“You’ve heard of it?”
She nodded. “It came to my attention a few times. But never your name.”
“I was there a dozen years before retiring out early, divorcing, and moving to Denmark. I own a bookshop in Copenhagen.”
“And yet the CIA calls on you to look after me.”
“A favor for a friend.”
“Koger?”
He nodded.
“Still the master of opaqueness, I see.”
“As are you,” he said. “I noticed you changed the subject instead of explaining the connection among all your career moves.”
“I like to keep you guessing.”
“Considering your life is, literally, in my hands, that’s a stupid move.”
“Yeah, I get that,” she smirked.
He came to the point. “What did you do at the Bank of St. George?”
“I created something utterly unique. Something wonderful. Something the world desperately needed.”
“You going to tell me what that is?”
“Ever heard of blockchain?”
His eidetic brain recalled what he knew on the subject.
An expandable list of data linked together. Each block contained a cryptographic hash of the previous block with a timestamp, along with data. The timestamp proved that the data existed when the block was created. Together the blocks formed a chain, with each additional block reinforcing the ones before it. Blockchains were impervious to modification because, once recorded, the data in any given block could not be altered retroactively without altering all of the subsequent blocks. Which was impossible. Ingenious and quite clever.Immutablewas the term those in the know liked to use.
From what he knew blockchain was invented in 2008 by a person, or group of people, using the pseudonym Satoshi Nakamoto, as part of the creation of the cryptocurrency called bitcoin. But no one knew the identity of Nakamoto. Never been seen or heard byanyone. The name more a legend than a fact. People had speculated as to the identity for over a decade to no avail. Secrets were hard to keep in the cyberworld, but this one had endured.
He told her what he knew.
She smiled. “That memory brain of yours?”
He nodded.
“That’s one trait I wish I’d acquired along the way.”
Her eyes, always a pale shade of violet, had remained unchanged. He recalled them with fondness. He’d hated hurting her, but he hadn’t been able to keep hurting his wife. His actions became a wedge, sharp and clear, a thing of substance, slicing between him and Pam, forcing them apart. And it would be years before the piper of that parade was fully paid.
But paid he was.
With a lot of pain.
Not the least of which had been Suzy Baldwin’s feelings. But he’d just saved her life. Which counted for something.
Right?
“Cotton,” she said to him. “I am Satoshi Nakamoto.”
CHAPTER 14