Ava cleared Immigration and Customs in less than twenty minutes, then phoned Lily Simmons from the station platform while she waited for the express train to Victoria. Simmons’s mobile went directly to voicemail. Ava hung up and then tried the office line, expecting to get an automated receptionist. Instead she heard, “This is Lily Simmons.” Her voice was full of cheer. Ava noticed that her accent was soft and rounded, the S’s prolonged like a hiss. “And this is Ava Lee.” “Ms. Lee, you are in London?” Thank God she remembers, Ava thought. “I’m at Gatwick, waiting for the express train to Victoria Station.” “From Victoria, you know, you can catch the Jubilee line directly to Canary Wharf.” “Yes, I saw that.” “Your intention is to do that, to come directly to me?” “It is.”
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