Notes from the Grey Tower

Chapter 29

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Andemon is always elegant and beautiful. Every time I see him, I can't help but play hooligans. Every time I play hooligans, the result is that he throws me on the bed.

He always gently kissed my collarbone, unbuttoned my clothes, and said, "I will make you more comfortable."

I just want to rate one word: "shit!"

He was already dressed and ready to go out, I sat up from the bed again, my waist seemed to be broken. He turned back to take his hat, and responded to me very gentlemanly: "My dear."

"I'll go back to Plimpton Manor in the afternoon."

He thought for a while: "If you want, you can rest for a few more days."

"What about Office One?"

Andemon smiled gently: "And me."

On the afternoon of the last day of the seven-day vacation, I took the bus back to Plimpton Manor alone. The door of the dormitory where I lived was painted dark green, and some were mottled and peeled off. The porter handed me Edgar's letter.

The red grid letterhead dedicated to the Royal Air Force, with the familiar blue and black ink cursive lettering. The content is not the same as the previous few times. He said that the airport had encountered several small-scale air raids by Nazi planes recently, and gently mocked those stupid and heavy German planes. He then asked if I was still at the Golf and Baseball Club and said he could introduce me to the post of Mathematics Specialist at the RAF Research Institute at Uxbridge.

The letter ended with: For Britain.

Edgar didn't know I was working for government intelligence, and I couldn't tell him. I wrote back as usual, telling him I was fine and reminding him to pay attention to flight safety.

Every day, the RAF office in Plimpton Manor will send the attendance status of the day to the No. 1 office so that we can decipher the "mystery", so I can check the flight records of Edgar's squadron. He was assigned to No. 3 Squadron, 11th RAF, commanded by Major General Pike, headquartered at Uxbridge, responsible for defending the southeast of England, including London. It's one of the two best Air Force teams in the UK and I'm so proud of Edgar.

During the week I was away, Andremund had copied five of the "mystery" deciphering machines, one for each expert team in Office One. The Decryptor was about five feet tall, with a brass-colored case that looked like a chest, with letter pads for input and output. Its code-breaking speed can reach one code every 20 minutes. If it is cracked in turn for 24 hours, it can decipher 360 codes a day.

However, the decryption machine can only decipher the cipher calculation part automatically, and the key needs to be guessed manually.

I sat in the office for a long time and guessed the key, and then input it into the decryption machine to automatically decipher it.

The rest of the time is to help Rafael debug the decryption machine.

We squatted in front of the problematic decryption machine, Rafael opened the back cover and asked me: "Do you think he knows we have cracked the 'mystery'?"

"Berlin Intelligence Agency?" I asked, "From the current situation, no."

"No, I'm talking about the founder of Fan, the genius German cryptographer."

I admit to never thinking about it.

"I think he knows." I said, "He knows that 'Mystery' has weaknesses, and he knows that sooner or later someone will decipher it. It's just that he didn't expect it to be deciphered by us so early."

"But don't you think this is a paradox? Unless he is extremely confident that his code will never be deciphered, he will not allow the German Intelligence Agency to popularize this code in large numbers-now even the weather forecasting ship must be equipped with one." Taiwan 'fan'. But judging from the design genius displayed by 'fan', I don't think he will fail to notice his own flaws... "

"He should at least control the scope of this code."

"I don't know what he's thinking." Raphael sighed.

"Fantasy" is not static. As if guessing that we are approaching it, the other party is constantly modifying the "fan" sending method, adding a rotary wheel, and adjusting the reflection plate mapping mode. At the end of June there was a sudden period when "mystery" became undecipherable. I later found out that it was because of the addition of a rotary wheel to the transmitter. Office No. 1 and I have been busy for a week, readjusting the parameters, modifying the wiring of the decryption machine, and we were exhausted by the time we got over it.

Who is manipulating the "fan"

At that moment I thought of my mother who worked for Berlin. Her talent, prudence, carefulness and daring astonishing imagination. But as an Englishman, she does not have such a high level of confidentiality authority. Perhaps she has tested the secrecy of "Mystery" and made a judgment of "undecipherable"-other than that, I believe that the Berlin Intelligence Service will not tolerate her involvement any more.

After the Dunkirk evacuation, Germany stopped its offensive and demanded peace talks with us. The Times and the Eagle were full of articles arguing and talking about the possibility.

I asked Andermond, is it possible to sign a peace agreement with Hitler

We were sitting in the small dining room on the second floor of the red building, and Andemon was still drinking black coffee. He played with the white porcelain cup with his slender fingers, and asked me softly: "More than half of the government now supports the peace talks, and the only ones who oppose it are me, the Marquess of Genting and General Fredrey. Do you think I should continue to support the war, or should I continue to support the war?" Peace?"

"Oh, Andrew." I looked at him. "You know that Germany will definitely attack. You have seen all the deciphered codes. The peace talks are just an illusion."

"Alan, if only everyone were as smart as you." He sighed: "War is inevitable, but Churchill told me that he lacks a decisive piece of intelligence to figure out Germany's true intentions."

"Can you contact Churchill?" I asked in surprise.

"The second phone in my office downstairs has always been the direct line of the Prime Minister's office."

"What about C? What does he think?"

Andrew laughed. He had a nice smile, with opal-like emerald green eyes, and a gentle curve at the corners of his mouth. I looked at him without moving.

"C?" He shook his head slightly: "He supports negotiating with the Nazis."

"Allen." Andermond said, "If Office One deciphers information about Germany's true intentions, don't hand it over to the analyst, just give it to me."

There are thousands of encrypted telegrams pouring into Office No. 1 every day. Even if there is a decryption machine, we can only select a small half to decipher at the fastest. There is very little intel that happens to mention Hitler's explicit intentions for Britain. The message from the Air Ministry was to "remain cautious with Britain", the Army Command said "offensives are temporarily suspended", and the Navy awaited further instructions from the Führer.

One day I was guessing the key, and suddenly found a file with the key decrypted as "USW". This is the third time I have seen an encrypted file with these letters as the key. They have been judged unimportant by colleagues and placed in the waste paper basket. I took it out, put it into the decryption machine, and started recording the original text.

This ciphertext is very long, it is a meeting minutes.

I barely read the first line in German: Unternehmen Seelwe (USW), Project Sea Lion.

This is what appears to be a minutes from a meeting of Hitler's headquarters.

I handed over the deciphered original text to Andemon. The original text was three pages long, and he changed his expression after only one page. He put the document into a black suitcase and left Plimpton Manor in a hurry.

In the minutes of the meeting, Hitler proposed the "Sea Lion Project" (USW), detailing how to destroy the Royal Air Force in advance and then land on the British mainland in October. This intelligence was eventually submitted to the wartime cabinet meeting and became a key factor in deciding Britain's rejection of peace talks. We have discovered other information of the same kind one after another. This is a fatal mistake made by the Berlin intelligence system - they set the key of all documents related to the Sea Lion project to the USW.

Anderson sighed as he pressed me on the desk: "I can't believe it, Alan, you found it...you decided the right direction for the war."

I touched his waist: "Baby, can you let me fuck you once?"

Andrew froze, drew his gun and held it against my chin.

He lowered his head and licked my Adam's apple, pulled off my shirt, and smiled with his eyes bent: "My dear, you can't. But we can change positions."

It's a blissful time.

Andrew and I love each other. No one mentioned the harm left to each other before. Andemon was almost conniving to me. We used the screening room on the first floor of the Red Building to show movies, and when the night was quiet, we watched "Broken Blue Bridge" in the cinema together. I love that line Roy repeats over and over to his missing lover: "I'm going to find her forever".

Andremon no longer pushed me away from the intelligence vortex. Sometimes he and I have been working overtime in the red building until late at night. We discuss ciphers other than "mystery", judge their intelligence value, and then perfect our own cipher system. Andemont is a workaholic. I fell asleep on the sofa and turned on the laptop. When I woke up, the wall lamp was often on. I saw him still looking at the materials under the dim light, with a focused expression.

I tiptoe up behind him and kiss him.

Andremeng didn't look back, he stretched out his arms sideways to hug my waist, and kissed me back.

I asked him, "Do I know too much?"

Andemont nodded slightly: "Alan, you do know too much."

Then he stood up, hugged my waist, and rested his chin on the hollow of my shoulder: "It's okay, if something happens, I'm still here."