Andemon helped me put on my coat, and then carefully buttoned a row of dark yellow brass buttons for me. The window was wide open, and he was half kneeling beside my bed, smelling fresh of the garden air. He buckled until the last one was left, then stopped suddenly, and said in a tone that seemed to be very funny: "The person behind Linton is indeed you."
I was surprised: "How did you find out?"
"Group theory." Andremend smiled at me: "The written materials of the deciphering process that Linton gave me contain a lot of things in your thesis. Back then, you submitted a first draft of your thesis to Dr. Watt of the London Mathematicians Association, and remember?"
Of course I remember, it was the first winter after we broke up, and it had just snowed. I happened to meet him when I went to submit the first draft at the professor’s house in the West End of London, and he strongly asked me not to participate in the mathematics research meeting.
"You read my paper?" I couldn't believe it.
Andemont nodded: "Read every article."
"At that time, I just suspected that you and Linton were friends, and it could not be ruled out that he had read your manuscript. It wasn't until I interrogated him this time that I was completely sure."
"Interrogate him?" I was at a loss.
"You'll know right away. Alan, you're too immature. Some people can only be used, not trusted."
When Andymond goes out, he is usually accompanied by an adjutant. I rarely see him acting alone, and this is one of the few times. Peter was away, and Andrew was driving, and I was in the back seat. Drive back to St. Marianne Hospital.
When he got out of the car, he squeezed my hand tightly, as if to tell me that we would be safe with him and that what happened last time would never happen again.
Instead of entering the main building of the hospital, we went around to a cream-yellow auxiliary building at the back. The annex building is square and square, and when entering the door, there are policemen with guns checking their identities. Arnold took me into a room on the second floor and asked me to identify two people.
If it weren't for the scars on my face, I could hardly recognize these two people who molested me in the alley that time. They were extremely listless, with pale faces and chapped lips, squatting with their knees tucked behind the iron bars that ran across the room.
After careful identification, I said, "That's right, it's them."
"It seems that the arrest is indeed right." Andemont looked at them contemptuously: "There are not many people who hold guns for a long time, not many people are gay, and there are not many people who know about my relationship with Allen. It's better to find a scar on the face."
The man with the scar on his left face suddenly twisted his face when he saw me. He rushed over and shook the iron fence: "Don't say it's me, don't say it's me! Please, sir, save me! Please let me go! Mr. Linton asked us to do it!"
Andermond told me that these two men were MI6 spies, not high-ranking, and someone paid them to follow me and create a homosexual scandal.
In the end, they were dealt with silently. As for whether they were physically or mentally wiped out, Andremon didn't tell me. But I know that the document marked with handling opinions must have been signed and handed over to Assistant Annie.
"Did Linton let them kill me?"
I also want to ask, and Andremeng has already taken me out of the room: "There are not many people who can get in touch with our internal spies, and he is one of them, but it's a pity that the method is too clumsy."
The room just now should be a remodeled interrogation room, but the room next door is empty. In the middle of the room was an operating table surrounded by instruments covered with cloth, as if it had been abandoned for a long time.
Linton stood in the very center of the room, in the thin autumn air.
The moment he saw me, it was like seeing a devil, and he staggered back to the corner, his eyes full of horror.
I haven't seen him for a long time, but he has returned to the appearance I remember, with a casual vest over the sweater, disheveled hair, and freckles are particularly obvious because of his pale face.
I don't know what questioning method Andmon used, but his mental state was shockingly poor.
Andrew's voice echoed in my ears. He pronounced every word very softly, but when it fell into the room, it carried a cruel taste: "Linton, when you entered Plimpton Manor, you swore that Britain's interests are above all else, remember? When were you able to bribe the code name Z and let him in privately?"
Linton looked at me with red eyes: "If there is no Alan! If there is no Alan, I would have deciphered the 'mystery'! God, this is not fair! Why does he work the least and get so much!" He said to I rushed over, was grabbed by the neckline by Andermeng, and fell into the corner of the wall.
"Without Alan, you are nothing." Andemon looked down at him.
Linton calmed down slowly, his eyes were bloodshot.
"Alan, I'm jealous of you. I hope PSC will make you unable to calculate the simplest addition and subtraction for the rest of your life."
I stood there, feeling dizzy: "I thought we were friends. After that incident... I tried to contact you for help."
There was a hint of sarcasm in Linton's voice: "Yes, we were indeed friends before you deciphered the 'mystery'."
He turned to Andymond, pleading: "Mr. Garcia, you said... you admired me. What will happen to me?"
Andemon looked down at him condescendingly, and asked softly, "What is the prime factor of 1203125000?"
Linton froze for a moment, and counted one by one and reported: "2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 7, 11... 5."
"Is it over?" Andrew asked.
"It's over."
Andemont patted him on the shoulder and agreed, "Yes, you're done."
This was probably the last math problem Linton did in his life. When we left the room, we saw Arnold waiting outside the door. He was wearing a white coat and rubber gloves on his hands, leaning against the wall of the corridor doing nothing. I noticed at his feet a heavy-looking tin suitcase with silver trim at the corners. Four people who looked like male assistants stood beside him waiting for orders, and suddenly straightened up and saluted when Andemon passed by.
Andemont took two steps, then nodded to Arnold: "You can go in."
An assistant silently opened the door of Linton's room, and Arnold walked in.
Before entering the door, he got out of his arms and shook his silver pocket watch in front of my eyes, throwing a meaningful wink, as if warning me not to be addicted to Andrew.
From that day on, I never saw Linton again.
I don't know what Arnold did to him and he never told me. He would just say to me, "Little Alan, this is not something you should be concerned about. The abuse of organizational power is a terrible thing, and he must be dealt with."
At the same time, there are also spies contacted by Linton who disappear at the same time.
The person in charge of Code Z retired home, but I heard much later that his family hadn't seen him since.
I asked Andremon, "I know too much. Will you let Arnold brainwash me?"
He drove me back, smiling and shaking his head: "If I wanted to, I wouldn't have Arnold come and talk to you. I'm so proud of you. Linton gave me the equation you used to decipher 'mystery', solving very beautiful."
I haven't been in the same car with him for a long time, and suddenly I have a feeling of going back in time. He is still the visiting professor at Cambridge, and I am still the student who skipped countless classes and wanted to chase him. It's just that there is a kind of weariness in his smile, and I have already graduated this summer.
Cars circled the streets of London, and the streets were filled with gray gloom. We passed two fire drills, and a team of soldiers was distributing gas masks to residents. Nazi weapons were said to contain neurotoxins. People line up in front of the department store.
I said, "If only there hadn't been a war."
Andemont stopped the car outside the department store, raised his head and sighed: "It will end."
His sigh had a decadent taste, as if he knew that the show would eventually end, but he didn't know if he was among the actors who took the curtain call.
"You skipped so many classes at Cambridge, I didn't expect you to get to where you are today. You never went through formal cipher training, and you deciphered the code for the first time. Come to this point, Alan, you have made progress. It was so fast that it made me feel scared. I knew that Linton’s ability alone would not be able to reach his current level, and there must be someone else behind him. But I didn’t expect it to be you.” He looked at me, slowly Shaking his head: "I'm very happy to find someone who understands my thinking, and I miss the time when we discussed 'mystery' together, but I must push you off this track with my own hands. The road ahead is very dark, I would rather Go down by yourself."
Andmond's words reminded me of my father and mother. Mother's status in academia is much higher than that of the father of the Cryptography Bureau, but she gave up mathematics and accompanied her father to start the research of cryptography. I still remember her demure figure discussing issues with her father by the fire, not so much a gentle wife as a soul mate.
I think Andrew would also like to have such a person. This person can appreciate his thinking, can propose different ideas, and can accompany him on this lonely journey.
I once thought that if he gave me a chance, I would be willing to accompany him all the way.
Andrew spoke softly, but it was a warning. He took me to see the ending of Linton, because he wanted to tell me that if one day I was also not trusted, I might face the same ending. I have deciphered the "mystery", but I must withdraw from these things.
However, I couldn't leave in the end.
Arnold told me that Andymond was quarantined.
This is a review from the General Directorate of Military Intelligence. No one knows the reason for the quarantine review, but the review time is quite long. Shortly after he left Plimpton Manor for his scrutiny, I received an invitation from the Intelligence Service.