Mary looked at her watch: 1 PM. Their train was due to leave at 1:35 PM, London to Paris. It was Larry’s idea to meet under the clock at Waterloo Station and take cover in the swirling flow of faces coming and going. They agreed to be discreet, minimal eye contact. They would pass through security, show their passports and tickets, make their way to carriage #3, and take first class seats well away from each other.

She looked at her watch—1:10 PM. He should be here by now. No worry, plenty of time. She was traveling light with a backpack and a shoulder bag.

They had met at a cybersecurity conference two years earlier in Moscow. He had given a keynote address about the future of digital assets and international finance. Larry managed a digital fund for the London office of the sovereign bank of an obscure nation state lurking in the Persian Gulf. She was a legal expert in offshore accounts. Their conversation started at the reception, continued over dinner and wine, and resumed after the burst of passion that left them naked, satiated, and staring at the ceiling.

Larry had discovered a security hole in his bank’s blockchain app that left crypto assets exposed to the outside world for a few milliseconds, just enough time to redirect them to another account. Larry knew how to hack the software. Mary would set up an untraceable account. It was foolproof. To be safe, they would leave the UK for good.

She checked the crypto app on her phone, 1:20 PM. The funds should be arriving soon, and so should Larry. Where is he? Did something go wrong? She scanned the crowd, looking for his face. The security alert unnerved her, but no one else cared.

Her phone vibrated. Must be Larry. It was only a transfer notice. Her account now showed an eight-figure balance.

A voice over the public address system. “The 1:35 service to Paris is now boarding at Platform 10. We apologize for the short delay.”

Should she wait or simply get on the train? They both had tickets; no need to board together. She headed towards the turnstile for Platform 10 as two police officers rushed past her.

“Suspect now approaching the gates,” she heard one officer speaking into the microphone attached to her shoulder harness.

The police headed towards the clock, the spot where Mary had lingered a minute earlier. She saw Larry standing there, terrified as the police encircled him. For a moment, their eyes met, then he looked away. Mary felt her heart racing. Don’t run, keep calm, just go. There’s nothing you can do for him. She took her ticket out of the side pocket of her shoulder bag, scanned it at the gate, and went through. She spotted an au pair with four excited children and walked alongside them. Mary waited as the brood entered the carriage ahead of her. She glanced back. The police and Larry were gone. She was on her own. She took her seat and admired how the au pair calmed the children down.

Mary took out her phone and initiated a chain of transfers from their joint account to her dozen anonymous accounts that she had set up just in case. Would Interpol spot these transfers? As the train pulled away, Mary got up and went to the bathroom. She opened her phone and flushed the SIM card down the toilet. She adjusted her hair in the mirror, her blanched face staring back, her stomach burning, dread looming, her future uncertain.