Shot Account One: of phones and first meetings

Part Two

The mountain led us out of the front door and to a well-hidden car down the road. Silently, I climbed in the back as he shifted into gear. Shay sat herself down on the passenger seat, curled up like a teenager being picked up by-

"Is he your dad?"

She chuckled, moved the rear-view mirror to look at me. The driver slapped her hand away and moved it back. "He wished." She took out her phone, the screen illuminating the car. "This is Fox. He's just a bit... protective."

"I have a right to be." Fox spoke for the first time, and he did so with a thick Northern accent. "You were-"

"I was fine." I could see her typing, probably sending a message to that Carlyle. "I orchestrated my own rescue, didn't I?"

Fox's eyes flicked to me briefly. "That the guy?"

"Yeah, Aiden." She tucked her phone away. "He does IT, so-"

"His data was useful." Fox agreed.

"We got him?"

"Yeah." His eyes darted back to me, kindness peeping through for the first time. "You got out just in time."

And something inside me settled. "I know." I relaxed into the seat. "Thanks."

I don't remember much from the trip there, but the house they took me to was massive. I don't know much about architecture, but even I can tell the structure is at least three hundred years old.

The porch light was on.

Fox parked the car near the front door, and she got out with a deep sigh.

"If he stayed up..."

"He did." Fox took a black backpack from the boot and closed the ranks as we walked to the door. "Made me wake him when I left."

"And Peter?"

"Thinks you're chasing a lead up in Oxford."

"Good." She turned the knob, seemed to be bracing herself before she opened it. "Let him."

The door opened to a grand hall, the classic manor picture with double stairs at its centre. Just inside the door, clad in cotton pyjama bottoms, a ratty shirt and a thick housecoat and holding a cup and saucer, was Carlyle. I recognised him immediately. He was taller than I'd imagined, his hair a bit shorter, his face shaven, but those eyes. Those eyes pierced me even if they only swooped over me. They were a river of ice, a shock to the system. Shay didn't seem bothered by them.

"Tea?"

She took it. In the brief moment before she took a sip, I could look into the cup. Dark, no milk. Noted.

"How are you?" His focus seemed to be fully on her. Everyone's was. She seems to have that effect on people. Small. Unassuming. The gravitational centre of any room.

"I'm good." She half-shrugged. "Need an extra room for Aiden."

"There's a West wing room set up." Carlyle took the saucer back. "We figured you'd bring back a stray." Finally, his gaze landed on me for longer than a second. "There's chamomile and some Lunesta on your nightstand. Please sleep."

"I'll try." There was something in her tone of voice, almost a solemn promise, even though it seemed like such a simple exchange. It wasn't until much later, after many middle-of-the-night calls, that I realised how simple it really wasn't.

Carlyle seemed to be satisfied with it, and he focussed more on me. I shook his hand, he introduced himself. I told him my name. He turned on his heel and I followed, off to the West wing.