involving the Swiss bank's records, certainly.
Not that it would do to be so crude as to proceed directly to a discussion of that topic. Once one had made such an overt move as to mention the matter openly, one had lost the option of obtaining information by subtler methods.
"I trust that you're adapting well to your new contact lenses? Still haven't opted for laser surgery, I see." The tinted lenses were just visible to a careful observer as her eyes flicked briefly over the desk blotter - which, like the desk itself, was innocent of written information, as this was the beginning of the month.
Today would see the turning over of more than one new leaf, he hoped.
"No, sir. The game hardly seemed worth the candle."
A little silence fell - a mere pause between phrases in this fencing match - broken by Miss Russell clearing her throat. Just a shade of nerves showing there, I fancy.
"The Edelweiss report - in summary, your sources were quite right; the UK accountant they've been using in managing some of their settlements is a weak link in their security. He took over the management of some of his firm's clients after several senior employees in his firm retired a couple of years ago.
"Since that time, the pattern of transactions his firm has made has changed, in a way that saves them about 50 pounds per transaction. He appears to be personally responsible for rearranging the paperwork to accomplish this - it's been mentioned in his year-end performance review annually ever since." Her brows quirked up, and she smiled faintly.
Mycroft tilted his head, and prompted her for the punchline. "How does that constitute a breach of security?"
"He appears to have made this savings by eliminating the paperwork involved in holding the investments in the name of a non-resident company - by failing to hold the investments in the name of that company at all. Not to put too fine a point on it, by holding the investments in his own name and that of his clients' UK solicitor."
Mycroft sat back, genuinely astonished. "Explicitly? As bare nominees for the client? Naming the client in the paperwork?"
"Not in the public record, no - as far as that goes, he and the UK solicitor would appear to be responsible for the tax liability. However - if the Revenue came asking awkward questions, their only defence would be to produce the accountant's internal records, which - er -" She faltered, realizing that she'd slipped.
Mycroft sighed, giving her a world-weary look. "Yes, Miss Russell? You were about to tell me what you'd unearthed from the internal records of his firm?"
She looked chagrined for only an eyeblink, then continued. "His internal records indicate that the funds are held in trust for various settlements, specifying each by code name. The names of the individual clients are not given."
Mycroft made a moue of disgust. "Pennywise and pound foolish. Not at all the standard of professional competence and discretion one expects of a Swiss bank."
Miss Russell had reassembled her composure as though it had never been ruffled. "As I said, sir, he inherited these particular accounts from more senior - and, I daresay, more competent - members of his firm."
Mycroft met her eyes squarely, his face suddenly losing all expression. "Indeed. Junior employees sometimes have a regrettable tendency to take shortcuts, which can have unintended consequences, can they not."
Miss Russell closed her eyes briefly. "Touché."
After a brief pause, Mycroft prompted gently, "And the rest of your report, Miss Russell?"
"I - insinuated myself into the firm for a brief period, as a junior employee...so junior that I was working on some of the tax records at late hours while anyone with any seniority was on holiday." She looked up, defiance finally showing through her professional mask. "It came off without a hitch - the economy is so bad right now that nobody thought twice of someone my age taking any job she could to make ends meet. And nobody will think twice that I was apparently surplus to requirements and am no longer employed by the firm, now that the year's end rush is over."
"Still, Miss Russell, your - impetuous - action could have had serious repercussions. Once the accountant - or, indeed, the UK solicitor named in your report - are made aware of the weakness in their financial arrangements' confidentiality, they will take steps to eliminate those weaknesses, which will cut off our best lead in tracing the flow of the relevant funds."
She drew in a breath to argue - then stopped.
"Good. You do realize the possible problems that may have arisen."
"Yes, sir." She met his eyes. "But I got results."
"So you did." He weighed her up one final time, before committing himself to his chosen course of action.
"And, I note, you are willing to take responsibility for the consequences. Good. But it would be better if you were able to achieve your ends while leaving fewer - traces.
Still, on the whole, you have shown yourself willing to take on hard, dull, professionally dangerous work for weeks at a time, which is a potentially useful and even valuable skill that we should hone."
He smiled, somewhat evilly, he knew. As always, if one had enough problems, one could make them start solving each other...
...such as the problem of an overeager employee who needed seasoning, and the problem of his brother's sadly random information network.
"I have another job for you, which should fit your skills nicely, especially this latest tendency of yours to want to do legwork," he said, with some distaste seasoning his last few words. "And if you can manage this bit of infiltration, it will not only give us access to another network of information here in London itself, but it will serve as a proper field test of your ability to establish and maintain a cover for prolonged periods of time in the face of possible suspicion.
"In short, I am assigning you to infiltrate my brother's homeless network. If you can avoid exposure by Sherlock for - let us say - more than six months, I will reopen your request for transfer to Operations."
She looked torn between hope at the prospect of early transfer, and deep suspicion of his motives.
"It's a fair enough test, Miss Russell. My brother has never met you, and has never heard you referred to in his presence by anything other than your bare surname - which, knowing Sherlock, means that he will have assumed that you are male. As long as you do not use your proper surname - perhaps your given name and your mother's surname, instead? - you will have a fair chance of playing your part."
She smiled, a spark of devilment in her face as she accepted the challenge. "Done."
"Spare change, sir?"
"Don't mind if I do."
- member of the homeless network and Sherlock Holmes, "The Great Game"
Recipient: sadbhyl
Author: [to be revealed]
Character/Pairings: Mycroft Holmes, Mary Russell
Rating: PG
Summary: Mycroft's promising protégée has an unfortunate taste for legwork.
A/N: This work is also a crossover with Sarah Caudwell's The Sirens Sang of Murder.
The Bookkeeper's Apprentice
He has an extraordinary faculty for figures, and audits the books in some of the government departments.
- Sherlock Holmes on Mycroft Holmes, "The Greek Interpreter"
"Ah, yes, Miss Russell. Do be seated."
"Mr Holmes." The tall blonde faced Mycroft Holmes across the barrier of his desk - which had been cleared of all paperwork other than her report in a somewhat ostentatious manner, and not entirely as a gesture to greet the New Year.
It wouldn't do to let his young protégée be - distracted - by irrelevant information.
Not after that little incident involving the Swiss bank's records, certainly.
Not that it would do to be so crude as to proceed directly to a discussion of that topic. Once one had made such an overt move as to mention the matter openly, one had lost the option of obtaining information by subtler methods.
"I trust that you're adapting well to your new contact lenses? Still haven't opted for laser surgery, I see." The tinted lenses were just visible to a careful observer as her eyes flicked briefly over the desk blotter - which, like the desk itself, was innocent of written information, as this was the beginning of the month.
Today would see the turning over of more than one new leaf, he hoped.
"No, sir. The game hardly seemed worth the candle."
A little silence fell - a mere pause between phrases in this fencing match - broken by Miss Russell clearing her throat. Just a shade of nerves showing there, I fancy.
"The Edelweiss report - in summary, your sources were quite right; the UK accountant they've been using in managing some of their settlements is a weak link in their security. He took over the management of some of his firm's clients after several senior employees in his firm retired a couple of years ago.
"Since that time, the pattern of transactions his firm has made has changed, in a way that saves them about 50 pounds per transaction. He appears to be personally responsible for rearranging the paperwork to accomplish this - it's been mentioned in his year-end performance review annually ever since." Her brows quirked up, and she smiled faintly.
Mycroft tilted his head, and prompted her for the punchline. "How does that constitute a breach of security?"
"He appears to have made this savings by eliminating the paperwork involved in holding the investments in the name of a non-resident company - by failing to hold the investments in the name of that company at all. Not to put too fine a point on it, by holding the investments in his own name and that of his clients' UK solicitor."
Mycroft sat back, genuinely astonished. "Explicitly? As bare nominees for the client? Naming the client in the paperwork?"
"Not in the public record, no - as far as that goes, he and the UK solicitor would appear to be responsible for the tax liability. However - if the Revenue came asking awkward questions, their only defence would be to produce the accountant's internal records, which - er -" She faltered, realizing that she'd slipped.
Mycroft sighed, giving her a world-weary look. "Yes, Miss Russell? You were about to tell me what you'd unearthed from the internal records of his firm?"
She looked chagrined for only an eyeblink, then continued. "His internal records indicate that the funds are held in trust for various settlements, specifying each by code name. The names of the individual clients are not given."
Mycroft made a moue of disgust. "Pennywise and pound foolish. Not at all the standard of professional competence and discretion one expects of a Swiss bank."
Miss Russell had reassembled her composure as though it had never been ruffled. "As I said, sir, he inherited these particular accounts from more senior - and, I daresay, more competent - members of his firm."
Mycroft met her eyes squarely, his face suddenly losing all expression. "Indeed. Junior employees sometimes have a regrettable tendency to take shortcuts, which can have unintended consequences, can they not."
Miss Russell closed her eyes briefly. "Touché."
After a brief pause, Mycroft prompted gently, "And the rest of your report, Miss Russell?"
"I - insinuated myself into the firm for a brief period, as a junior employee...so junior that I was working on some of the tax records at late hours while anyone with any seniority was on holiday." She looked up, defiance finally showing through her professional mask. "It came off without a hitch - the economy is so bad right now that nobody thought twice of someone my age taking any job she could to make ends meet. And nobody will think twice that I was apparently surplus to requirements and am no longer employed by the firm, now that the year's end rush is over."
"Still, Miss Russell, your - impetuous - action could have had serious repercussions. Once the accountant - or, indeed, the UK solicitor named in your report - are made aware of the weakness in their financial arrangements' confidentiality, they will take steps to eliminate those weaknesses, which will cut off our best lead in tracing the flow of the relevant funds."
She drew in a breath to argue - then stopped.
"Good. You do realize the possible problems that may have arisen."
"Yes, sir." She met his eyes. "But I got results."
"So you did." He weighed her up one final time, before committing himself to his chosen course of action.
"And, I note, you are willing to take responsibility for the consequences. Good. But it would be better if you were able to achieve your ends while leaving fewer - traces.
Still, on the whole, you have shown yourself willing to take on hard, dull, professionally dangerous work for weeks at a time, which is a potentially useful and even valuable skill that we should hone."
He smiled, somewhat evilly, he knew. As always, if one had enough problems, one could make them start solving each other...
...such as the problem of an overeager employee who needed seasoning, and the problem of his brother's sadly random information network.
"I have another job for you, which should fit your skills nicely, especially this latest tendency of yours to want to do legwork," he said, with some distaste seasoning his last few words. "And if you can manage this bit of infiltration, it will not only give us access to another network of information here in London itself, but it will serve as a proper field test of your ability to establish and maintain a cover for prolonged periods of time in the face of possible suspicion.
"In short, I am assigning you to infiltrate my brother's homeless network. If you can avoid exposure by Sherlock for - let us say - more than six months, I will reopen your request for transfer to Operations."
She looked torn between hope at the prospect of early transfer, and deep suspicion of his motives.
"It's a fair enough test, Miss Russell. My brother has never met you, and has never heard you referred to in his presence by anything other than your bare surname - which, knowing Sherlock, means that he will have assumed that you are male. As long as you do not use your proper surname - perhaps your given name and your mother's surname, instead? - you will have a fair chance of playing your part."
She smiled, a spark of devilment in her face as she accepted the challenge. "Done."
"Spare change, sir?"
"Don't mind if I do."
- member of the homeless network and Sherlock Holmes, "The Great Game"