“Fourth line down, twelve words to the right,” Theo announced. “A microdot. Germans could shrink a page down to a tiny dot and then drop it into some random letter. The first one was found in 1941 because of a tip that—”
“Okay, Theo,” said Tess. “We’ve all heard about this stuff.”
Theo sort of gulped, as if the entire history of cryptography were backing up in his throat like a bezoar, as if he just couldn’t help himself. “People have been speaking in code, writing in cipher, and hiding messages in all sorts of ways for thousands of years. This whole case has papers and manuscripts and books from the Arab cryptanalysts, who were working in the golden age of Islamic civilization. They basically invented cipher breaking.”
“Theo,” said Tess, “slow down. “The last time you got this excited, you trashed the Tower of London.”
“The Arabs made all their important discoveries in cryptanalysis—they invented it—but this was after they made all sorts of advances in math and statistics and linguistics, after they translated books from Egyptian, Hebrew, Chinese, Roman, Babylonian, Indian, Farsi, and a bunch of other languages.”
“My people made many, many advances,” said Omar Khayyám, nodding.
“Up there on the second level are books on medieval secret writing, including books on Mary, Queen of Scots. The archives also have recordings of Navajo code talkers—Windtalkers, some people called them—who used a code based on their language to transmit messages during World War II. The language is so hard to learn, and so few people knew it, that the Japanese couldn’t break it.”
Imogen Sparks said, “Do you think Theo missed this place?”
“Nah,” said Jaime. “He’s a cold fish.”
“I’m going to get our friends here some refreshments. Ray brought some of his famous chocolate chip cookies,” Priya Sharma said. She went to the bookshelves and pulled out a red volume nestled in a line of green volumes. The bookcase swung wide. Behind it was a full kitchen.
“This place is so awesome!” said Jaime. “When was it built? How was it built?”
Edgar said, “This neighborhood was originally known as the Five Points. Rough slum. The Morningstarr twins lived here when they first came to the country from Europe. All of the buildings were eventually torn down and other buildings popped up in their places, this warehouse being one of them.”
“This city tears down more buildings in a single month than most cities still have standing,” said Ray Turnage, a tall black man with a shaved head. “New York City is one giant boneyard.”
“Anyway,” said Edgar, “one of the original Cipherists bought it for a song and began the conversion into these archives. Over the years, we’ve expanded to include other artifacts.”
Jaime gestured to a bunch of papers strewn across a nearby table. “What are these? They kind of look like tic-tac-toe games.”
“That’s Rosicrucian cipher. Sometimes called a pigpen cipher,” Edgar said.
“That’s not a Rosicrucian cipher,” said Gunter. “I’ve never seen a Rosicrucian cipher that used sets of dots in that particular way.”
“It’s a variant of the Rosicrucian cipher,” said Edgar. “A lot of secret guilds used ciphers like these. But it’s really rather simple. Each letter is represented by a dot or set of dots in a particular location. This is the key.”
“So,” he continued, “if I wanted to write your name, I would write it like this.” He scribbled a series of lines and dots on a clean piece of paper.
“Cool,” Jaime said.
“Anyway, someone found the key and some enciphered messages hidden behind a map at the public library.”
“Wow!” Jaime said. “What did the messages say?”
“They’re about hiding a kitten from the master of the house,” said Gunter. “So not very interesting.”
“Kittens are always interesting,” Tess said, scratching Nine.
“And what’s that?” said Jaime, pointing at a board, about ten feet by three feet, hanging from thin chains going all the way up to the ceiling. On the board was a strange arrangement of brickwork in the shape of three pyramids.
“Oh, that’s the latest clue in the Old York Cipher,” said Edgar. “The symbol from the wall of 211 Pearl Street, built in 1831.”
“Another building we just lost to developers,” said Ray Turnage, shaking his head.
“What does the symbol mean?” Jaime asked.
“We don’t know yet,” said Edgar. “It’s not a tradesman’s mark. Nothing we’ve ever seen before.”
“Looks sort of Egyptian,” Jaime said.
“Yes,” said Edgar. “We’re not sure if the pyramid shape is important, if maybe there’s a match hidden in another building in the city.”
“For all we know its match was in a building already torn down,” said Imogen Sparks.
“We have enjoyed quite good luck so far,” Omar said, sitting and folding his hands over his knee. “We have not run into a dead end yet.”
“Yet,” said Imogen. “But this could take a while to decipher. Those Morningstarrs were something. So smart.”
“And cheeky,” said Tess.
“Now you sound like your grandfather,” said Imogen. “He always said that anyone who made whimsical machines like they did had to be funny, but we’ve never found any evidence of that.”
Jaime imagined Theresa Morningstarr pelting people with potatoes, hiding mechanical spiders in purses, and hid a smile behind his hand.
Priya returned with a tray of cookies, which she placed on a nearby table. Jaime would never refuse the offer of a cookie, any kind of cookie. He grabbed a chocolate chip and took a bite. Buttery, salty, chocolatey—even better than Lance’s oatmeal cookies. As he chewed, he examined the brick wall with its incomprehensible pyramids. He hadn’t the slightest idea what the shapes meant. He wasn’t an expert on the Morningstarrs like the twins were, but he knew the Morningstarrs were smart. And cheeky, if that letter was any proof.
He stopped chewing.
Smart and cheeky.
Cheeky.
Cheeky?
He didn’t have to look in his pocket to remember that last two lines of the verse they’d found were:
You spy the grand & pleasant seat,
Possess’d by Washinton the great.
The seat of George Washington. The seat! Not a city with government buildings, but an actual seat?
“So, what brings you to the archives?” Edgar said. “Trying to walk in your grandpa Ben’s footsteps? Solve the Cipher yourselves?”
A loud scoff came from Delancey DeBrule’s direction. Everyone pretended not to hear it.
“No, not today,” Tess said. “Today we have some questions about something else. You see my friend Jaime is—”
“Very interested in the decorative arts,” Jaime said.
Tess frowned. Theo stared at Jaime.
“Excellent!” said Flo. “Which era?”
“Late seventeen hundreds, early eighteen hundreds,” Jaime said.
“Yeeeeah,” said Tess, going along. “He has . . . a summer class. They’re studying pottery, furniture, all that kind of stuff.”
“He is?” Theo said.
“He’s doing a project about George and Martha Washington,” said Tess.
“I didn’t know the Washingtons were known for their taste in tables,” said Imogen Sparks.