JEANNIE SAID, “I’VE NEVER TOLD you, Sophie, why I became a cryptanalyst.”
It was one of many things that Jeannie had not revealed about her past. Sophie said, “I thought perhaps it was because you are good at puzzles.”
Jeannie laughed. “Yes, I am, rather. But plenty of people are good at puzzles. Major Bradley noticed that I seemed especially good.”
“Before the war,” explained the major, “we often called on volunteers as cipher-breakers — classical scholars, linguists and so forth — even people who were very good at crossword puzzles. Still do, in fact. And so when I became aware of Mrs. Grenville-Smith’s special abilities, it seemed like a jolly good idea to recruit her.”
Special abilities? When Alex was kidnapped, when they all were in danger, Sophie had witnessed a terrifying display of Jeannie’s power — but what had that to do with puzzle solving?
Seeing Sophie’s confusion, Jeannie said, “Every year our enemies develop more devious and complex codes, and logical deduction can only take us so far. Sometimes in the end those codes only yield to a kind of inspired guess.”
“Can you . . . ?”
“Make that kind of guess? Sometimes. Not always. It can come like a flash in the dark, out of nowhere. It seems that if you’re born with a special talent — a wild talent — you can be sensitive in other ways as well. In the work that I’m doing, it gives me a certain edge.”
It was clear to Sophie what she was about to be asked. But I’m not like Jeannie, she thought. I’m not clever enough . I’m not a scholar, I don’t know languages. I’m not ready for any of this. And yet in spite of all the objections that rushed to mind, she felt a flutter of excitement.
Aloud she said, in a small uncertain voice, “But I’m not very good at puzzles.”
Major Bradley laughed. “Sophie, we have puzzle-solvers. We need more people who are capable of those wild imaginative leaps. We need the sort of mind . . . ”
“ . . . that can dream of fantastic monsters,” Jeannie finished for him, “and recognize them as construction cranes.”
“And I would be a spy?”
“That isn’t a word we use,” said Jeannie with a smile. “You’d be an intelligence agent. A gatherer of information. Much the kind of thing you’ve doing these past months. But not high adventure. Just a job, like any other.”
“Not quite like any other,” Sophie said.
“No, not quite. And Sophie, we both know that the talents you possess far exceed any of mine. We believe,” — and she glanced at Major Bradley — “those abilities could have enormous military value. The kind of visionary experiences you’ve had these past months — those might happen only once or twice in a lifetime. But in the meantime . . . ”
“I would solve puzzles.”
“Yes. Once you’ve learned the trade. Alex still believes that when I spend those long hours shut away in my office, I’m writing novels. The truth is much less glamorous. There’s not much romance involved in code-breaking, Sophie. There’s a lot of training needed; it’s hard, demanding work, and only occasionally is it exciting.”
“Just so,” put in the major cheerfully. “No derring-do. No dashing about with pistols. “Or,” he amended, “one sincerely hopes that there is not.”