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Zeph slid back quickly into academic life. There was little he didn’t enjoy in the subjects he was studying. The more complex the problem, the more focused he became. He made sure there was no time to think of stuff other than work.

He didn’t care that his social life was a disaster.

He’d been asked out a couple of times and made excuses.

He hadn’t joined any clubs until he’d been pushed to do so by Professor Mark Tysdale, his computer studies lecturer and supervisor.

The club was called We’re not Hackers , though that was exactly what they were.

Professor Tysdale asked him to report back on the group.

Zeph hadn’t wanted to at first, but he’d been persuaded. Being a spy made him uncomfortable.

Sometimes he managed days without thinking about Jack.

Other times he made excuses for him.

He’d left Zeph in France because his cover was about to be blown and he’d had to go to Thomas. Better for Zeph not to know.

He’d left Zeph because Thomas was in danger.

He’d meant to come back but something had stopped him.

Zeph had many theories.

Whenever life seemed to be approaching normal, he’d see something or remember some little thing that pushed him off track.

The only way to keep going, to get over this was to harden his heart, not ever think about Jack, to concentrate on what he was learning and strive to do the best he could, be the best he could.

That was the plan.

People stopped asking him to join them for coffee.

He didn’t go to the pub, never went to parties, didn’t eat in Formal Hall.

He worked, he played the college piano until his fingers ached, he wrote horrible, whiney poems and songs about loneliness, wallowing in self-pity, and deep down, he knew he was still waiting.

It sometimes enraged him. Not just anger at Jack— who could have at least fucking called—but at himself. But he couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t happy.

He just kept breathing.

Half-way through the Michaelmas term, he was called to see Professor Tysdale.

An appointment at seven in the evening was unusual.

Zeph assumed he wanted details of what the hacking club had been up to.

Not much: trying to find software vulnerabilities in a travel company, looking for holes in encrypted chat systems, reading their girlfriends’ messages, trying to get into a nuclear plant’s HR records. Zeph had ensured they failed at that.

When he knocked on the door of the professor’s room, a stranger was waiting.

“Sorry,” Zeph said to the dark-haired man, and started to back out.

“It’s me you’re here to see. Close the door, please. Take a seat.”

Zeph hesitated, then did as he was told.

“My name’s Adam Penshurst. Mark tells me you’ve been working with the We’re not Hackers group.”

Oh shit. Was he in trouble? Were the others in trouble? Had he missed something? Zeph nodded. He’d quietly persuaded some members of the group from going too far, though most of them were digging into sites for fun, to show they could, not to cause problems.

“And last February you took part in a major hacking competition. And won the team prize.”

“We did.”

“Which is easier? Attacking or defending?”

Zeph shrugged. “It depends. Attacking might seem more difficult because there’s no foolproof method of finding a vulnerability, but in some ways it’s actually easier.

If you’re defending, it’s crucial to keep every aspect safe at all times.

You have to have eyes everywhere. But if you’re attacking, all you need to uncover is the one weak point and then you’re in.

Though there’s also the possibility of your attack being reverse-engineered and used against you.

You have to be good at everything. Attacking and defending. ”

“Are you good at everything?”

“I want to be.” What’s this about?

“How do you feel about working in a team?”

Was this a job interview? “I like working on my own but the hacking competition was fun. I enjoyed the challenge of having to collaborate with people I didn’t know, under time pressure and in a stressful environment.

My team was great. But sometimes you need a team and sometimes you don’t. Was that on the fence enough?”

Zeph worried he shouldn’t have added that, but Penshurst laughed. “No right or wrong answers.”

“Oh, I think there are. But are you going to offer me a job or arrest me?”

“Subject to security clearance, I want to offer you a job.”

“I’m relieved you’re not arresting me.”

“Not yet.” Penshurst chuckled. “Would you like to work at GCHQ?”

Government Communications headquarters in Cheltenham was exactly where Zeph wanted to work.

“You know what we do?” Penshurst asked.

Of course he did. “Work on threats to the country from abroad, analyse communications in order to prevent technological threats and stop hackers.”

“Had you thought about applying for a graduate role?”

“Yes. With you or MI5.”

“You’re not interested in making a lot of money in the private sector?”

“I know they’d pay more…” For a moment Zeph wondered if this guy had been responsible for his student loan being paid off. “Are you about to make me an offer I can’t refuse?”

“I wish we could. You’d earn substantially more not working for the government but I hope you’ll think about how much we need bright people like you.

We work closely with MI5. I believe you’d prefer us but you may get seconded to MI5, even MI6 for periods of time.

You’d be helping keep your country safe. ”

Zeph swallowed hard.

“I understand you’re doing your thesis on facial recognition.”

“Specifically on developing a framework for evaluating the bias and accuracy of facial recognition and body composition algorithms used in medical and commercial applications. I think there’s a way to improve the speed and accuracy of identifying individuals within large crowds and with masses of data from cameras. The ethics of it are another thing.”

“Mark is impressed. I’d have you working for us right now if you didn’t need to get your degree first.”

Zeph felt his cheeks heat.

“Assuming you pass the security checks, I’ll be sending you a formal offer. You can only talk about this with your partner or a close family member, providing they’re British. Not with fellow students or friends. You’ll need to sign the Official Secrets Act.”

“I understand.”

“Just one thing. How did you manage to pay off your student debt?”

He’d saved that question and it answered one of Zeph’s. “An anonymous donor. I asked the loans company but they wouldn’t tell me. Do you know who it was?”

“They wouldn’t tell us either. We followed the trail and it led us in circles.”

“Oh.”

“Any guesses?”

“If you weren’t able to find out then no.

” Distract. “I thought for a while it was my father. But he’s not had anything to do with me since I was sixteen.

It could have been money my mother left me.

” He stared straight at Penshurst. No way would he mention Jack.

“I did think about refusing it, but… You think it might come back to bite me?”

“If it did, you’d have to immediately tell your supervisor.

It would be unusual for someone to attempt bribery so long before you were working for the government, especially when there’s no certainty you’d take a job with us, but your skill level is high.

If it is pre-emptive blackmail, we’ve not seen it done before. It could be useful to us.”

Oh God.

“And yet, if you weren’t such a brilliant student, we’d probably have passed on you because of it.”

The guy pushed to his feet and held out his hand. Zeph stood and shook it.

“I’m looking forward to seeing your work on facial recognition and body composition algorithms.”

“Thank you.”

Zeph was in a daze when he left the room. He wouldn’t say anything to Martin and Paulo until he had the actual offer. Even then, he’d not be able to tell them much and they couldn’t tell anyone. It would have to be his secret.

Along with Jack.

And along with the blood tests he’d recently had at the hospital. Maybe that was something he should have mentioned to Penshurst, but Zeph hoped there was no need, that nothing was the matter with him.

While almost everyone on Zeph’s staircase was going for Christmas dinner at the college’s last Formal Hall, he was in the kitchen cooking beans on toast. Most students would leave at the end of this week, but Zeph had permission to stay an extra ten days to work in the computer lab.

His laptop wasn’t powerful enough to do what he needed.

He’d signed the acceptance letter for the GCHQ job.

Zeph couldn’t see what security issues his appointment might raise, but it was still a relief.

The salary was at the top end of what graduates were offered there.

Still lower than if he’d got a job with Google or Apple or a big bank but he liked the idea of helping keep the country safe.

He wasn’t brave enough to be a policeman though it was what he’d wanted to do after he’d gone off the idea of being an astronaut or an astronomer.

Last weekend, he’d told Martin and Paulo and their reaction had been more lukewarm than he’d expected.

But when Paulo mentioned the GCHQ employee who’d been found dead inside a zipped bag in his bath, Zeph understood why.

After reassuring them he wasn’t working for MI6 and had no interest in being an operational agent, they’d been happier.

He washed up after his beans on toast and tidied the kitchen.

No one was around now. The whole staircase was quiet.

No rock music blaring from the ground floor from Steve’s room.

No violin from Alex’s. Zeph might be used to being alone, but he was still lonely.

The tightness in his chest told him he needed to do something about that.

Make more effort. Find a friend, even if only to have coffee with.

Commit to a random act of kindness.