Crowning Glory

Helen was late for her morning meeting. 8am London traffic wasn't any help. As her town car pulled up to the Royal Courts of Justice and the driver opened the door, she stepped her beautiful Louboutin's out one at a time. Walking up to the building she told herself to embody Meryl Streep in the 'The Devil Wears Prada' in order to keep her calm. Who knew what awaited her on the other side of those doors?

The last 48 hours had been an absolute whirlwind. A phone call from a blocked number one Wednesday morning left her extremely anxious. All the person on the other line had said was 'Be at the south entrance of the Westminister Bridge at 2pm'. And then hung up. It was a very obvious computerized voice. How odd, Helen thought. Surely she wasn't thinking of going. This was a stranger. She could not go frolicking and searching for danger, who knew what awaited her. She decided to think of the call as a childish prank and continue on with her day.

At 10 am her doorbell rang. Already a little jumpy, Helen dropped her cup of tea. She held her heart as it started racing. Quickly throwing a towel on the spilled tea, Helen ran to the door and looked through the peep hole to find no one. She slowly opened the door, warily. A small brown package was on the mat. Helen looked around on the street. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She shrugged and picked up the small package. It was too small to be anything immediately dangerous. Surely this had to be a friend of hers playing a practical joke on her. Helen carefully closed and locked the door and walked back to her kitchen. Observing the package to find a return address without any luck, she carefully removed the brown paper wrapping. A beautifully crafted wooden box held a small note and little jar of strawberry jam.

'What?', Helen said aloud. She was very confused. She unfolded the note and read what it said: '2pm, south entrance Westminister Bridge. Come alone and incognito'. Helen was beginning to this think was a treasure hunt. She loved Strawberry jam, most of her friends knew that. Her birthday was coming up... Was this crazy? Helen went through a mental tug of war. 'I'll go with a driver... for 5 minutes'. A small smile spread across her face. What an adventure. A seemingly possible life threatening adventure yet an adventure nonetheless. It had been a while since she had any excitement in her life. Helen walked to her bedroom closet, ready to transform into an 'incognito' look.

1:45pm at the south entrance of the Westiminster Bridge, Helen was ready to surprise whomever was playing this little practical joke on her. As she waited in her town car parked right before the bridge began, Helen was on the lookout for a recognizable face. Who could this person be, she thought to herself. It had to be someone close enough to her to know her jam preference. Helen noticed some movement on the bridge. A person dressed in all black stopped on the corner and crouched down to place something on the wall of the bridge. She came ready. As she pulled out her binoculars, a small chuckle escaped. 'How very Bond of me', she said aloud. Helen could not make out the face belonging to the figure. The figure walked away, onto the bridge and in the opposite direction. She placed her binoculars onto the seat, told the driver she'd be right back and walked out of the town car. With a very 50's widowesque headscarf lightly covering her hair, an all black outfit and a large pair of sunnies, Helen walked towards the bridge. As she approached, she noticed a note taped to the inside of the bridge wall where the figure was standing moments ago. She bent down and pulled the note off of the wall. 'Goring and Claridge's, 8pm. Prepare for fish dinner'. Helen looked around, trying to see if the earlier figure was watching her. Nothing. Strange indeed. Was this person asking her for dinner? Helen loved Goring's. This game was becoming more and more intriguing. As she walked back to her town car, she gave one last look around before asking her driver to bring her back home. She had a date to prepare for.

7:50pm right out front of The Goring and Claridge's Hotel. Helen wore a beautiful plum coloured dress, matching strappy heels and a gorgeous Ted Baker handbag. She was ready for her mystery meal. Helen could not help but wonder who had organized this. So far, the mystery person was spot on with some of her favourite foods. What else would they know about her? She stepped out of her town car, instructed her driver she planned to return within 75 minutes and walked into the hotel restaurant's entrance.

'May I help you, madam?', the maitre d'hotel asked Helen. 'Yes, I believe I have a table under Helen for 8pm'. The maitre d'hotel looked at her reservation book, noticed a marking by 8pm and looked up at Helen, a smile spread on her face. 'Yes, of course. Please, follow me'. Both women walked through the hotel to a table by the window. Helen's usual favourite table. A side smile formed on Helen's face as well, feeling heard and appreciated. 'Your entire meal has already been ordered and taken care of. Enjoy and please feel free to request my attention at any time', the maitre d'hotel instructed. 'Thank-you. May I ask who set this whole affair?', Helen asked the maitre d'hotel whom only smiled back. 'It has been instructed to me by my superiors, madam. I know nothing more than you at this very moment. I do know that every item selected has been done so very carefully and is nothing but the most exquisite'. Helen nodded, a little disappointed. She expected another person to join her, or a little indication as to whom was surprising her like this.

A beautiful drink was set infront of her. 'Vodka gimlet, straight up, madam', the waiter instructed Helen. She thanked the waiter and stared at her cocktail. Who could this person be? She or he knew her favourite drink as well? What an interesting night it would be! After a few minutes and a few sips of her perfectly made gimlet, another item arrived. A lovely individual serving of perishky was placed in front of Helen. She released a small gasp of excitement. 'I was not aware you made perishky here?', Helen asked the waiter. 'It was made special on order for your graciousness', the waiter explained. A lift of the fork and Helen dug in. Delicious. Just as her mother used to make it. Suddenly the thought of whom was organizing this evening slipped Helen's mind and she enjoyed being pampered. Not to mention being referred to as 'her graciousness'. A lovely fish dinner followed. Everything was impeccable. As Helen was preparing herself for dessert, a beautiful arrangement of different chocolate confections, pastries and fruits was place onto her table. A large smile spread across her face. Chocolate. Her favourite. As Helen took a bite of a mini chocolate croissant, little did she know the same figure from the bridge was reporting back to his superior from across the street, letting her know that Helen was indulging in every little part of the surprise evening.

As Helen picked up her bag and started walking back towards the exit of the restaurant, the maitre d'hotel stopped her quickly. 'Madam, I have something for you', she said as she stuck out a note. Helen nodded, thanked the maitre d'hotel, took the note and walked back to her towncar. She read the note: 'Tomorrow, 10am, Westminister Abbey, pew #25'. Another smile spread on Helen's face. She no longer wondered who the mysterious yet thoughtful person organizing this was. She was enjoying herself.

9:55 am, entrance of Westminister Abbey. Helen loved her classic British architecture. She was extremly patriotic though did not express it very often. As she entered the beautiful church for more than the 100th time in her life she saw a figure sitting in the pews. She sat in pew #25, right in front of the figure. 'Madam. You have been selected to be a part of an important endeavour', the figure started to say in a very grainey British voice. A voice she recognized. Could it be? Was that... Sean Connery? Impossible. 'What is this endeavour?', Helen asked, her head turned towards the back without looking at the figure. 'Your questions will all be answered tomorrow at 8am', the figure retorted. 'May I ask, who -', Helen began before being cut off. 'No, you may not. Please think very clearly before you make a decision. If you refuse, there may be consequences. Proceeding requires the utmost discretion. My employer did not want to risk any person finding the final meeting place, which is why she sent me personally. 8am, tomorrow, Royal Courts of Justice in London', the figure responded right before disappearing out the entrance. He surely moved like James Bond, Helen thought to herself. What was this secretive endeavour the mystery person was talking about? Why the fantastic dinner yesterday and such a cryptic answer today?

As Helen walked out of the Abbey she realized she had already decided she would go tomorrow. She had made it this far, hadn't she? Surely her safety could not be at risk. What was the harm? It may be wise to avoid these consequences the figure had spoken of as well. Helen walked back to her town car and drove off, craving a chocolate croissant.

Next morning, 8:05am. Helen entered the Royal Courts of Justice and was escorted to a judge's chambers. Palms a little sweaty, she sat down, waiting impatiently. The large leather chair on the other side of the desk turned and revealed the most surprising of all possible people. Helen's eyes widened. As her mouth dropped, no sound escaped. 'Well surely you recognize me, Helen', the person said. 'I do, your majesty', Helen answered as she bowed to the Queen of England. 'I suppose I am not who you were expecting', the Queen said. 'Bugger, no. Please forgive my cursing', Helen replied, clearly flabbergasted. 'Forgiven. Now, I have a very important and sensitive subject to discuss with you', the Queen said. Helen only nodded. 'You know we all hate discussing finances of course, we're British. Though we have a very delightful proposal for you of a new form of currency. Before I go any further, let me show you whom else is involved', the Queen stood as she finished speaking and gestured for Helen to follow. 'Your majesty, why the dinner yesterday if it has nothing to do with today's meeting?', Helened asked the Queen. The Queen turned towards Helen, 'Why, I wanted to ensure you felt comfortable. And of course, your birthday is coming up. Two birds, one stone'. The Queen opened a door in the chambers and stepped through to a meeting room. If Helen was shocked before there was no word for this feeling now pulsing through her. Sat at the meeting table was Hugh Grant, Stephen Hawking, Paul McCartney, Richard Branson, Judy Dench, Emma Thompson, Michael Cain and many other famous Brits. 'What is this?', Helen asked as she walked to an empty seat, next to the Queen who sat at the head of the table. 'It seems I have a few things to well... take care of', Hugh Grant said to no one in particular. The room laughed lightely. The Queen cleared her throat and the room went silent. 'We are the Satoshi Nakamoto and we're here to speak to you about something we call Bitcoin'.