Sylvie wore a thin trench coat and carried a worn canvas bag containing only a few pens her grandfather had used during his lifetime.
A special envoy escorted her to the aircraft door. "Chief Engineer Schaefer, for the next six years, no one outside will have any way to find you. Are you certain you don't want to leave an emergency contact? Not even your child...?"
"I don't have a child."
As soon as she spoke, the phone in her pocket began vibrating violently.
There was no name attached to the number, but she knew it by heart.
The first call.
The second.
The 10th.
The 20th.
Countless times in the past, Sylvie had clutched her phone until dawn, hoping that number would send even a one-word reply.
When the 31st call came through without relenting, she put it on speaker.
Alexander'
