"Boyfriends and girlfriends are gonna come and go, but this is for life."—Phoebe Buffay, Friends
“What are you thinking, Matt?”
We’re on the Tube back from Euston to Canning Town. Mirella and Sayak have already gone back.
Matt stares at the floor, thoughtful. “Just… doesn’t it feel odd to you?”
“What? That Arthur got the decrypted text and just left it there? No follow-up, no digging deeper?”
He gives a small smile. “Exactly. Feels a bit strange. But then again… maybe for him it was just curiosity. A puzzle. He got his answer, that’s it.”
“Curiosity doesn’t exist in a vacuum, Matt. There are always hidden motives. Agendas.”
He chuckles. “Suspicion—that’s my job. And your hobby.”
“So, what now?”
“We need to know what was on the SS Minden.”
“And how exactly do you plan to find out? Got a source inside the Kriegsmarine?”
“No. But MI6 did.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the people who intercepted her must’ve had intelligence. Someone knew why that ship mattered.”
“But not in public archives. Mirella didn’t find anything.”
“Which leaves only one possibility—someone with classified access.”
“You’re not suggesting… Neil?”
“Well, why not?”
My stomach knots. We haven’t involved Neil in this case at all. Not me, not Matt, not even Mirella. It started as a harmless project—decoding an old Enigma message, just out of curiosity. Something Neil wasn’t needed for.
But now? Now it feels like there’s something darker, buried far deeper. If we really need his help to get to the truth—would it be so wrong for Matt or Mirella to reach out? Neil has no feelings for me. I learned that in the harshest way possible. But to be brutally honest, he never lied, or cheated on me. He never promised anything. We three—the trio—we’ve always worked well together. And I can’t destroy that out of wounded pride alone.
“Matt,” I say quietly, “if you think Neil could help… you can bring him in. I don’t have a problem with that.”
Matt studies me for a moment, then nods. “Alright. I’ll think about it. But first—your swimming test tomorrow. You ready?”
“If I say no, will you cancel it?”
He laughs. “Two hundred metres, Sri. That’s all. You can do it. What’s the problem?”
“I can, but it’s exhausting. Flailing, swallowing half the pool… I’ll never glide like you.”
“Effortless takes years. This is just a basic certification. Pass this, then if you want you can learn more—diving, snorkelling, just enjoying the water.”
“Diving? I can barely touch the pool floor without my ears exploding.”
“Diving suit solves that.”
“In this pool?”
“Or the mid-Atlantic. Titanic wreck, if you prefer.”
“Why stop there? Mariana Trench?”
“Sure. Only problem—no sub can survive the pressure. But hey—‘The Great Srija Ray’ can do anything.” He says it with mock gravity.
I laugh. “Wait, am I supposed to swim down and bring up the Minden myself?”
“Exactly. Raise a sunken Nazi freighter with your bare hands—or you’re no detective at all.” He shakes his head. “And here I was, just asking you to swim a pitiful 200 metres.”
“Don’t sulk, Matt. I have good news—you’ll be pleased.”
“Oh?”
“Mike Proctor invited me to Cambridge. To give a talk.”
His face lights up. “That’s fantastic, Sri. Then forget this detective nonsense for a bit—focus on your research.”
“I will. But Caltech is still my first choice.”
“I know. But if you get both offers, you can take your time and decide. That’s a nice problem to have.”
“Whichever is better for my career—”
“—Sri…” He leans closer. “If Neil had said the right things that night, if you two were together… would you still leave for Caltech? Would you still walk away from the UK?”
I don’t answer. I used to ask myself the same question, before that night in the tavern. I never found an answer. Now I tell myself there’s nothing holding me back. But is that true? Boyfriends are replaceable. Friends like Matt… aren’t.
“You’re lost in thought,” he says gently. “Forget the what-ifs. Focus on Cambridge. I’ll reach out to Neil when the time’s right.”
But Matt doesn’t get the chance. That very night, long before he could, a message drops into our group Signal chat. A ghost from the past.

Neil: “Hi 👋”
Matt replies instantly: “Hey Neil! How are you? 😊”
Neil: “I’m fine. You guys?”
Matt: “All good. Back at work yet? 💼”
Neil: “Not for another month. Listen—I heard something from Suparna, so I checked with Mirela. You decrypted a Nazi cipher text, didn’t you? 🕵️‍♂️”
Matt: “Yes. Your stepmum was a huge help. 🙏”
Neil: “I know. Supe’s a gem. But why didn’t you tell me? 🙁”
Well, this is awkward! But Matt types quickly:
“We thought you were away, didn’t want to disturb you. Honestly didn’t even know you were back from Glasgow. 🤔”
Again, that’s not true. We both knew he was in London. Mirella told us. I saw him twice myself. But he never reached out either.
Then Neil adds: “Sri saw me. First at her aunt’s house. Then at Wood Green Station.”
My throat tightens.
Matt: “Really? 🥹”
Neil: “Yes. Both times she missed me by minutes. Mirella too—ran into me at a nightclub—”
I cut in: “Yes, Neil. Mirela said she met you there—with your girlfriend. Samantha, right? How’s she?”
Neil: “She’s fine. Listen—”
I push further. “Won’t you introduce us sometime? 😊”
Matt shoots me a look, sharp and warning. Don’t.
But I can’t stop. “Is she with you now? You could video call. 📺”
Matt mouths the words silently: Don’t do this, Sri.
Neil ignores my jab. “Listen, the reason I reached out—the Minden. Do you know what she carried? Why she was scuttled? 🧐”
Matt: “No. We didn’t find anything in the archives. 😕”
Neil: “You won’t. It’s classified 🤐. I know because I once worked on related files.”
Matt: “So what was on board, Neil? 🛳️”
Neil: “The Minden was coming from South America. She was carrying funds from banks there—to bankroll Hitler’s war. Because no European banks would lend to him anymore.”
Matt: “So—cash? 💰 That’s why she was sunk?”
Neil: “Not cash. Gold. Bullion. 🌟”
We both freeze. A ship full of gold!
Matt: “How much gold, Neil?”
Neil: “Estimated over a hundred million dollars’ worth.”
Matt swears. “Holy shit. 😱 That’s a fortune! No wonder Hitler ordered the scuttling himself. Better sunk than in enemy hands.”
Neil: “Exactly. No one else had the authority to give such an order. It had to be the Führer himself.”
My pulse hammers. A hundred million dollars in Nazi gold—still lying at the bottom of the Atlantic!
Neil continues typing. “If word got out, every amateur treasure hunter would be out there. 🏴‍☠️ That’s why it’s buried in classified files.”
Matt: “Where exactly did she sink? 🚢”
Neil: “Off Iceland’s southern coast. But no coordinates.”
Matt and I exchange a long look. This isn’t a crossword puzzle anymore. What seems like a harmless piece of rope turns out to be a king cobra uncoiling.
Neil: “Anyway—I thought this info might help.”
Matt: “Thanks, Neil. Honestly, we were about to reach out ourselves. 😬”
Neil: “Really? Or only after Sups and Mirella?”
Matt: “Not just them. Sayak too.”
Neil: “The coder? Sri’s friend?”
Matt: “Yes. Skinny guy but solid.”
Neil: “Yeah, I’ve seen them laughing together at her aunt’s garden. Right, Sri?”
The nerve! After all he did in Scotland, he has the guts to imply that I’m getting cozy with Sayak. Unbelievable! So, I start typing,
Me: “Yes. He’s good company. Reads, writes poetry. I like him.”
Neil: “Poet and coder. Add some muscle and he’s the full package. 😊”
My temper flares. “Brains matter more than muscles, Neil.”
Neil: “True. But ignore the body and the brain suffers too. Sound mind, sound body. 🙂”
Matt quickly cuts in: “Come over tomorrow night, Neil. Just us three.”
Neil: “Can’t do tomorrow.”
I type fast. “Matt—why just him? He has a girlfriend now. Invite her too.”
Matt shakes his head. “No. This is our trio. No outsiders—Samantha, Sayak,or anyone.”
Neil: “Thank you, Matt. Good night 💤.”
The chat ends.
Matt slams the phone down. “What the hell was that, Sri?”
“What?”
“This was a case. Nazi gold, a scuttled freighter. And you turned it into your personal vendetta. Be serious.”
I flush hot. “Oh, so I’m the only one? Neil just trashed Sayak for no reason. So, what if he’s short? He’s kind, he doesn’t play with people’s feelings. Not everyone needs to be six-foot-two and gym-sculpted.”
Matt’s eyes narrow. “So that fake phone call—you really did it to avoid Neil?”
“Yes. Suparna had invited him over—”
“And he was coming?”
“Yes.”
“So, you ran. Why? Was he going to eat you alive?”
“You were at that tavern, Matt. You know why. I don’t want to see him.”
“Why not? He’s trying to be civil. Move on, Sri.”
“He’s not just being civil. His father, his stepmum—they think we’re together. They’re trying to force us into it. And Neil isn’t correcting them. Maybe he enjoys it. Maybe he’ll lead me on again, let me hope—and then break me again.”
“Why would he do that, Sri?” Matt sounds confused.
“I don’t know Matt, I’m not a mind reader. But that’s the game he always plays—cozies in when I avoid him and puts me in the cold the moment I show a smidgin of interest. Perhaps he is a psycho, a sadist.”
Matt listens to my outbursts silently and then nods his head sideways.
“Then you’re both the same. Neither of you has an ounce of professionalism. And if your soap opera ruins this case, so help me—I’ll cut you both out. I’ll take Mirella and Sayak and finish it without you.”
Matt storms off to his room, the door slamming behind him.