The results came back in fifteen minutes. The professor turned seriously to the Brit and told him they were primes; the Brit sniffed like a steam engine. I thought it was the perfect time to remind them that they had promised to pay me on delivery. But the Brit exploded: "You ask to be paid–"

The professor interrupted him, putting his hand on the Brit's chest. "A deal is a deal. But before we proceed to the settlement, we would like to have... a friendly chat."

His tone turned oily. "We are very impressed with your capacity to produce nontrivial prime numbers of such an order of magnitude. Presumably you have a new method that we've missed. If you are interested in money, we are ready to pay your price to never have to buy the primes from you again. So what about, let's say... an exclusive operating license for your methodology? A renewable one?"

Well, if I told them it was the imbecile that gave us the numbers, they'd get their mitts on her. So they could shove their license up their ass.

I repeated my request for a cash payment, and the professor handed me a thick wad of notes, so fresh and warm I assumed they'd just been newly printed. One thousand notes of $100 each: I'd never held anything like that before.

I enquired how much they'd pay me to know about my method. The professor was about to speak, but the Brit got there first: "Money, again? You've delivered two primes of 300 digits in two weeks, and you come here like an idiot just to beg for a lousy stash? Are you an imbecile?"

I said, quite relaxed, that I thought he was an eccentric carrot-top. "Yes? Well I think you're an imbecile!" He pointed his finger at me and smiled with his shiny British teeth. "Look, since you're such an imbecile, I'll try to use a metaphor that even an idiot can understand.

"Imagine we've sprinters who run the 100 meters in less than 10 seconds. One day, Prime Numbers, Inc. comes along and covers the distance in less than 10 seconds, just like everyone else. But since we like to haze newcomers, we ask them to run the distance in under 9 seconds. And those bastards do it! Dammit, they're faster than Usain Bolt! So, we decide to piss them off and ask them, casually, to run 100 meters in half the time – 5 seconds."

I started to feel a little uncomfortable. The Brit enjoyed this, and pinned me with his bulbous eyes. He went on: "And they do it. They run 100 meters in 5 seconds! So what do we do? We ask them to do it in 2 seconds, just to see. And since even that is too easy, we ask them to run the entire track instead!"

He paused, frowning. "And they do it. With a couple of fucking Playstations! They deliver it to us with a smile. And we feel like crap, because if a brain-dead imbecile like you can do this, and we can't, then you've got the ability to take the world by the balls! You could drain any account of your choice in Switzerland, retire to Barbados and bask in the sun! But is that what you do? Is it fuck! You come here begging for a miserable hundred thousand!

"Those numbers... you obtain them via some new method. But how?"

My mind was reeling. I thought about what had motivated me to start the business, so I told them with a smile of disgust: "It pisses you off that I have a goose that lays golden eggs, and you want the goose instead of the eggs. How many millions can you offer for my little goose?"

The Brit went ballistic. He flipped the desk, smashed the professor's laptop against the wall, but didn't touch me. I looked like an idiot sitting on the chair without a desk in front of me. I wondered if Viking blood ran through his family tree.

He pointed his finger at me again, his eyes wild: "You're fucking stupid! I run MI1, okay? The most efficient cryptanalysis service in the world! We cracked Enigma – Turing worked for us! We built the first computers! My mission here, and my investigation against you, has cost millions! Millions! You've brought down my best experts. And you come here for... a fucking hundred thousand? No! Don't say anything. Stop talking about money, you fucking imbecile!

"Your existence puts the world in danger, understand? There are countries that would have put you to torture ten times already to loosen your tongue! We're watching you, all right?

"But... I've an agreement with your hosts here, that we let you go this time. We'll let you think it over quietly at home.

"In a few days you'll return here – no need to make an appointment, the doors will be open wide. You're going to tell us everything. And don't be afraid of telling us everything. If you found the numbers in a Nostradamus verse, tell us which one. If little green men come from Mars to tell you them, that's not a problem. If God came to you in a dream and whispered them to you, we'll take it. As long as it is verifiable, we're open-minded. And if you want money, you'll have lots of money.

"But in my view, honestly – you don't deserve a single penny, because what you're selling is priceless!"