Page 135 of Everything That Kills Me
He wanted to stop working, but he couldn’t do that either.
If he stopped swimming, he’d drown.
Thirty-Three
Zeph had no idea if he’d done well enough to get a first class degree. He’d spent so many days feeling too ill to do anything, even sleep and he’d not studied as hard as he would have done if he’d been well. Maybe he ought to have left when his cancer had been diagnosed and repeated the year.
When he logged onto CamSIS, the Cambridge student information system, on the day the results were out, his mouth was dry, his pulse racing. He ran his eyes down the list, found his name, looked across to the result and moaned. Then checked again.Oh God, I did it. I did it!
He phoned Martin who answered so fast, Zeph laughed.
“You did it,” Martin said.
“Yes.”
“A First?”
“Yes.”
Martin started to cry and Paulo said, “Zeph, that is wonderful. Martin is in pieces. Congratulations!! You going out to celebrate?”
“Hopefully.”
“Have fun. Brilliant news! Well done, you clever boy!”
Zeph was the only one in the house who’d got a First, but everyone was celebrating. He let himself get dragged along in a pub crawl, though he didn’t get drunk. He went home early… hoping.
There was no message from Jack on his phone.
Thirty-Four
Jack couldn’t let Zeph see him. He wasn’t supposed to be in the UK, let alone anywhere near Zeph but some things he couldn’t miss. He was in disguise, his dirty-blond hair dyed dark brown, sunglasses in place, wearing a sharp suit and a student gown. He blended in fine.
There were enough people that he was able to watch Zeph walking with the others from Downing College to the Senate House for the degree ceremony. Zeph was limping slightly. Jack felt guilty he’d not been there to support him through his treatment. He’d found out more than he should have done by illegally accessing Zeph’s medical records but he missed him, missed being with him, listening to him, hearing him laugh, making him laugh, touching him, being touched by him. Knowing what Zeph was doing, how he was doing, wasn’t enough. But it had to be enough. Any contact with him put Zeph in danger.
Thomas would be furious if he knew Jack was even thinking about Zeph anymore. Sometimes, Zeph was all Jack could think about. He’d made every one of Jack’s nerve endings come alive. When Jack was young, he’d been shown little affection. Thomas had looked after him, but had never hugged him or cuddled him. Praise had been a pat on the back or the squeeze of a shoulder. Jack had grown out of thinking he needed affection. He’d never been bothered by his lack of attraction to anyone, female or male, and then he’d met Zeph. Zeph had shown him what life could be like, what happiness was. That time in France had opened his eyes to another world.
But now Jack wasn’t happy. Thomas, and because Jack was involved with him it involved Jack too, had been forced into contract work for the CIA, though on the plus side, the Americans had dealt with the Iranian issue. Even so, Thomashad only agreed to work for the CIA to save Jack when a job had gone wrong, but part of Jack wished he’d let him die. Where once he’d dreamed of another life, that dream had gone.
He watched until Zeph entered the Senate House, then went to the house where Zeph lived, broke in and left something in Zeph’s bed. An inflatable shark.
Jack wouldn’t stop swimming because that was the only way he could survive. Nor would he give up hope of a different future.
Two Years Later
Thirty-Five
Zeph rolled his chair back from the bank of screens on his desk and rubbed his eyes. He was tired. Too much time spent staring at a computer, though it wasn’t as if there was an option. Staying ahead of the opposition was critical, and by opposition he meant not just the invasive activities of other countries or divisive elements in this country, but also colleagues who’d turned out to be more cutthroat than Zeph had anticipated.
So much for team work. Too many were desperate for recognition and promotion and they didn’t care who they stepped on or elbowed out of the way to get it. Zeph had been tricked a couple of times, not been given the credit he deserved, and he’d learned his lesson.
He’d worked for GCHQ since he’d left Cambridge, been seconded for a time to MI6 and was currently in the MI5 building, Thames House. Really, the work he was doing was for both agencies. They did share intel when they weren’t bickering.
Zeph lived in Greenwich. He’d thought being in the town he’d enjoyed when his mum had been alive would be comforting, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t buy anywhere, even if he’d had the money and sufficient income to support a mortgage, because he was moved around so much. It was difficult enough when rental places wanted tenants to sign for a year, though the HR department sorted out any issue over breaking of contracts when he’d been seconded. Zeph assumed there was always someone at GCHQ that needed a place to stay in Cheltenham that could take over his lease. He’d tried to make his flat feel like a home, but he really wanted his own place where he could paint the walls, hang pictures, and put in a new kitchen and bathroom.
One thing he always took with him was his shark. Not that he needed the reminder but it was a little like having Jack at hisside. If he’d been allowed to use social media, he’d have posted pictures of himself with Sharkie. Instead, he’d made a little photo book of selfies. He liked that he was the only one who got it. Martin and Paulo thought he was nuts. Zeph and Sharkie up a mountain. Zeph and Sharkie paddle-boarding. Zeph and Sharkie in the bath. Zeph and Sharkie eating sushi. Good thing the shark wasn’t life-sized.
Zeph stretched, circling his arms and rotating his neck a few times before he rolled his chair forwards again. He was using new facial recognition software along with body composition algorithms, designed by him, to look for a man from Saudi. Khaled Al-Talib was on a terrorist watchlist, not because he was an active terrorist but because he gave money to them. Once Al-Talib was spotted, it was a matter of going back over CCTV to see where he’d been, as well as checking where he was going. Zeph had no idea what the guy was up to in London. That was outside his remit. All he had to do was find him.
