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If only. As with most disasters, it isn’t one single event or decision or misalignment of stars that causes it but a myriad of tiny twists and turns over the course of the morning.
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‘We’re in a city of eight million people, and Faye could be anywhere.’
this was a twenty-year reunion with his old London housemates. Meaning for Aaron, she thought, hiding a smile, the stakes were far higher.
No offence, Jude, but you have the bonding skills of a piece of used Sellotape. I’m sending you because you’re good. And this is a big story. And because Sive is one of ours and could do with a familiar face.’
Aaron steps out of earshot to call his PA. If anyone can do some digging, Garvin can. He’s a bloodhound. A genius with tech and brilliant at research.
And Jude, ever the observer, is cool and composed, but for the first time, there’s a flicker of concern there too. And somehow, that unnerves Sive more than anything.
It’s a withheld number. He answers. ‘Aaron Sullivan.’ A woman’s voice begins to speak. Slow and deliberate. Every word carefully enunciated. ‘I have Faye.’
Trust is everything, Garvin. Lying about small things means a person might lie about big things. No smoke without fire.
YOU WON’T LIKE IT, Aaron, but your task is this.
