by Sara Forbes
"A deadbeat friend of my dad mentioned he'd invested in Bitcoin. I don't know why, but it stuck in my head and I decided to investigate. Well, then the bug took over. I saw Bitcoin not just as a currency but as a revolution—taking the power from big banking and handing it back to the little people. I was young and foolish, and in a way, I wanted to avenge the world for my parents' poverty."
She nods, indicating I should continue.
"Yeah, I wanted to make a real splash. It wasn't enough for me to put my pennies into it, I wanted a whole consortium. I'd always been a trendsetter in school and I was confident I could knock a group together. I talked to random strangers in bars—that's how I recruited Jack and his twin Felix, just two sunny Californian guys over in London for a visit. I got a good vibe from them and they parted with a few hundred dollars each. I met Paul in a homeless shelter—long story—and he's the genius who made it all happen, by endlessly watching the market, buying up all kinds of crypto and reinvesting. Yeah, so eventually we were seven guys, and I liked that number."
"Then when Bitcoin took off a few years later, managing the group took over my life. Some of the guys were getting excited, demanding that I sell, but I convinced them to wait. My friends in California had forgotten about their investments and I had to call then up to explain to them that they were in fact, billionaires." I let out a chuckle. "Fun times."
"What? They didn't know?" she asks.
"Nope. Jack just laughed at me."
"What a thrill it must have been telling them."
"You bet. Very empowering."
"And your family?
"Well, I tried to get them to move into a nicer house, but they refused flatly. They were entrenched in the local community. My younger brother Rowan though...He went off the rails. Committed suicide at age twenty-two."
"I'm so sorry," she gasps.
It's okay. I mean, I've mostly gotten over it. I can understand how it happened. His life as a drug-addicted railway worker was just about bearable until he got word of how rich I was. That sent him over the edge. I'm responsible for his death."
"No, you can't say that."
"Yes. I can. And I had to acknowledge my part in his misery so I could do something to stop the problem getting even worse. I started keeping tabs on the younger two brothers, to make sure they didn't continue down the same road as Rowan. I came down on them like a ton of bricks, making sure they took responsibility for their lives, did better in school, cleaned up their acts, something my dad neglected to do. They were pretty broken after Rowan died, so I could push them onto a better track."
"And did they sort themselves out?"
"Eventually, yes. John's now carpenter and Fred's got a degree in aviation. The price is, they don't like me very much, but that's OK."
"And the other six Bitcoin guys? They're happy in the group?"
"We've weathered up and downs together. There are so many egos to manage with his lot, it's a full-time job. Especially now..."
"Why especially now?"
"Now we're actually doing something. Owning all that Bitcoin doesn't mean anything unless that money can be used to do something in the world."
"Like shelter Natasha?" she asks.
"Yes. That came unexpectedly but it was the kick I needed. And I'd like to continue with such projects, except it's getting harder to execute the plans. Everyone has different ideas. And suddenly it's gotten messy, people making demands, you know? You need one decision maker. It can't be a fluffy democracy."
"What kind of demands?"
"Chiefly, they want their wives and girlfriends to be allowed in the group so they don't have to hold secrets. I've always flatly refused such requests thinking them totally unnecessary until..."
"Until?"
I groan. "Until now."
She smiles. Then she leans in to kiss my cheek. "Hm, fancy that?"
"Okay. You win."
"I like winning." She comes over and straddles me on the chair. Her weight on my thighs makes me feel trapped and horny.
Slowly, she starts unbuttoning my shirt. I'm hungry and I'm not going to hide it. I can't hide it.
I watch as she unbuttons the whole way down. She peels the sleeves off each arm and casts the shirt aside. Her fingers trail down my naked chest.
I shiver, despite the heat. "I can't hold out if you run your fingers up and down me like that."
"I thought you had an iron will?" She grinds into me.
"I got an iron something else going on," I growl, tightening my grip on her hips.
She looks down. "I think the heat of bitcoin mining is driving us to this."
"Good. At least it's useful for something."
27
JESS
AFTER SEX, EGAN GOES SILENT. We're lying naked on the mattress that he pulled out from a cupboard. He's propped up on his elbow, his gaze darting over and back as if assessing me as he runs his fingers over my skin. He's exploring a particularly sensitive spot between my breasts when he says, "Jess, I want to plan ahead. With you in my life."
My eyes ping open wide. His voice rings with the utter truth. I want to respond. But I don't find the words. All I can do is nod.
"But the only way that's going to work is if you work for me. That way, when I go away, you can come with me, and perhaps even work alongside me."
I say the first thing that hits me. "But I already have a job."
His hand stills. He looks like he's about to contradict me, but I rush on. "A business actually. It may not be as salubrious or as world-changing as your business, but it's important to me. And it's a partnership. Martha relies on me and I on her."
"I understand—"
"Besides, I think it best to keep work life and private life separate. You'll see I'm right."
"You're right," he says heavily. "Of course, you're right But I don't have the luxury of separating work and life. This is a dangerous business. And if you're with me, you're involved in it too. Or not at all. There's no middle ground. You need to commit fully or else...I can't let you know anything. It's for your own sake. And it's the only way."
His tone of steel is duly noted, as is the stubborn twist of his mouth. It sounds so final, so already decided, as if resistance is futile. But where does the commitment to the cause end and the commitment to the man begin? Has he even managed to untangle these notions in his own head?
I prop myself up on my elbow. "This is a big decision. Do I have to decide right now?"
He lets out a heavy sigh. "Well that's the thing. This is my way of telling you I have to go away for a while. I can't delay it. I have to leave as soon as possible."
"You mentioned something about dangerous."
He nods. "I won't lie. It's dangerous, yes."
I grip his fingers in mine. "Then let's talk about it when you're back from wherever you're going."
"Okay, I have to accept that."
"Yes," I say firmly. "You do."
Then he rises form the mattress. "Sorry, I better get freshened up before I call the guys."
After he leaves the room, I stay lying on the mattress, arms behind my head staring at the ceiling. My body feels heavy and my head is a mass of confusion. Egan wants to share his life with me, or at least plan ahead for the future with me in it. That brings a feeling like a warm woolly blanket on a frosty evening. I should have answered that that's what I want too. So, what was stopping me?
And where is he going?
I groan and roll over, reaching for my underwear. One thing is for sure, I'm not staying in his office building. I'm going home.
28
EGAN
MY BITCOIN BILLIONAIRE MEETING has only one point on the agenda, but it's an important one.
"There's no other way to say this than plainly," I tell them. "I want to involve Jess, my partner, in this group."
There's absolute silence.
"Wait. What?" Sean asks. "Why?"
"I can't live like this."
Okay, now I sound weak.
&
nbsp; "Well it's only what you've been asking from us these past five years!" Sean explodes.
"I know, Sean. I know. What can I say? I'm sorry."
But Sean's not ready to back down. "Oh, because your private life is suddenly more important than our organization? Now that we're finally moving onto a project that I organized?"
"That's completely unrelated," I snap back. "I just realized that it was time to open things up a bit."
"Oh, because you've opened her up a bit?"
"Sean," I growl, "I won't let you talk to me like that."
"All right, you alpha dogs," Jack says. "Let's break it up,"
Now Jack sounds like the voice of reason, not me.
I clear my throat. "Look. I know it's not entirely fair what I'm proposing. But things change. And each of you can now review if you want to let one person in. Felix and Jack, your wives, that's clear. I'd prefer it to be a wife or partner, someone you know you can trust long term."
"Sean, I know the Syrian project is your brainchild, but it will be me going there. I have the experience. I'm responsible."
"What?" His green eyes are ablaze.
I was going to break it to him in a gentler way but what the hell.
"Fine," he says, throwing his arms up. "Book your bloody flight then. Make it soon."
"Will do. Meeting over,"
After the call, Paul stays on. Again.
"What now?" I ask him.
"Sean and you," he says with heavy resignation.
"Yeah, well, I got him under control."
"But do you have yourself under control? Syria?"
"I'm going, that's it. If Sean goes and gets himself killed which that hothead is all too likely to do, then on whose head will it be? Not that brother of his. No, it'll be on mine."
"Fine. Do what you gotta do. You always do," he says. Then he clicks off his screen.
I rub my head at the empty screen. Why is everyone so hostile all of a sudden?
I roll up my sleeves and get in contact with the private plane contractors for getting to Syria, negotiating with them a time and a price. It's taking longer than expected and I'm not sure if Jess is even in the building. It's weird to be alone here.
After an hour of hustling and negotiation, my ride is secured for tomorrow at eight. I leave my desk and prowl around the building. Jess is gone. I return to the second-floor kitchen and spot a handwritten note she's left on the counter.
Gone home. Good luck on your travels. Xx Jess.
I fold it in quarter and tuck in in my shirt pocket next to my heart.
29
JESS
HOLY CRAP, THE PLATINUM STAR is so empty without Egan and Natasha. A shell of a place, a ghost office. I've never been completely alone in here and it's giving me the creeps.
I guess he'll be housing a new refugee or dissident here soon.
Egan flew off to his undisclosed location the day before yesterday. "It's just a couple of days," he said on the phone the night before he left. I haven't heard anything since. He did warn me in advance not to expect any communication as he's worried about surveillance.
I'm cleaning the floors from bottom to top today, taking a leisurely pace. I'm in no rush to get back to my own office were Martha is sitting at her computer, job searching. I'll go there after I know she's gone. I don't want another argument right now and that's all we seem to do these days. I still maintain her kids should go for the scholarships and that she should accept Egan's help. She should swallow her pride for the sake of those kids' futures.
It's getting dark by the time I'm clearing the third-floor bathrooms. When I turn on the light, something shiny catches my attention. It's on the furthest sink from the door.
I walk over and peer at it. It's Natasha's gold chain.
How could she have forgotten it there? She always had it on.
Or did she leave it for a reason? Just like the panties. But what's the message this time? She wanted to tell me something before she left. But what? Does she want me to try and find her?
That hollow feeling overcomes me again. The one I get every time I think of that poor girl all alone, wherever she is. I wish I could even just sneak a secret email to her. But that's against the rules. The unwritten, mysterious, infuriating rules.
But just like her, I'm just going to have to wait. When Egan comes home, he'll see why we have to get in contact with her. She was unhappier than she was letting on when she was leaving here.
***
The next day, I get the long-awaited text. Just landed. Can I come to you?
I laugh when I read it. What a question!
I send him a quick reply. I look around my apartment. It's in good, tidy condition as always, but I spruced it up yesterday with some floral arrangements and an extra polish here and there, just in case. I'm humming as I rearrange the orange blossom on the coffee table, and puffing up the dusty pink cushions. My place isn't worth a fraction of his, but it's more chic because of my attention to detail. And I know he likes that.
Then I go up to the bathroom to add some finesse to my hair and makeup. It won't be long before he's mussing it all up again.
Finally, I hear the knock on my front door. I skip toward it with a huge grin on my face. When I open, my grin falters. He looks shattered, his hair is messy, the lines in his face cut deeper around the eyes and mouth.
He practically falls into my arms.
"How was it?" I ask him.
Drawing back, he groans. "Terrible. Complete waste of time and resources. They moved our dissident to yet another location. I reckon they've been tipped off. This is getting harder than I would ever have imagined possible."
"I'm so sorry." I lead him to the living-room where he sinks on the couch. There are traces of red sand on his shoes. So he's been in a desert country.
"Let me make some coffee," I say.
He nods distractedly.
I leave him there and make the coffee and cut some cake into slices. He'll feel better in a while. He won't be able to tell me full details but I can always listen sympathetically to what he can tell me.
He takes the coffee. "Thanks. I don't want to talk about it really," he says, sipping the coffee. "I'd rather talk about you. How has it been here? Did you make up with Martha?"
"No," I say sadly. "I guess she needs more time."
"I'm sorry. Any other news?"
"Nothing startling. But I found Natasha's chain."
"She left it behind?"
"Looks like."
"Not like her to leave that behind."
"Exactly."
"Well, I guess you can hold on to it. Who knows, maybe we'll meet her again one day in the future."
"Actually..." I sit down beside him on the sofa. "I'm not sure she can do without this. It was from Sergei."
He looks at it. "Yeah, I know, and that's a shame."
"I think it's a message from her...that she wanted us to visit her."
"Before she even left?"
"Yes."
"Maybe she's loving it there."
I have considered this possibility, but I know it's highly unlikely. What's more likely is that Natasha was hiding how much she dreaded leaving Egan and me, saw how stressed out Egan was, and wanted to send me a secret signal to come see her when things had calmed down. She only had two hours to react to the news that she was leaving. This was her distress signal.
"Egan, I think we should check out the circumstances she's in."
"It's not going to happen."
"Can't I go? I'm just a nobody. Who would even care?"
"Jess," His eyes flash. "Just forget that you're acquainted with Natasha. It's better all round."
"But—"
"Don't argue with me. No means no, all right?" His voice is hard, unyielding. "Now drop the subject. I've got a lot on my plate."
I shrink back. After a stunned silence, I say, "And you want me to join such an inflexible organization?"
"Come on, Jess, don't be like that."
"Don
't be like that? You're asking me not to be myself. Is that all you can say?"
"And you're asking the impossible. I can't put Natasha at risk just to please you."
"Just to please me? Are you crazy? This isn't about me, it's about that poor girl who's alone and probably scared out of her wits."
Egan rubs his forehead. "You know what? We're not going to solve this tonight. I should go home."
He looks so tired. I'm guessing this conversation would have gone a whole lot differently if he'd just had some sleep. But probably not a whole lot differently. And that's the whole problem.
"Yeah. We'll catch up tomorrow," I say, rising.
"Okay." He rises, too.
But after I close the door, letting him out in the cold, my chest constricts. This time, we didn't make up. I don't even want to make up or compromise on this. I know Natasha has lived through a lot already, and survived, so I guess she can cope with more than her delicate façade would suggest, but this time I'm in a position to alleviate that suffering, so I can't just sit around and do nothing. Would it hurt Egan to start treating her like a real person and not just a project he's completed? His attention is completely taken up with his new project in red sandy country.
The worst thing? I've no friend to turn to...again because of Egan. Is there a pattern here that I'm just not seeing?
I flop down on my sofa with my microwave noodles and look at my phone. Should I? Shouldn't I? I sigh and press the button.
I let it ring fifteen times but Martha doesn't pick up.
30
EGAN
I GET THE CALL AT 4 A.M. two days after I return from Syria. I'm groggy as hell, so it takes me a full minute to recognize the male voice with the accent. But when I do, I bolt upright. "What is it, Mr. Kline?"
"Our guest...she is gone."
The blood drains from my face and every other part of me. "What do you mean? How the hell can she be gone?"
