"For 'fans'", the man on the windowsill raised his coffee cup.
I was very surprised: "You know that I deciphered 'mystery'?"
He put down his glass with a bang, and jumped down from the window sill: "We all know it. Mr. Garcia made it public—you helped Linton decipher the 'mystery', and the deciphering method is very wonderful!"
He was right, indeed everyone knew it.
Andrew was away, and his assistant, Annie, led me through each office, being talked about by many people along the way.
"This is the Alan Castor who co-translated 'Fantasy' with Linton? I heard it's in Office No. 7."
"Why not in Office One?"
"He's more handsome than I imagined, but a little unkempt..."
My new colleague told me that the Linton incident was originally kept in a state of absolute secrecy, but later the superior learned about the incident through some means. Under pressure, Andremon revealed how the "mystery" was deciphered and who was behind it—but Linton's final outcome was kept secret.
He asked me: "It seems that Linton was fired for leaking important secrets to you?"
I thought for a while: "I don't know."
And this kind of publicity is only limited to the inside of Plimpton Manor, leaving here, the whole world knows nothing about it.
My new colleague held out his hand: "It's an honor to meet you. My name is Raphael-Raphael. Hutz. I've met you before."
His long black hair was slightly curly, almost down to his shoulders, and the color of his hair just set off the brightness of his deep black eyes. The woolen jacket is a bit darker in color, and underneath are yellow-green khaki trousers. The whole person seems to be somewhere between the sharpness of a young student and the maturity brought by learning.
I don't recall ever seeing someone like that, tentatively asking, "At the last math club meeting?"
He seemed to find it amused: "Alan, we are classmates. It was Professor Lindemann's advanced mathematics lecture, and I was sitting right behind you."
I skipped so many classes that I really couldn't remember, so I shook hands with him guiltily.
"Speaking of... I remember you skipping every class, except that one winter you showed up to every one of Professor Lindemann's classes. There were only three of us in the big lecture hall, you, me, and Harry. You liked listening to him?"
I don't remember who Harry is, but I rack my brains to remember who is Professor Lindemann. He is Andrémond's successor, an old man in his fifties, a famous French mathematician, and one of the few visiting professors at Cambridge. The professor's English pronunciation is not good. It is rumored that most of what he said is inaudible. What he can understand is incomprehensible. In a few cases, what is clear and understandable is wrong.
I smiled frankly: "It's not because I like Professor Lindemann's lectures, but because the classroom is warm in winter."
I patted him on the shoulder sympathetically: "Actually, I have never understood his lectures. I admire you very much and listened to him all winter."
Raphael looked at me in disbelief: "Alan, you... Is it luck to decipher the 'mystery'?"
He shook his head in confusion, shrugged, and went about his business. It took a few minutes before he threw out a sentence from behind the mountain of materials on the table, seemingly very disappointed: "I really didn't expect...you are so sloppy."
Raphael is my new partner. The code for Office Seven isn't particularly important, so it's just the two of us. The intercepted telegrams were sorted and sent to our desk on time at 7 o'clock every morning, and then they were deciphered and then handed over to the analysis office for analysis. It may be because I am a decipherer of the "mystery". When we first met, he seemed to have something similar to me. As time went by, this yearning was gradually ruthlessly shattered.
As the person in charge, I am used to showing up at the office every morning with a loaf of bread in my mouth during working hours, put my legs in thick cowhide boots on the table and start reading materials, and whistle outside the door when I see a girl passing by. Once or twice a week, Arnold walked into my office with a smile on his face. He wore gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. He was elegant and scholarly. The first thing he said when he entered the door was: "Little Alan, my dear, you have a cool posture today."
Raphael frowned and took the documents from my desk with a disgusted expression on his face.
The file still has to be dusted when picked up.
One day he sat on the window sill drinking coffee again, and I hid in the dark depths of the room to study the telegram. He suddenly turned to look at me, which made me panic.
He took a sip of black coffee with a mug, and said, "Alan, you should shave your beard."
I touched it with my hand, and it really left residue.
Aside from being overly critical of my personal habits, Raphael was an excellent partner (Arnold had never been too critical of me in this regard, even on a date). Compared with Linton, he was more able to notice the mathematical laws inside the message, and he was particularly sensitive to the frequency and method of German letters. I am very surprised, with his ability, why he is second to the seventh office.
I returned to Cambridgeshire, retired the house, and officially lived in Plimpton Manor. This place is different from Cambridgeshire. There are no bell towers and domed churches all over the place, and there is no strong historical atmosphere. All the people work silently, and everything looks plain and orderly.
Plimpton Manor is said to be a noble manor with a history of 150 years. There are many buildings scattered within the red brick wall, each one is a separate code-breaking office, marked with a bronze plaque. This is a gathering place for geniuses. During the day, people seldom hear noises. Only the remaining leaves on the trees next to the road will make a rustling sound when the wind blows.
The single-storey shed that Raphael and I used alone seemed to be a converted storage room in the manor, with three large rooms for stacking materials and an office. It is a white brick building with sloping sunshades on the roof, and the windows are almost blocked by dead creeper vines, and you have to push hard to open them. Raphael said that in summer the whole house can be covered with creeper greens, but in winter I can only see their withered leaves.
My room is arranged behind the reference room, which is very convenient for work. An iron bed and two cabinets, the furniture style is simple and comfortable.
Arnold doesn't like my new home. He patted the bed and thought it was too hard, pulled up the curtains and thought it was too light, and closed the door and thought it was poor sound insulation. I was wondering what the use of these requirements was. He touched his chin and said meaningfully: "When I did it, there was too much movement, and I could see it from the outside."
I threw him out with a blank expression: "Doctor Veschi, you think too much."
Arnold's office is not mainly located in Plimpton Manor, but is concentrated in the internal medical institutions of several intelligence agencies such as code-named Z, and he only returns to report work every week. After the report, I wandered to my office with nothing to do and spent the whole day.
If Andymond had the mentality of trying to fall in love with me at the beginning, then the current relationship between me and Arnold is also trying to fall in love. I tried to forget about Anderson, and Arnold was simply bored.
We go to the movies and eat French food on weekends. When passing by the park, a large flock of white pigeons flew up and dropped their feathers leisurely. Arnold waved to me and asked me to wait for him, and suddenly disappeared into the traffic on the street outside the park. I stood idly for an hour counting the pigeons, and suddenly the pigeons flew up again. Between the interlacing of wings and white feathers, I saw Arnold come back, with one hand in the pocket of the windbreaker, and the other holding three red, yellow and blue hydrogen balloons, smiling.
The balloons are suspended straight in the air, and the colors are beautiful.
He handed me the thread in his hand, a little embarrassed: "Waiting for a long time? It's hard to find this kind of thing in this special period. I suddenly remembered that the owner of a department store I know is nearby... Guess you might like it."
I knew Arnold wanted to keep the silver pocket watch in his coat pocket, and if he gave it to me, it would end the relationship. We didn't take each other seriously, but we both upped the game with each other.
When I saw Andrmond again, Arnold and I looked a little bit in love.
Anderson's office is tucked away at the back of Plimpton Manor, and I've been there several times. It was a quiet two-story red brick building, which was called "Red Building" internally. Arched doorways, white steps flanked by dark green painted iron handrails. Because of its long history, the wall tiles are somewhat mottled. He usually works on the first floor, and the second floor is a reception room and private dining room.
I happened to have a document to hand over to Annie that day. When Andemont was away, the red building seemed empty, and the corridors felt lonely even when the winter sun fell. I happened to meet Arnold coming out of it. He saw me stunned for a moment, then happily waved the file bag in his hand to me: "Alan, come here, I have something to tell you."
Just after a light snowfall, I was wearing a thick turtleneck sweater, a mid-length jacket with a stand-up collar, and a thick scarf, wrapped up like a bear. I went over and asked him what was the matter.
He suddenly put his arms around my waist and kissed me on the lips.
Very light, very fast, like flirting before a long kiss.
Then I heard a slight cough.
We stood in the corridor of the office building, turned around, and we could see Andemon. He was standing on the steps under the porch, with a brown suitcase at his feet, followed by a blonde woman.
It was the first time I saw Andrew in uniform.
A dark blue khaki uniform with dark yellow brass buckles and a military hat with a large brim, the shadow cast by the brim of the hat almost covered half of his face. He was wearing black military boots, and he was thin and tall. It's been a long time since I saw her, her face is a little pale, her dark green eyes seem to be more sunken and deep, and the lines on her face are more determined than before. The bright winter sun cast a halo on him.
As if he had just returned from hell, his expression was indifferent, and his whole body was icy cold.
For a moment I was a little at a loss.
Arnold greeted him: "Welcome back, BOSS."
I haven't seen him since I came to Plimpton Manor. I thought he had just returned from a long-distance business trip as usual. On the second day after his return, the news of the segregation review was only made public in Plimpton Manor, and it was widely circulated. I don't know what he went through, but Arnold told me: Anderson is alive and healthy, and he has been declared the winner of this power struggle. After a long time, I asked him why he knew clearly, why he didn’t tell me about Andermeng’s quarantine inspection in advance, and he laughed: “If you knew that he was under inspection at that time, would I still have a chance to chase you?”
After a long distance, he looked me up and down, bent his emerald green eyes, and said softly, "Go ahead."
Then he turned his head, embraced the woman next to him, and slowly lowered his head to kiss her.
I just noticed the blond woman. She was beautiful, with light blue eyes, wearing a camel hair coat, high heels, and bright red lipstick. When she looked at people, there was a cat-like indifference and arrogance in her blue eyes. In a way, she is very similar to Andrémon.
Andmon focused on kissing, closed his eyes, and put one hand on the woman's waist. The woman's wavy blonde hair is dazzling in the thin sunlight.
It took me a long time to feel Arnold pulling my arm: "Little Alan, let's go."
When we walked out of the white building and passed him, Andemon let go of the woman in his arms and straightened up.
His voice was full of disappointment: "Alan, I didn't expect you to accept C's invitation. You let me down deeply."
I tried to control my voice to be calm: "Sir C said he trusted me. I hope you can also find that I can be trusted."
"Trust?" Andmon sneered, "I paid too much for trusting you. Are you worth it? I regret it."
He held up the hand of the woman beside him and introduced to me: "This is Linna, my fiancée."