SIX
Doris frantically began cleaning off a chalkboard in the corner of the room, balancing precariously on her crutches. I hadn’t even noticed the board before. Once it was wiped clean, she picked up a piece of chalk and wrote the word Cambridge. Then the others began calling out letters to her. I watched in fascination as the words started to appear.
Six not Five
Apostles
Haigha knows the truth
It all makes sense through the looking glass
Zzzzz zzzzz zzzzz zzzzz zzzzz
Stanley Homer Hicks Johnson Liszt Birdie
Amoeba
I saw the words, but how did any of this make sense? What were the Apostles, and who were those six people? What did five sets of five z’s mean? And an amoeba? Was that even how it was spelled? And finally, who was Haigha, because if he knew the truth, he was the person I really needed to talk to—forget about Stanley and Homer and the others.
“Does any of this make sense to anybody?” I asked.
They all shook their heads. “Well, not yet, but we’ve converted the first part…at least I hope we have. Now we need to convert the numbers at the bottom of the page to letters.”
“I’m going to make a basic assumption that if the numbers became letters that by applying the same formula we can make the numbers into letters,” Doris said.
I read out the groups of letters, and they were converted and written down as numbers.
7312*1694*02
982*763*3221
05824*33956
827*9532*161
894962*8091
“Is that it?” Doris asked.
“That’s all of them,” I said.
They all crowded around, staring at the chalkboard, silent, studying. I moved in close as well and looked over Doris’s head to see the board. I could read the words, but that didn’t mean that any of it made any sense to me. I shifted anxiously from foot to foot, waiting for somebody to have a eureka moment and explain it all, but we continued to stand in silence—a silence that was making me increasingly uncomfortable. Finally I spoke.
“So what does this all mean?”
They exchanged questioning looks. “I haven’t the faintest notion,” the military man said.
“It’s gibberish to me,” the chess master said.
“Well, I do see one connection,” the professor offered, and we all turned to him.
“The reference to Cambridge is the obvious clue that was not coded,” he said.
“That’s what brought me here to England—the reference to Cambridge,” I said.
“And the word beneath it is Apostles. There is a little-known discussion group of Cambridge graduates who refer to themselves as the Apostles.”
“Either a definite clue or a strange coincidence,” Doris said.
“We in the encryption game don’t believe in coincidences,” the military man said. “It must mean something. Perhaps those names are members of that club.”
“And how would we find that out?” I asked.
“It’s a rather secretive club, but they do have a diary which they simply call the book. Members’ names are recorded there.”
“How can I read the book?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you can unless you are a member of the club…or know a member of the club.” He smiled. “And I know a member. I’ll make arrangements for you to go up to Cambridge and meet with him.”
“Excellent!” Doris said. “I’ll arrange for Charlie to take DJ to Cambridge.”
I was pretty sure Charlie wouldn’t find it excellent, but for my part, beggars couldn’t be choosers—I’d ride along with good old Charlie. “Great. Thanks, everybody.”
“And now I will make a copy of the decoded words for everybody and send you all home to think and to look at it afresh in the morning,” Doris said.
“Would you mind if we shared it with other people?” the military man asked. “You know, other experts in decryption or mysteries, perhaps other Holmesian societies?”
Doris looked at me. “They say many hands make light work.”
I shrugged. “Sure, share away.”
I lay in bed, fighting to keep my eyes open. There was one more thing I needed to do. I pulled out my phone to text Steve.
Hope things are going well. We broke the code—sort of—and it might work for your entries as well. Frequency of letters. 1 = e, 2 = t, 3 = a, 4 = o You get the idea. Look up the rest. Gotta sleep. Good luck.