Ethereum

by N C Mander

  Edison sighed and felt a lump come to his throat. The kindness of his father-in-law’s gesture overwhelmed him. The exhaustion that had accumulated welled up inside him, and he sat down. ‘That’s so kind of you to ring.’ His voice cracked as he spoke, ‘How are you and Jane holding up?’

  ‘Oh, you know Jane – she’s ploughing through the flower beds in the garden as I speak.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I miss her every day, today is not different, it just feels a bit more … I don’t know how to say it …’

  ‘Empty,’ Edison offered. ‘It just feels a bit more empty today.’

  ‘Which is crazy, isn’t it? A thing is either empty or not, it’s not relative.’

  ‘Don’t get too philosophical with me, Gauthier.’ Edison tried to make a joke, but neither man laughed.

  ‘I’m glad to hear you’re doing ok,’ Gauthier said. ‘I’ll leave something from you when I visit her today.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Take care, Edison.’

  ‘And you.’ Edison hung up.

  Colin looked at him quizzically, ‘Everything ok?’

  ‘I need to go.’ Edison rushed out of the building, berating himself. How could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten Ellie’s birthday? She would have been thirty-four years old, and Edison would have served her a mimosa in bed as was their birthday tradition. Even in death, he continued to fail her. As he strode out of the building, his head down, he ran into a man coming in the other direction.

  ‘Eddie,’ Charlie cried, ‘I was on my way to see you.’ Edison looked up, and on seeing his friend, collapsed onto his haunches, his head in his hands. Charlie crouched next to him, ‘Oh Eddie, it was always going to be a tough day, and then factor in everything else that’s been going on.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Charlie, even you remembered.’

  ‘Come on,’ Charlie hauled his friend to his feet. ‘You’re exhausted. Is it any wonder you lost track of the dates? I think,’ he went on as they emerged into the daylight, ‘you should come stay with us for a bit. Let’s go get some stuff from your place.’

  Edison allowed himself to be manhandled into a taxi and Charlie gave the address in Bethnal Green to the driver.

  *

  1126, Monday, 10th July, Nelson Gardens, Bethnal Green, London

  As the cab made its way to East London, Edison collected himself. His past tangled with present as memories of Ellie criss-crossed with thoughts of Hughes. He screwed up his eyes and tried to think clearly. Manipulating all the information and half-truths he had available to him, he tried to create a coherent hypothesis about Hughes’ involvement in the complex picture. As they inched down the Whitechapel Road, he turned to his best friend and took a deep breath. ‘Hear me out on this,’ he began, ‘I’m pretty sure Hughes was involved in HAPSBURG in some way. But he didn’t know it.’

  Charlie attempted to interject, but Edison raised his hand and went on, ‘Just listen to what I’ve got to say, and then you can tell me I’m crazy or deluded or just so hung up on the past that I can’t think straight.’

  Charlie nodded his head, ‘Ok, try me.’

  Edison recounted the conversation in Hughes’ study with near word-perfect recollection. ‘I think that Anna was a pawn in all of this. She was seduced by Yousuf, who was after her connections at the bank and also with Hughes.’

  ‘Why Hughes?’

  ‘Because he’d already got an import line and distribution network for the drugs that Yousuf was bringing in. Anna seduced Hughes. I think he had designs on running away with her, you know, all financed by their ill-gotten gains. She may well have seduced other investors in the crypto fund too but that’s by the by. What mattered was Hughes’ connection to the drug-runners. He may not have been aware that she was involved with a bigger plot – everyone’s protestations that he is a noble patriot being, depending on your definition, accurate. I know him. When I suggested links to terrorists, he was genuinely shocked. That wasn’t bravado. But he’s evidently still very active on the black markets. It makes me so angry that he wriggled out of all this the first time.’

  The cloud that had been hanging over Charlie’s features lifted, and Edison felt a wave of relief wash over him. His friend believed him. Charlie opened his mouth to respond just as they arrived at their destination, and whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the formalities of settling the taxi bill.

  The two men were welcomed by a picture of urban domesticity – a woman pushing a buggy, two teenagers kicking a football against a wall and further down the road a transit van unloaded as new rental tenants moved into their flat. They crossed the road. Edison’s attention was drawn to a figure dressed in black, with a hood pulled over his head, emerging from the bottom of the staircase that led to a dozen apartments, including the flat Edison shared with Tony. The man’s gaze met Edison’s, but he looked away almost instantly. In that moment, a bolt of recognition passed across Edison’s mind. He had handed that man a mobile telephone in the pub in Clapham. He thought he recognised the loping gait of the same man at Billingsgate. Was it possible that this was the same man? On instinct, Edison reached out to grasp the hooded man’s arm, but he skipped forward and ran. Edison started as if to make chase but thought better of it – he was in no position to apprehend the man on half-supposed coincidences and possible recognition. He shivered as he watched the figure retreating. A gold chain glinting on his left wrist.

  ‘What was that about?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I think I’ve seen that man one too many times in the last few weeks for it to be a coincidence.’

  They both looked up the flat. A sixth sense, honed over many years, was tingling in both of them, and they rushed up the stairs, a smell of gas growing stronger as they reached the front door.

  ‘Shit,’ said Edison, as he fumbled with his keys, a sense of trepidation at what he would find on the other side filling him. Charlie was already dialling 999 when Edison opened the door and rushed into the kitchen. Tony’s body lay on the floor by the oven. Edison pulled him away. He turned off the gas.

  Edison dashed to open the window before turning his attention back to Tony’s limp and lifeless body. He felt for a pulse. He already knew he wouldn’t find one.

  Charlie took a piece of kitchen towel and picked up an envelope that was propped on the sideboard. He extracted a piece of paper on which was typed a very short note.

  ‘Fuck,’ Edison cried, sitting back against the kitchen cabinets. ‘Those poor kids.’

  Charlie disappeared into Tony’s room. Edison followed. On one of the computer screens, there was a document open. ‘That’s the note,’ said Charlie.

  Edison scanned the other screen. A few keystrokes and he pulled up a web-browser. Charlie whistled.

  On the screen was the last message Tony had written, via a Dark Web messaging service, Hughes, Tell me what’s going on?

  Edison was floored. ‘He’s been watching me!’

  ‘Who has? Tony?’

  ‘Hughes has. Using Tony. And that bloke we just passed on the stairs. He’s one of Hughes’ fixers, I’ll bet.’

  ‘Edison,’ Charlie said, the urgency in his voice couldn’t be ignored, ‘can you get rid of that?’

  ‘Yes, but why? It’s useful evidence.’

  ‘Screenshot it, but we should make it disappear before it slides into official channels. Everything you’ve told me, everything makes sense. But it’s not going to be easy to prove. And we certainly haven’t got enough evidence at this stage to connect Hughes to the drugs let alone HAPSBURG. If you go in with what you have at the moment, they’ll laugh at you and probably rescind your security clearance.’ Edison tried to object, but he knew his friend spoke the truth. ‘Your credibility is still rather fragile.’ Edison nodded. ‘Also, you know he’s got friends everywhere.’ Charlie’s meaning was implicit.

  ‘So, what do I do?’

  ‘We,’ Charlie stressed the collective noun, ‘wait. We watch. We find out who th
at man was. We work out exactly what Hughes is up to. But we do this quietly. He cannot know. No one can know. We’ll bring him down properly this time.’

  ‘Ok,’ Edison said as the sound of a siren signalled the arrival of the ambulance. He turned to the computer screen, and with a few keystrokes, the message was gone.

  The two men gave one another a look and went out to meet the paramedics and police officer. The latter began gathering the required forensic evidence for suspected suicides. The formalities over, Edison called Tanya.

  Charlie was starting to pull together Edison’s belongings when his friend hauled himself up the stairs to join him. He let out a long, exhausted breath and collapsed on the bed. ‘Thank you,’ Edison said, looking up at his friend.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For believing me.’

  Charlie stuffed another pair of socks into the holdall and picked up the picture of Eloise on Edison’s bedside table. He sat down next to his best friend of twenty-five years, holding the picture between them. ‘It’s not going to be easy, you know?’ said Charlie, not lifting his gaze from the photograph.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Bringing down Hughes.’

  The End

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  A nerve agent attack.

  A mysterious disappearance of a Cold War spy.

  A race across Europe.

  Scott Edison returns in Matryoshka

  But will Edison and his team track down their double agent before the Russians do? As Edison dashes across Europe to find one of MI6’s most valuable assets, his life starts to unravel in his absence. Soon he must choose between the operation and those he loves.

  Sign-up to N C Mander’s mailing list for sneak previews and news on release dates www.ncmander.com

  Notes from the Author

  What a rollercoaster it has been bringing Scott Edison, Charlie Harrington-Smith, Sir Donald Hughes and the rest of the cast of Ethereum to life.

  I have to thank my husband, Dominic, for his endless love, patience and support. Not only has he dutifully read draft after draft, gasping, laughing and nodding in all the right places, he has endured my endless questions about the viability of my computer programming ideas around which so much of Ethereum is built. I have certainly ended up going with what is plausible rather than accurate when it comes to some of the more technical aspects of the book.

  To Anna-Jean Hughes who helped me wrestle the early drafts into a coherent manuscript and to Miranda Summers-Pritchard – you are never overexplaining nor being too pedantic!

  To my friends and family – it’s here. No longer do you need to ask how the book is going. Rest assured I will regale you of the news of book two in due course.

  About the Author

  N C Mander writes espionage and mystery thrillers. ‘Ethereum’ is her debut novel. The book is the first in a series of espionage thrillers featuring MI5 intelligence officer Scott Edison.

  Like any spy worth their salt, N C Mander uses an alias. When not working undercover as a thriller author, N C Mander is known as Natasha.

  She lives in South London with her husband and draws inspiration daily from the buzzing city she calls home.

  When she isn’t poring over her laptop, Natasha enjoys long distance running, which she likens in discipline, to writing novels.