'But why use any numbers here at all?' Wolfe asked. 'Why not just a word or phrase?'
Benjamin smiled. 'Franklin did use it for numbers with the older Masonic code. But with his own pyramid code, it took on a different function: the function of the second or shifting key in a Caesar substitution code.'
'To shift letters so many places to the right?'
'Well, to shift the letters so many triangles ahead in the tabula recta pyramid. This symbol at the end of Jeremy's code would decode as a six. So if we go back to the pyramid and add six places to these letters we get…' He worked on the notepad for a moment. When he finished he sat back, grunted.
'What?' Wolfe leaned down closely over his shoulder. The converted message was written at the bottom of the page.
F-R-B-N-K-L-I-N
'Not much better,' said Wolfe. He laughed. 'I'm afraid you don't quite have this-'
'Of course!' Benjamin erased the B and wrote in an A. Now the line read:
'Jeremy was new to all this,' Benjamin explained. 'He forgot he'd shifted the A to the zero triangle, which isn't in the pyramid proper. Franklin had a special notation in those cases, but I guess Jeremy didn't know that, and…'
'Yes, yes, very interesting,' said Wolfe, taking the paper from Benjamin. 'Well, I suggest we don't wait until morning. Let's go and try this on Fletcher's computer right now.'
Benjamin nodded, but as Wolfe retrieved his shoes and put them on, then moved to the door, Benjamin hadn't yet risen from the bed.
'Benjamin?' Wolfe prodded.
'It's just strange,' he said.
'That someone as precise as Dr. Fletcher would make such a mistake?'
'No, not that. It's just very odd that Jeremy would choose this code, from all possible codes.'
'Think where you are, Benjamin,' Wolfe answered. 'There's a cryptologist here, a Dr. Karl Bennett, one of the best in the field. I'm sure Fletcher was resourceful enough to seek him out and find out whatever he needed to know about codes.'
'Perhaps.' Benjamin shook his head. 'But it's still strange. Franklin scholars had discovered these numbered codes in his correspondence and some of his business papers, and they'd assumed it was based on the Masonic code. But they'd never been able to decipher it before, until a particular letter was unearthed just last year.'
'And who unearthed it?' Wolfe asked.
Benjamin looked up at him. 'I did.'
'What?'
'I wrote a paper about it. That discovery was responsible for my appointment at the Library of Congress.'
'So in other words,' said Wolfe, remaining in the doorway, 'Fletcher knew that quite probably the only person who would be able to recognize this and decode it would be one Benjamin Franklin Wainwright.'
Benjamin looked up at him, not quite comprehending.
'Isn't it obvious, Benjamin?' He smiled broadly. 'He didn't leave this for himself. He knew the password. He left it for you.'
Wolfe came over to the chair, put his hand on Benjamin's shoulder.
'That's what I meant when I said Fletcher had leaked information, just not yet. He intended to leak something, that much is clear. To you.'
CHAPTER 15
Wolfe immediately led Benjamin off down the hall to Fletcher's room. Once there, again Wolfe performed the ritual of examining the strip of tape on the doorjamb; once again he seemed satisfied that it had not been tampered with. He unlocked the door and they entered Fletcher's dark room.
Everything was as they had left it. Benjamin walked in and almost stumbled over the keyboard on the floor, as Wolfe had insisted on closing the curtains before turning on the small banker's lamp on the table. Then Wolfe switched on the laptop computer.
This time when it asked for a password, Wolfe immediately typed in 'poisson,' and the desktop with its few icons appeared. Then, as Benjamin had before, Wolfe double-clicked on the icon that read TEACUP-6. And as before, a small window appeared with the message ENTER PASSWORD FOR TEACUP INITIALIZATION.
Wolfe bent his fingers over the keyboard, then stopped.
'What do you think, 'franklin' with a small or capital F?' he asked.
Benjamin looked at the yellow paper where Wolfe had set it in the circle of light from the lamp. 'Just small F, I think. He knew there was no way to designate capitals in Franklin's code.'
'I agree,' said Wolfe. He tapped the name, all in lowercase letters, into the waiting rectangle.
Nothing happened.
'Damn,' Wolfe said. 'If this doesn't work-'
'Wait,' said Benjamin. 'Look.'
On the laptop screen, a new window had opened. It was a list of file names-but before they could read any of them, another window appeared on the screen.
CONVERT GADENHOWER DATA? (Y/N) it read.
'Gadenhower data?' said Benjamin. He looked at Wolfe. 'Mrs. Gadenhower?'
Wolfe nodded. 'He had spoken to her just that day, remember. And told her he was going back to his room to type in notes from their conversation. And I suspect we want to continue where he left off, don't you?'
Benjamin nodded.
'Very well then.' And Wolfe extended his index finger and very gently hit the Y key.
The window disappeared-and another window replaced it.
CONVERTING TEXT it read. And then a progress bar appeared beneath it, with the message above it: Time Remaining: About 30 minutes.
'Apparently,' Wolfe said, 'we have half an hour before our next revelation.'
He bent and turned the Chippendale chair upright, then motioned to Benjamin to drag the other chair over to the table. Once seated, he offered Benjamin the bottle of scotch he'd brought from his room.
'Without a glass?' Benjamin asked.
'You've conquered your fear of scotch,' Wolfe said. 'Now take the final plunge, my boy.'
Benjamin shrugged, took the bottle and tipped it very slowly. Despite his caution, a glut of scotch rushed into his throat. He pitched forward, coughing. When he had himself under control, he handed the bottle back to Wolfe.
'Consider yourself initiated,' said Wolfe, taking a swig himself.
Benjamin wiped the tears from his eyes. He sat looking at Wolfe, silent for a moment, then apparently made a decision.
'Arthur said something to me the night I arrived,' he said. 'Something about you. About a loss.' He hesitated a moment, then went on. 'Is that why you drink?'
Wolfe sighed. He looked at the bottle.
'Arthur was talking about my wife, I imagine,' he said very quietly. 'Cancer.'
'I'm terribly sorry,' Benjamin said. 'I didn't mean to-'
Wolfe shook his head. 'Actually, it was quite gentle, as such things go. Fairly rapid. Relatively painless.' He paused. 'Relatively,' he added, and took a drink.
