In the Geneva hub, Tye stared at Coldhardt’s parting note for the hundredth time. A hastily scrawled list of names, addresses and instructions. No words of kindness or farewell. No thanks. Just a plan of action from boss to employees.
Jonah sat beside her at Coldhardt’s computer, his fingers tapping away over the keyboard. For now, it was just the two of them. Motti and Con were keeping Patch company in a Filipino private hospital while he slowly recovered.
It had been four days now, and it seemed that poor Patch’s hands had been the worst damaged by the explosion – Motti found it doubtful he would ever pick locks again. Then again, Tye reflected, miracles had been known to happen. Although Con had rejected all calls to wear a PVC nurse’s outfit, she was letting him fumble with the zips and fasteners on her clothes three times a day – the more he managed to undo, the more he could goggle at. Tye suspected that an incentive like that might see Patch making a full recovery yet.
‘How’re you getting on?’ Tye asked Jonah.
‘Getting there,’ he said distantly, itching the scar on his neck where an astounded Filipino surgeon had removed the transmitter. ‘I just can’t help thinking … All that stuff we learned about Coldhardt and I feel I know less about him now than ever.’ He sighed, his fingers tapping over the keys. ‘We don’t even know his real name.’
‘Or what’s wrong with him,’ Tye agreed moodily. ‘I just hope he’s being well looked after.’
‘He will be.’ Jonah’s reassuring smile shifted into something a little more pointed. ‘Who’d risk messing with such a perfect example of a devious mind? The man’s a genius!’
The chip in the gold ring that had allowed Saitou to hack into Coldhardt’s computer system was, it turned out, a double-edged sword. It was now allowing Jonah a back door into Saitou’s own server. And since all the onlookers in the temple had contributed funds to the enterprise and were expecting to receive a percentage of Coldhardt’s cash assets, Saitou had their financial records on file as well as his own – allowing Jonah to clean out every last member of the consortium and divert the funds into the Talent’s personal bank accounts.
Coldhardt’s orders.
A farewell gift to the ‘children’ who had given him so much? Or simply not wishing Nomen Oblitum to lay claim to three-fifths of his cut and planning to reclaim the funds at a later date?
In a way, she hoped it was both those things.
Thinking of the NO men, she decided to ask Jonah the question on her mind. ‘Do you miss Maya at all?’ she asked falteringly. ‘The Maya you thought you knew, I mean?’
‘Hmm,’ said Jonah, smiling. ‘Wonder what the correct answer here would be.’
‘Seriously though. I mean, you could talk to her about all kinds of techy stuff.’
‘I can talk to you about all kinds of anything.’ He smiled. ‘And besides, I know she was our age, but … she seemed way older. And she had a go at me once for not believing you could hold back aging.’
Tye frowned. ‘Coldhardt sourced a picture of her for her college pass, and she was dressed in 1960s stuff with make-up to match. I’d put it down to her trying out the retro look. Now I’m wondering … what if that picture was actually taken in the 1960s?’
Jonah raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean that birthmark of hers might be a rebirthmark? Weird how her NO mates had them too, maybe –’
‘Maybe she was just trying out the retro look,’ said Tye firmly. Then she half smiled. ‘Speaking of retro, what about Coldhardt in that old picture!’
‘You can knock his fashion sense, but not his business sense – as this little project just proved.’ Jonah shut down the computer with a flourish. ‘All done. My last act of thieving.’
‘Oh?’ She shot him a look. ‘Going to become a saint on me now, are you?’
‘Nope,’ he retorted, smiling into her eyes. ‘But when this little diversion of funds is noticed, there’ll be an awful lot of angry people after us.’
‘I get you.’ Tye nodded. ‘Best keep a low profile for a bit.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Jonah’s smile became a grin. ‘Besides, we’ve just become so mega-stonkingly rich we won’t need to steal, beg or borrow anything again … or not for a long while, anyway.’
Tye tutted and shook her head. ‘Clearly you don’t know how quickly I can get through money.’
‘I want to know, though. I mean, I want to find out …’ Jonah blushed slightly, looked away. ‘Now we’re free agents – you and me, Motti, Con, Patch … well. I suppose there’s nothing official to keep us all together, but I thought, you and me … If you wanted to, we could maybe get more official. Hang with the others still, but … be more together.’
‘Huh?’ She frowned. ‘Are you talking in code?’
‘I’m nervous as all hell, throw me a bone here!’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘You know what I mean. So is it cool?’
She tutted and shook her head again. ‘Clearly you also don’t know just when to shut up and kiss me.’
‘I want to know,’ he said again, smiling the crooked smile she knew so well and wanted to see always. She leaned in and they kissed, getting into it.
‘Snogging in the boss’s chair,’ Jonah murmured. ‘What would he say?’
‘Well, I’m the boss now, and you’d better not forget.’ Tye pulled gently away, eyeing the chair and feeling a little funny. ‘I don’t want us to stay here, Jonah … It’s Coldhardt’s place. And now he’s not around.’
Jonah nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then … I suppose we’ll have to find our own place.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Just like that?’
‘Life’s still short, whatever people like Maya may say.’ Jonah jumped up from the chair and ran to the lift. ‘What are we waiting for?’
Tye lingered for a few moments, looking around the hub. The cluster of blank TV screens was like a dark eye watching her. The rush of the air con was like a long, unending breath. This place would live on without them. Waiting.
She turned out the lights, and the lift sighed as it bore them upwards.
A few minutes later Jonah led the way across the grounds to where Tye’s BMW was parked outside the stables. The car aside, they were leaving all their old belongings and starting again. Only their smokestones were coming with them. Theirs, and Motti’s, Con’s and Patch’s.
Their world may have cracked apart, but family didn’t break so easily.
Jonah felt a buzz in his back pocket. ‘Hang on,’ he told Tye, and pulled out his mobile. A text had just arrived from the other side of the world. ‘It’s Con.’
The message was typically succinct: You have all the money, yes?
He smiled and texted her back: We won
As he hit the send key, Tye took his hand, ready to set off again. But Jonah lingered for a moment, taking in the shadowy grounds of the place he’d called home, filing it all to memory: the sheen of the moonlight on wet slates, the outbuildings like neat stone packages tied up with ivy, the dark, silent pattern of the paths and hedgerows. In the distance, the uncertain boundaries of fields and hillsides, fixed beneath the stars in the wide-open night.
Then Jonah felt his phone buzz again. This time it was a picture message – Motti and Con sitting either side of Patch’s hospital bed with goofy smiles and two huge bottles of champagne, while Patch himself was giving a bandaged thumbs-up.
We’ll keep some on ice for you, read the accompanying message. Come on home.
‘Home,’ Tye murmured, as they walked over to the BMW. ‘Wherever that is.’
‘Finding out could be fun,’ said Jonah. ‘Don’t you think?’
Tye squeezed Jonah’s hand. The two of them kissed, got into the car and drove away into a new morning.