London fades into the clouds.
Gray merging with white.
City dissolving into vapor.
History becoming mist.
The plane is different this time.
Private.
Chartered.
Security protocol.
Publisher agreed.
Cost absorbed.
Safety prioritized.
No commercial terminal.
No crowds.
No lines.
No exposure.
We drive onto the tarmac.
Black SUV.
Direct to the stairs.
Steps.
Metal.
Cold.
Rain.
We board.
Quick.
Efficient.
Shielded.
Inside.
Leather.
Cream.
Quiet.
Hum.
Engine.
Low.
Smooth.
Eleanor climbs into the seat.
Window.
Straps.
Buckle.
Click.
Secure.
She looks out.
Watching the ground crew.
Vests.
Orange.
Moving.
Fast.
Marcus sits beside me.
Across the aisle.
Table.
Folded.
Down.
Laptop.
Open.
Work.
He looks up.
Checks on her.
Nods.
Safe.
Okay.
Good
