Secret Breakers: The Power of Three (8 page)

Brodie retied the cord around the leather cover. ‘People really think this book could be about an undiscovered place on earth and that all those weird pictures of things could exist there?’

‘Exactly.’ Hunter sat up straight. ‘And those who believed the book’s about a hidden place on earth have had a really hard time convincing others they may be right.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Well, anyone who’s come close to thinking they’ve understood MS 408 has been paraded as a madman.’

‘Like who?’ Brodie was growing more nervous by the minute.

‘Oh. Loads. Newbold’s one they told me about. He was sure he’d found a hidden language in the writing after spending most of the 1920s looking at it but after his findings were published people tore his theories apart. He went insane.’

‘Well, it won’t matter if you try and read it then,’ mumbled Tusia, ‘seeing as you’re mad already.’

Hunter pretended not to hear, but the suggestion had unnerved Brodie. ‘Are we safe, d’you think?’ she said quietly.

Hunter’s face looked like he was trying to work out a difficult sum. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘Well, looking at this manuscript? If it’s driven people mad and others have done such a good job of destroying the theories about it, then are we safe messing around with it?’ She was uncertain about whether to go on. ‘And I’m not really sure they told us everything. You know. In the papers they gave us or up in the ballroom.’

Hunter seemed to be considering the idea. ‘You think they’re keeping stuff from us?’ he said.

‘I don’t know,’ Brodie said. It sounded silly to say it aloud. How could her granddad allow her to be involved in something that wasn’t safe? But she wasn’t sure he’d told her everything either. He’d said she would need to be brave. And somehow she wasn’t convinced the story really added up.

‘We have to give it a go, don’t you think?’ said Hunter quietly.

‘I intend to give it more than
a go
,’ smirked Tusia.

Hunter rolled his eyes.

‘My parents believe this challenge is totally in my grasp. And I intend to prove them right.’

Brodie reached up and held the locket tight in her hand. She wished she felt so confident.

‘It’s got to be about finding the truth,’ said Tusia as if she were a judge passing sentence. ‘The group’s called Veritas after all. There has to be a truth behind what this manuscript says, however weird it looks and however badly people’ve failed before.’ She peered down at the battered red cover, almost as if by staring long enough the truth would drift out to her.

‘Yes,’ Brodie said at last. ‘The truth’s important.’ Something about how the words sounded in her head seemed to encourage her. Perhaps her mother had been close to finding the truth. Perhaps seeking the truth herself would bring her closer to her mum. She hoped so. She really did. This manuscript had a history interwoven with hers. That was what her granddad had said, and however difficult the path they were about to walk, she was determined to try her best. To pass the test and be chosen for the team that tried to break the secret of the unread book.

Kerrith Vernan tapped her newly polished fingernails on the edge of the oak desk then flicked the pages of her desk calendar with the end of her fountain pen. She folded her arms.

She couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Everything was far too quiet.

Smithies’ life was all about breaking secrets. He lived for the code. However much she detested the man she had to acknowledge that. Yet the person who’d made her life so miserable, just by being in it, had slipped from the office without even a murmur. It just didn’t add up.

How could someone so consumed with secrets and the desire to discover truths simply glide away and work happily in a museum? She twisted the new diamond ring she’d bought herself around her little finger. It was a beautiful ring. Truly expensive. The man in the shop seemed surprised she was buying it simply because she wanted it. He presumed there was a reason for the purchase. And it was this thought that was nagging away at the back of Kerrith’s mind. There
was
a reason she’d bought the ring. With Smithies gone she was now the most senior code-cracker on her level. The final barrier to her ultimate promotion to Level 5 removed. Of course she hadn’t shared this information with the man in the jeweller’s. He was there to sell her the ring not question her motives. But he’d been right. There
was
a reason. And there had to be a reason for Smithies’ silence over his redeployment to Bletchley.

And whatever it took she was going to find out what it was.

Brodie didn’t sleep well. Her mind was filled with dreams where she was on a tiny island in the middle of a huge ocean. She stood on the edge of a lagoon and she wanted more than anything to walk forward into the water. She was sure there were steps leading down out of sight and she could hear a voice calling her. The ripples made hot circles around her feet. But she was scared.

The dream disturbed her but the lack of sleep was mostly due to the fact she’d never shared a room before.

Tusia chatted long after Brodie’s eyelids were heavy with exhaustion but there seemed no way to shut her up and Brodie felt it rude not to answer. Then it seemed that even when Tusia was asleep she didn’t stop talking. The muttering was low and incomprehensible and Brodie was sure there were frequent references to chess pieces. When Tusia finally pulled herself up to sitting and stretched her arms in the air to welcome the morning, Brodie groaned and pulled the pillow over her head.

‘You OK, roomie?’ Tusia said in a singsongy voice that sounded full of energy. Brodie merely grunted. ‘Today’s the start of something new and wonderful. How about a little yoga to set us up for the day? Or if you’d prefer we could give tai chi a go. I’ve a caftan I could lend you.’

Brodie wriggled further down the bed. ‘I’m fine really. I just need five minutes.’

‘Ahh, the effects of the sugar in the hot chocolate you drank before bedtime. A sure side effect is “grumpy mornings”. If you stick to fruit juice or herbal tea you’d wake up so much more refreshed.’

‘I’m not grumpy,’ Brodie snapped and then smiled meekly over the edge of her pillow. ‘OK, maybe a little.’

‘Well, grumpy or not, it’s our first full day and you and I have an appointment in the library.’ Tusia snapped open her welcome pack and ran her finger down the printed list inside. ‘Maths lesson, followed by Geography.’

‘Oh joy,’ Brodie moaned and let the pillow fall flat on her face again.

It was a simple scheme. Smithies explained normal lessons would be taught in the morning, in order to cover the home-schooled requirement of the plan, and in the afternoon there’d be sessions on code-cracking. Most of the lessons would take place in the mansion. Some sessions would be held in the huts.

There was only one rule. Whatever happened, don’t engage in conversation with the general public.

Most visitors to the museum would see only what they expected to see and as long as the children were in their Pembroke uniform, they’d pass for a group on a school trip. It was, Smithies explained, the very best form of secrecy. The right-under-theirnose sort, which was rarely questioned and it was, he added, what made the process so exciting.

Miss Tandari taught them ordinary subjects, and for the most part did a very good job of it. She tried desperately to make the necessary work on primary factors and function machines seem interesting, and every now and then, when she felt the group was flagging, she bought them mini chocolate bars to boost their sugar levels, something Hunter was particularly grateful for but which Tusia refused in favour of yogurt-covered raisins.

Smithies and Ingham split the sessions on code-cracking while doubling as curators at the museum. Brodie couldn’t believe there was so much to learn. They covered hidden messages written in lemon juice and revealed by heat; substitution ciphers and some crazy thing called the pigpen cipher. They even talked about ‘disinformation’ which could be added to codes to confuse those trying to crack them.
Everything
confused Brodie to begin with. And everything, it seemed, could be used to hide a secret message just as long as you knew where to look.

‘But why d’you need code at all?’ moaned Hunter after a particularly frustrating session on the Caesar Cipher.

Brodie saw a spark behind Ingham’s eye. A fire growing. ‘Power,’ he said.

‘You what?’

‘Codes give power. They let me tell other people things I can keep secret from you. That gives me power over you.’ He lifted his coffee mug to his lips and the chain attaching it to the radiator rattled. The children hadn’t asked about the chain. It seemed rude.

‘So if I use a code, that controls who knows what?’ pressed Hunter.

Ingham put the mug down. He widened his hands in agreement. ‘At this very place during World War Two, code-crackers, chosen just like you, intercepted codes sent by the enemy. Messages sent from generals to submarines or soldiers on the front line. The messages were sent over the radios and people here heard those messages. And they broke the codes they were written in.’ He pulled himself up tall. ‘People here at Station X knew what the enemy were saying to each other. They knew their secrets and because of that, they took their power. Churchill reckoned the Black Chamber here shortened the war by at least two years.’ Ingham seemed to glow. Excitement blazed behind his eyes. ‘Breaking codes is all about looking beyond what’s written. The surface stuff isn’t important. It’s what’s
under
the surface.

Brodie was going along with what he said but there were so many codes to learn about. So many ways to hide a secret. ‘How do we know, though, what code something’s written in? How d’you do that “breaking” thing in the first place?’

Ingham searched for the best ways to explain. ‘Codes are like people,’ he said. ‘There’s different types and different kinds. We see the outside of the person and we may think we know them. But it’s looking from another angle, seeing things differently, that helps us really understand. What we see on the surface isn’t what’s inside.’ He hesitated. ‘Reading codes is like reading people. First impressions aren’t important. They’re just for fools.’ His voice cracked a little. ‘If you want to read codes you just have to learn to look carefully.’

His eyes sparkled even more brightly. Brodie no longer saw a man in pyjamas, irritated by having to work with children. She saw a man in love with the code. It was contagious.

Smithies kept up with how the group were doing via the internal mail system which had been used when Bletchley Park was a Black Chamber in the war. A series of overhead vacuum pipes carried messages contained in plastic screwtop containers that were passed into the pipe system at conveniently placed holes around the buildings. The noise of a container’s arrival sounded very much like a sock being pulled down a plug hole, and it was this noise and the subsequent arrival of a message that announced the prospect of a test.

‘Smithies says the time has come,’ sniffed Ingham, rubbing his left knee which he’d earlier told them was causing him a fair degree of tendon pain. ‘Personally I’m not sure you’re up to testing yet.’ He cast a glance in Hunter’s direction. ‘But if it means we get to move on to looking at MS 408 more quickly, then Smithies has my support.’ Brodie saw that glimmer in his eyes again as if he were talking about the return of a long-lost friend. ‘This message says you should be ready for the test the day after tomorrow.’

The morning of the test didn’t begin well. By the time Brodie reached the breakfast table, Tusia and Hunter were in the middle of a full-blown row about earmuffs.

‘I’m telling you they look ridiculous,’ Tusia hissed across the table as Hunter smiled broadly at her from beneath a pair of red fluffy ear defenders.

‘And I’m telling you I’m simply wearing them to drown you out. I’ve had enough of your moaning and whingeing.’

Brodie took a sharp intake of breath. If today was the day of the test and they were supposed to be working together then their chances of success were pretty close to zero.

‘Please give it a break!’ she pleaded, pouring herself a rather meagre bowlful of Sugar Puffs. ‘Today’s an important day.’