Stories of all kinds

0.2

The next morning 8:53am

"Uh, ah, pff, I've never been asked about it directly uh, it's a funny thing-"

I wake up to my favourite ringtone, Tim's calling. I hope it's about Lyrah and who he really is. I get my phone and answer him.

"Yes, what is it?" I ask in a hurry for any information.

"I've searched since your return for a Lyrah Setrys and found only one thing. A phone number, a French one. Shall I text it too you?" Starts explaining Tim.

"Yes please, I will call the number later, with a burner phone, at the lab, you'll be there."

"Yes D-Doni, what time may I ask?" HE stutters on my name, I guess it's weird calling me by my second name.

"Um, around three pm, I hope I'm not disturbing any plans of yours." I confirm politely

"No, of course not. Have a nice morning, see you later Boss." He hangs up.

I get my day started with the usual, breakfast, work out, shower, work.

3pm

"Alright are you ready Tim?" I ask preparing to call the misterios number. It's probably a non-traceable number but let's see.

I dial the number on the burner and press call.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

Someone picks up. "Hello?" says an adult male voice

"Yes hello may I ask who is this?" I ask hoping for any kind of information.

"My name's Lyrah Setrys and you?" The voice I was hoping to hear answers kindly, yet I'm not sure it's a good idea to give my name. Weird he gives his name out without taking precautions.

"Hello??" Lyrah asks. I was silent for a bit.

"Yes sorry my mind was elsewhere, I'm Silith, Silith Phitopy." I answer, inventing a family name different of mine, entirely.

"Hello Silith, why are you calling me?"

"Well you see, I found this phone number in a public toilet in France, is that normal? Do you have angry ex by some sort?" I giggle, trying to. hide the fact that that was the most terrible lie I've ever told, god dammit.

"Uh weird, little people have my number, and I have no exes, not that I can recall even being my girlfriend. You must've miss read the number, french to often have bad handwritings." He jokes, as an 37.5% French myself, I believe it to be true.

"Oh well my upmost apologies for disturbing you sir, I hope you have an excellent day, and again, I'm so sorry." I respond and hang up.

"Did you get a location?" I ask Tim.

"Yes, it's in London Boss, South London, bizarre don't you think?" Answers ym assistant.

"Indeed, yet he didn't neglect that it's impossible to have his phone number in a French toilet, he either is in France or has a past there."

"So what shall we do now?" Questions Tim.

"We have to wait before inspecting the location, it might be some trap. Let them believe we are just simple people." I respond. "We just go back to doing the usual.

"Okay Doc, may I go home for today, I'm very tired and in need of rest." Demands Tim, his eyebags are terrible.

"Yes yes of course, go ahead and rest up!"

"Thank you very much, see you tomorrow."

"Bye now."

A few days later Sheeia searches the location and it's surroundings, they find nothing, not one clue, all they have is his phone number. For the next five weeks they become obsessed with figuring out who is the man they saved. Nothing. Tim tries to reason with Sheeia, make them understand that there's no point on continuing, he might just be an ordinary man with a protected phone. Who wouldn't these days, right?
After days of trying to convince Doni, Tim finally gets them to accept they have to let their investigation go and first off that's not why they went to Kabul. Sheeia let's it go, and continues with investigating what they really went to do there. Back to the usual.