I checked the Yidian over and over again, and found that it was not a deciphering error, it was indeed my name. The ciphertext was sent in early July, before the Battle of Britain began. I kept wondering who this was, and for what purpose, trying to contact me.
Its sender knows at least three messages.
One: My name is Alan Castor.
Two: My birthday.
Three: I am in Office 1 of Plimpton Manor, and I am in charge of deciphering the "mystery".
That's why he (she?) intentionally made the code look like "mystery" so that it could eventually be sent to my office. The encryption method is unimaginably complicated, but the final key is just a simple number—my birthday, which guarantees that the cracker is me to the greatest extent.
The most important thing is the sentence in the ciphertext: Alan Custer
I don't know if this is a temptation or a greeting.
I tried to decipher the other two identical ciphertexts. The content surprised me.
One is the ciphertext intercepted on September 27:
I clearly remember that since October 1st, the Nazi planes did reduce the number of daytime air raids, and most of the time they appeared at dusk or late at night, and returned after dropping the bombs.
The second ciphertext time is one week later:
Four days after receiving the ciphertext, Birmingham and Liverpool were attacked by German planes in the middle of the night and incinerated.
Seen through the autumn sunlight, the original manuscript paper is so thin and transparent that it has been smeared with black ink. I began to think whether I should show Andy Mond.
Andymond found me first.
We went for a drive on the weekend. There are wide country roads in the suburbs of London, lined with old oak trees with wide crowns, and the leaves are dyed golden or deep red by the seasons. Small red berries of honeysuckle hung on the fence, and mushrooms began to prosper in the corners of the fields.
We passed a wheat field being harvested, and Anderson stopped the car and asked me, "Alan, do you like the countryside?"
I'm a little distracted: "I grew up in Beckenfordshire. It's the countryside compared to London."
He thought about it seriously for a while: "Do you have a good relationship with your uncle?"
"Send him money every month."
Andmon seemed to be thinking about something, and kept tapping the steering wheel with his white-gloved fingers.
"Alan, go back and wait for me at your uncle's house." He said, "It's still too late."
I was surprised: "waiting for you? What are you going to do?"
Andremon didn't seem to want to answer me. His dark blue eyes narrowed, and he turned to look at the half-harvested fields. The ears of wheat were heavy, half of them fell to the ground, and crows coveted them not far away.
After a while he said, "Edgar loves you, doesn't he?"
I nod.
"You love him too, don't you?"
"In a sense yes." I paused. "Just as a friend."
Anderson seemed relieved. He rolled his eyes at me, smiled, and stroked my hair.
"Recently there will be big movements in the Intelligence Bureau. C is going to step down. He chose to surrender during the resistance and surrender. This is the biggest mistake he made. He made too many mistakes and is not suitable for the current position of the Intelligence Bureau."
"Then who will be on stage?"
"Me," said Andymond, "it will be fast. You go back to Beckenfordshire and wait for me."
I froze.
"How long?"
"The war is over."
"Oh dear, what does it matter to me that C steps down?"
Andmon's slender fingers touched my cheeks, and the cloth of the gloves was warm from the autumn sun. His movements are gentle.
"Because you are my only weakness. I don't want C to use you to blackmail me."
"You mean, C might trouble me?" I found it a bit inconceivable: "He has no reason."
"Lots of reasons—say your mother worked for the German intelligence service, your best friend at university was a Nazi. You've been in touch by letter, and there's been—carnality. Ellen, listen to me, go back to Beckenford Go to your uncle's farm in the county and wait for me. I will come to you after the war is over."
We are on a country road outside London, the sun is warm, and the road is lined with old oak trees that are golden in autumn. Over our heads was England's beautiful blue sky.
Anderson asked me to leave the intelligence service.
"You know, even if my mother works for the Berlin intelligence service, it doesn't mean I'm treason." For a moment I was angry: "Even if I had sex with Edgar, it's not my fault! You fucking know what's going on !"
"But those old men on the jury don't know. Listen to me, Ellen." Anderson grabbed my hand, very tightly.
He paused for a long time before saying, "I love you."
"Are you worried that I will affect your position in the Intelligence Bureau?!"
"No, Ellen!"
I lost control of my emotions, stood up abruptly, and grabbed Andmon by the collar. I was so sad that I felt my shoulders were shaking, my whole body was shaking, and my throat was sore from shouting.
"Honey, how many times have you used me? Every time I almost died! Lina, Edgar... You never told me beforehand, and you always showed up as a rescuer in the end. Can you understand that I was taken advantage of by my dearest How do you feel when your friend betrays you? If you could just warn me...even if it's just 'be careful on the road'. I'm imprisoned in a dark room with no sun or sky, and all I can hope is that one day I will be able to do it again See you. We'll be happily in love forever, won't we?"
If some things are not touched, they can stay in the bottom of my heart for a lifetime. Once touched, they will pour out like a flood and cannot be controlled.
I heard myself say, "But in the end, when I threatened your interests, you asked me to leave. Who knows where you'll disappear when the war is over? Right, honey? Do you remember the one who came after you?" Alan Castor, Professor Wesson?"
Andmon didn't resist, and I let me strangle him by the collar and yell at him. His face was still pretty and pretty, with his slender eyelashes drooping down, looking a little sad.
I've lost my mind, shaking him desperately.
Finally he hugged me, so tight that I couldn't resist.
He said softly: "If I can't come to you after the war, I must be dead. I love you, Alan."
"That keeps me here. Office No. 1 still needs me." I said stubbornly, "Only I can deal with 'Mystery'."
He was silent for a moment and said, "Okay."
That's how the matter came to an end. I began to think about not telling Andrew about the ciphertext. This incident can be regarded as the Berlin Intelligence Agency trying to contact me, once reported, it will become my Achilles' heel. Moreover, the current amount of information is very small, which is basically the same as the content deciphered by the No. 1 office, even if it is reported, it does not make much sense.
I decided to wait a little longer.
Arnold is idle. He started to come to Plimpton Manor more and more. He was wearing a white coat with a small golden watch chain hanging from his chest. Leaning against my desk, he said: "Hey, little Alan, he is still so handsome today."
I really thank him: "Thank you."
During that time, I was quite decadent, and so was the psychiatrist. We often chatted and shook our legs against the secluded red brick wall of Plimpton Manor, counting the German bombers flying overhead.
He smoked a cigarette: "Twelve, counting from noon."
"Like thirteen," I said.
Arnold was unreasonable: "Thirteen is unlucky. I said twelve is twelve."
I asked him, "I remember you didn't smoke often?"
"You weren't so gloomy before."
"Go away, only a mature man knows how to be depressed." I bumped him with my elbow: "What about you?"
"A wounded man looks better when he smokes."
I asked the psychiatrist: "How did you get hurt?"
Arnold took a big drag on the cigarette, raised his head, and squinted his eyes: "Because I was not serious enough at the beginning, the person I loved was snatched away by others." He turned to look at me: "Little Alan, come give me a sympathetic Embrace."
I hugged him and patted him on the back: "It's what I deserve. You see, I never bothered to chase Andymond."
The psychiatrist was hurt: "My dear, you are too cold. Hug again."
Thinking of Andymond, I feel a little sad for a moment.
Arnold talks a lot about his work. He eschewed the stuff that involved secrecy, telling me about a Nazi spy he had recently dealt with. Before they received the drug injection, they kept shouting Long live the Reich, Long live Hitler, but after the effect of the drug took effect, they all sobbed in a low voice, unable to stop no matter what.
"Everyone has that vulnerable corner in their heart." Arnold told me: "You have the same, and I have the same."
Worthless spies were sent to trial courts, and some were locked up pending further questioning.
"We have a military facility in the West District, which specializes in detaining these people. Electric barbed wire, high walls, and high watchtowers. Mr. Garcia built it himself—a place where you can't get out once you enter."
Arnold sighed: "Looking at these things every day will make people very depressed."
At the end of October, when I guessed the key, I received that mysterious ciphertext again.
The ciphertext is still only one line:
At the same time, the telegram of the German Air Force Command deciphered by the "fan" also showed the same message.
At 3 o'clock in the morning on November 1st, German and Italian planes appeared in the sky over South Cape Town, and the urban area became a sea of flames.