I think my greatest contribution to Plimpton Manor should be to make the emergence of the decryption machine.
Science has no borders, and mathematicians have no ranks. Everyone gathered at Plimpton Manor was once a wizard in mathematics or other subjects. Most of them are very young, directly selected by Andemont from universities or research institutes, full of vigor and vigor. The reason for saying "once" is that without exception, they abandoned their original research direction and devoted themselves to cryptography.
I once played a dog-running math game with two colleagues in Office 1. One of them was an Oxford French professor who studied mathematics in his spare time.
This problem is very classic. Two people are walking toward each other, and a dog runs back and forth between them. Find out how far the dog has traveled when the two meet. Those who know the trick need only multiply the time the two met by the speed of the dog to get the correct answer.
The French professor gave the correct answer instantly.
I joked: "You must know the knack of solving problems."
He was surprised: "There is a trick? I just count the distance the dog runs every time, and then calculate the infinite series."
This is Office One.
Office No. 1 is located in a remote corner of Plimpton Manor. It is a white Tudor building standing alone in the winter sun. Andemon's low profile makes both the Red Mansion and it seem very secretive. I carefully checked the bronze sign on the door before entering the lobby on the first floor.
The wooden floor was well scrubbed and echoed hollowly from the tread of your boots.
There is only one conference hall and three large offices on the second floor, and the rest of the rooms are locked. The door of the innermost office has a bronze "Andrémon Garcia" plaque on it, and I think this is his exclusive office here.
I was assigned to the larger one of the three offices, and there were about seven or eight people sitting in it, very busy. I was seated by the window, and the papers and personal belongings were already laid out on the table.
Office One, excluding Anderson, had a total of twenty cryptographers. They form a team of two or four and work together every day. A "mysterious" telegram came in, someone was in charge of finding the key, and someone was in charge of deciphering the file. Because there were exactly ten people, I was overwhelmed and stood in the middle at a loss.
"Excuse me, who was Linton's partner before? Maybe I can fill his vacancy?"
The person being questioned was a young man with short black hair, and he was putting the deciphered information into the file.
He replied bluntly: "He is partnered with Mr. Garcia."
At this time, someone looked across the room and said, "George, is there a newcomer? I heard that Alan Custer is coming. The one who deciphered the 'mystery'."
The man with short black hair raised his head suddenly: "What's your name?"
"Alan Custer. He is Mrs. Custer's son, and he will work in Office No. 1 from today." Someone gently opened the door, and the office fell silent. I turned around and saw Andy Meng walking in with a file bag under his arm.
Andemon always brings a peaceful atmosphere to people. It seemed that as long as he stood there without doing anything, the surrounding sounds would be automatically filtered out, and the dust suspended in the sunlight would become finely detailed.
"Alan and I are partners." He thought for a while: "Research on the decryption machine of 'Mystery'."
"I need the information to get it from me, Allen."
This is the first time we've met since that night. My heart was beating violently under my clothes, but Andymond still looked calm. He glanced at me, rolled his eyes, and held out his hand to me: "I'm glad you're cured."
Andemont rarely came to Office No. 1, and stayed in the red building most of the time. I studied his unfinished decryption machine model, and compared it with the drawings Raphael gave me. Andemont's method is very simple. He tried to reverse-design the reverse machine that can quickly find the decryption key by modifying the connection method of the "mysterious" encryption machine.
But Raphael is different. The drawings he showed me are all intricate circuits.
I was looking at the blueprint of the decryption machine under the dim light, and he routinely sat on the starlit window sill in Office No. 7, with one leg bent, waiting patiently for me to finish reading.
"If this kind of thing can really be manufactured, the world will be a sensation."
"I just have this idea, it's not perfect yet."
It's the first time I've seen something like this. He designed a large number of vacuum tubes in the decryption machine, judged right and wrong by punching holes in the paper tape, and performed logical calculations.
"Why are you in Office Seven?" I asked.
Raphael was a little surprised.
"With your ability, you shouldn't just be in the No. 7 office."
I shook the blueprint in my hand.
He laughed at himself, with an indifferent expression: "My mother is Polish, my grandmother is Jewish, and I have half of foreign blood."
"It's not fair! Britain is not a Nazi, and it doesn't care about your blood!"
"Allen, you haven't left Plimpton Manor for a long time, right? Now the black shirts are rioting every day on the street... Nazi racism is spreading very fast in the UK - besides, this is the intelligence agency."
"I know, I've read in the papers. They're asking the government to negotiate with the Third Reich." I said dejectedly, "They're just a minority."
It would cost at least £100,000 to build such a machine, and there was a good chance that things could go wrong. Raphael has a genius mathematical thinking. He constructed a very delicate and complex decryption method, but it is not practical. Fortunately, the decryption machine of 'Mi' doesn't need to be so complicated, because I came up with a simpler method soon after.
The days of studying the encryption machine were peaceful. This lull lasted about three to four months.
The snow melted on the streets of London, and the sky seemed high and far away. It is the season when the tulips are fragrant in the back garden of the private villa by the Thames, and more and more people are free to drink dark beer in the bar. I'm starting to miss Cambridgeshire, the apple tree outside the library arches should be blooming. I don't know if the kid's math performance has improved.
Arnold visits me often. In windy weather he would help me put a coat over a thin shirt.
The room was full of people, and he came over like sticky candy, leaning against my desk and flirting with a calm demeanor.
"Little Allen, have you considered our honeymoon trip to the Lake District to see lavender in August?"
Anderson was there sometimes, and Arnold never restrained himself, still leaning against me with a smile on his face.
Andmond never ordered him to leave either.
He just stayed in Office One, discussing work, looking up codes, until Arnold left.
I don't know what Andymon did, but from that day on, I seldom saw Linna.
The only time he went to the Red Building, Andemont's office door was ajar. I stood at the door with the proposal book, and heard the voice of a woman inside.
Andmon lowered his voice, seemingly dissatisfied: "I told you not to come."
"But you're hurt!"
Through the crack of the door, I saw him leaning on the high-backed chair, his shirt unbuttoned, exposing his chest. There was a horrific gash from his left shoulder to his chest, from which blood flowed continuously. Lin Na was holding something to plug the wound, and blood-stained waste gauze was thrown all over the floor.
Andemon seemed to be in pain, his face was so pale that there was no blood left.
I hesitated to call the doctor.
Linna suddenly noticed something. She backed away abruptly, like a disturbed cat, turned around, and drew out her gun.
"Who is there!"
I had no choice but to push open the door and walk in with my hands raised: "Miss, do you need me to call the doctor?"
I raised my chin at Andremon: "He has lost too much blood."
Lina's blue eyes narrowed in disbelief, but the gun was not put down.
Andemon's voice was very low, and it was the first time I heard him speak in such a weak voice: "Alan, help me call Peter in. Lena, please leave... Thank you."
I called Peter next door and briefly explained the situation. When he came back his fiancée had gone. Andemont leaned on the chair exhaustedly alone, his face was as white as paper.
I took the gauze to press his wound and asked, "What's wrong with you?"
"I went to investigate the riots of the black shirts." He said: "I was hacked in the chaos."
"Why go in person? Where are your agents?"
Andrew shook his head.
"Some things have to be seen for yourself."
"Are you sure you don't want to call Arnold?"
Andremeng closed his eyes wearily.
"don't want."
After a while, he said again: "Linna is an agent of the Intelligence Bureau. The sound of your walking is too loud. Fortunately, you opened the door in time to come in, otherwise she would have shot you through the door."
"Do not talk."
It was the first time I saw him hurt. Anderson has always been very strong in my impression. He was never ostentatious, always calm and low-key. Even when he pressed me on the long table in the Red House restaurant and entered my body, he was calm. Now that the strength that kept him calm was broken because of his body, I suddenly found it funny, bent down, and reached out to hook his chin.
"Honey, what do you say if I pull your legs apart now?"
Andemon's emerald green eyes opened a crack and narrowed dangerously.
"you dare."
I stuffed the gauze into his right hand and started to untie his belt: "Press the wound yourself and use force, otherwise the bleeding won't stop."
"Alan, stop."
I smiled: "I will be much gentler than you. At least I won't fall into the bathtub afterwards."
"You... fainted?"
Andmon's face was pale, and there was blood on his neck. I bowed my head and kissed his neck, the strong smell of blood.
"Baby, spread your legs."
In fact, I didn't intend to go to the end, I just wanted to humiliate him, as revenge for his rape|rape that night. I casually pinched a few places on his body that were not injured, and touched his place again. Andrew raised his head in pain.
I let Peter go when he knocked on the door.
He suddenly grabbed my hand and pressed it between my crotch.
I was speechless in surprise.
He was... so simple... so hard.
Peter knocked on the door very regularly, knocking three times, stopping once, without intermission.
Andemon said hoarsely, "Allen, you dare to go."