“So he encoded it to keep his brother from finding it.” Jacob nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Except that it’s pretty obvious,” Lindsay said, scrolling through her phone. “I mean, anyone in those days would have known where to look. It’s tricky for us, because we might have the wrong hymnal, but Avery would have known exactly where to look. Oh, here’s the psalm!”
“Get the King James Version,” Gregory ordered, just as Aunt Susanna returned, lugging her big Catholic Study Bible.
Psalm 29:
Give unto the Lord, O ye mighty, give unto the Lord glory and strength.
Give unto the Lord the glory due unto his name; worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.
The voice of the Lord is upon the waters: the God of glory thundereth: theLord is upon many waters.
The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is full of majesty.
The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars; yea, the Lord breaketh the cedars of Lebanon.
He maketh them also to skip like a calf; Lebanon and Sirion like a young unicorn.
The voice of the Lord divideth the flames of fire.
The voice of the Lord shaketh the wilderness; the Lord shaketh the wilderness of Kadesh.
The voice of the Lord maketh the hinds to calve, and discovereth the forests: and in his temple doth every one speak of his glory.
The Lord sitteth upon the flood; yea, the Lord sitteth King forever.
The Lord will give strength unto his people; the Lord will bless his people with peace.
“That’s not exactly specific,” Darlene sighed. “So the treasure might be buried in the Exeter, or in the woods, or in the fireplace, or fed it to a unicorn.”
“You said that part of the fields flood regularly,” Jacob said, turning to me.
“Yes, but that part has been searched a dozen times with a metal detector,” I answered. “If the treasure was there, we would have found it by now.”
“Maybe it’s in the woods,” Lindsay said.
Darlene rolled her eyes. “He might as well have said, ‘I buried it somewhere in Chester.’ If he wanted to tell his mother were it was, he would have been more specific. And before you say it, no, we don’t have any cedar trees in the area.”
“Bummer,” Lindsay mumbled.
“I have to go along with Lindsay,” I said to Greg, who was studying the Psalm with a scowl. “If he was worried about Avery finding the treasure first, surely he would have made the clue a little harder to find. Avery’s dad was a deacon. Avery would have been as familiar with the hymns and the Bible as Alexander himself.”
“Yeah,” Jacob said. “But, like, did they even have codes then?”
That brought Gregory out of his reverie. He fixed the poor boy with a withering look that had even the usual oblivious Jacob looking embarrassed.
“Did they have codes?” he repeated. “Jacob, don’t you remember that class we had on George Washington’s spy network? If they had codes and counter signs back then, don’t you think they would have had them in the Civil War?”
Jacob shrugged. “Like, I guess,” he said.
Randall was about to launch into a lecture when he saw my expression. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and resumed in a milder tone.
“There were many codes used during the Civil War, mostly word substitution, symbolism, or encrypting using a common book. And the use of code wasn’t restricted to just the military – there are cases of gossipy soldiers encrypting their personal diaries to protect their careers.
“I think there is an additional code in this letter: If the intention was to keep the treasure from Avery, the hymnal clue would be too easy for him to break. But I can’t see where the other code is hidden. If it were like a Stager code, there would be an odd pattern of words. If it were Vigenère or Caesar code, there would be a string of letters somewhere and a clue word to decode it. But I don’t see either.”
“I don’t either,” Jacob said. “It is written weird, though. Like a sonnet or something, but it, like, doesn’t rhyme or anything.”
“What’s the Caesar code?” Lindsay asked.
Gregory pulled out a book and flipped it open to a page that showed a circular decoder. “It’s a letter substitution. Let’s say the letter A stood for F: in that case, Maddie would be spelt Rfiinj and Chase would be…”
He stopped, thought for a moment, then wrote “HMFXJ” on his pad of paper. He straightened, looked at the word, then at us.
I was gaping at him. Lindsay said softly, “Whoa. Dude, that was fast.”
Greg shrugged and grinned. “A simple frequency analysis will break the Caesar cipher in minutes. During the war, both sides used it, but it was so simple, it was useless. So the Union started using the Stager code while the Confederates preferred to use the Vigenère cipher, which is a little trickier.”
“How does the Vigenère code work?” Aunt Susanna asked.
He turned the page and showed us all a square filled with columns of the alphabet.
“It uses twenty-six Caesar ciphers in a sequence with different shift values and a keyword or phrase to decode it. It’s trickier to decode because simple frequency analysis can only be useful if the code keyword is really short.”
We stared at the letters in defeat.
Frowning, Darlene turned the book and leaned forward on the table to study the square. Her long nails playing over the columns, accompanied by the jingle of her bracelets, and I wondered if she was on the brink of a breakthrough. I saw Gregory watching her carefully, probably wondering the same thing.
I sat back in my chair and took a sip of my now-cold coffee. Trusty jumped up from under Aunt Susanna’s chair and wandered off to the back door. It was dark outside and I thought, I should take her out. But I didn’t want to leave yet.
I pulled the copy of the Alexander Chase letter closer and studied it. This time, instead of focusing on the words, as I normally did, I looked at the letter as a whole, as though it were simply a picture.
That’s when I saw the pattern.
My hand began to shake. It was easy to see, once you knew where to look and everything pointed to it: the odd length of the lines, the awkward phrasing, the obvious care that went into forming the lettering... The cipher had been in plain view all the time.
No one was paying attention to me. Gregory and the teens were bent over an explanation of the Stager code while Darlene whispered to Aunt Susanna. My heart pounded so that I could barely speak and, when I did, it came out in a squeak that only Aunt Susanna heard.
“I found it,” I said.
She stopped and leaned toward me.
“Found what?” she asked.
Gregory heard and turned around sharply. Shoving his glasses back up with his thumb, he whipped around the table and was looking over my shoulder before I could even begin to form the words.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“It’s the layout,” I said. “Jacob had it. It’s written weird – like a sonnet, only it isn’t a sonnet. It’s a cipher. And it’s written carefully, oddly, so that…” I took my hand and covered the paper so that only the first letter of every line was showing. “So that the cipher would fit along the side of the paper, where no one would notice it. He even emphasized the first letters ever so slightly, just in case Mary missed it.”
Lindsay gasped. Aunt Susanna put a hand over her mouth while Jacob whistled low.
I turned in my chair to grin at the wide-eyed Professor Randall.
“You were right, Professor,” I said. “Alexander did leave a message. And it’s been here the whole time.”
He nodded at me, his dark eyes shining.
It was then that Trusty, who had been pacing impatiently in front of the porch door suddenly threw herself at it in a frenzy of fury. Her barks, sharp and angry, cut through the celebration like shards of shattered glass and Aunt Susanna jumped, grabbing at her heart. Darlene, the closest to the door, leaned to peer outside. She pulled back quickly.
“Someone’s
out there!” she gasped.
Chapter 24:
Instantly, Gregory was tearing open the door, calling to Jacob. Jacob dashed for one of the cabinets, yanked open the door, and pulled out the heavy flashlight we kept there. They were out the door before I knew what was happening.
“What are they doing?”
My question came out as a panicked squeal. I was on my feet, my head and heart pounding, trying to see out into the dark.
“They’re going after the diggers,” Darlene said. By the time she finished speaking, I was out of the kitchen, heading in the opposite direction.
I raced down the hall to the office, my anxiety making me stumble when I entered the room. The gun safe was concealed behind the door, where Gregory had left a rolling chair full of books. I threw them aside, whipping through the combination with a hand so steady that it surprised me. I was all too aware that I was running out of time.
I yanked open the door and was greeted with the metallic scent of polished metal.
Uncle Michael wasn’t much of a hunter; but having served a brief stint in the military, he liked his rifles and handguns and kept a small, carefully maintained collection. I had learned to shoot while I was a girl, and as Aunt Susanna didn’t much care for the sport, she left me to take care of the collection. I hadn’t shot much since Michael’s death, but I’d kept the guns clean and always made sure that there was ammo close at hand.
I grabbed the shotgun, loaded the shells, dumped a handful into my pocket - and then nearly ran into Lindsay in the doorway. I brushed past her, leaving her staring open-mouthed as I raced through the kitchen, where Aunt Susanna was already on the phone.
It wasn’t until I was outside that I realized just how dark it was. The moon was in its last quarter and its light was barely able to penetrate the inky shadows cast by the trees.
I knew where to go. I raced for the path, taking care to keep my fingers away from the trigger as I ran.
My heart was thumping, the blood pounding audibly in my head. I was barefoot, but I barely felt the roughened earth under my feet. Up ahead, I could hear Trusty barking hysterically, then she abruptly cut off.
Gregory was shouting something. I couldn’t make out what it was. I was running faster than I’d ever done before, but it wasn’t fast enough.
I came upon the scene suddenly. Randall was pulling himself unsteadily off the ground, calling, “Jacob, stop!” in a terrible tone.
The flashlight was on the ground as though someone had just flung it away, and in the near distance, my terror-heightened senses picked up the sounds of someone running away - and then the sound of someone in pain.
Randall whipped around at my approach.
“Gregory!” I cried. “Where’s Jacob?”
I tried to push past him, but he caught my arm.
“Maddie, don’t.”
My eyes were adjusting to the dark and I could just barely make out the fresh pile of dirt. My stomach lurched so violently that I was nearly ill. Someone had been here, and I’d only just missed them.
When I tried to continue, he held on tighter.
“He’s gone, Maddie. He’s gone. Let him go.”
Gregory staggered and let go of my arm as I called out for Jacob, relieved when he answered. I bent to pick up the flashlight and played it slowly over the hole before bringing it up to Randall. It was then that I noticed the blood.
“Gregory!” I gasped, and grabbed his arm in a panic. But he shook his head.
“I’m all right,” he said, his voice thick. “Find Trusty.”
“Trusty?”
I found her, faintly moaning, just as Jacob came stumbling back through the unfamiliar terrain. Trusty was curled inches away from a large stone that anchored the ancient rock wall. I handed my gun to Greg, the flashlight to Jacob, and then gathered my faithful friend in my arms.
Darlene and Lindsay took Trusty to the emergency vet clinic while we waited in the kitchen for the police to arrive. We treated Gregory’s bloody nose, a souvenir of his brief encounter with the intruder. It took a while for the bleeding to stop and he seemed embarrassed by the attention.
“All I need is a long shower and short glass of brandy,” he said, his annoyance muffled somewhat by the cotton Aunt Susanna insisted on shoving up his nose. “Where’s the police?”
For all of Aunt Susanna’s hysteria on the phone, fifteen minutes passed before they arrived. The officer, who was familiar with our trespassing problems, told us in no uncertain terms what he thought of our trying to confront the burglar on our own.
“You were lucky to get off so easy,” he scolded, taking notes as he spoke, holding the pad out so that he could read his own writing. “Next time, call the professionals.”
“And you would have been here in time to catch them, would you?” Gregory asked, and earned a scathing glare for his trouble.
Jacob volunteered to show the officer the scene of the crime, and he reluctantly followed the teenager out into the dark. Aunt Susanna, too nervous to stand still, went out on the porch to watch.
Gregory and I sat in silence in the kitchen. He pressed a wad of paper towels against his nose and looked at the ceiling. He seemed as angry as I normally would have been.
But I wasn’t angry this time. I didn’t feel anything. It was as though I was completely numb. I shredded a stray paper towel and watched my phone, even though I knew it was too early to expect a call from Lindsay. I knew if I thought too much about what happened tonight, I would either become angry enough to do something stupid or I would break down and sob, neither of which would help.
Gregory leaned over and grabbed another wad of paper towels, muttering in an impatient undertone. His muffled voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned and pinned him with a stare.
“You should go to the hospital,” I said.
We’d had this conversation earlier, and his response was the same: a vehement shake of his head, a scowl, and, “It’s nothing, I’m alright. Anyway, there’s too much to do here.”
He threw the used paper towels into the trash with a sharp movement.
I looked away and my gaze fell on the table, where only an hour before we’d been on the verge of a breakthrough.
As though he knew my thoughts, he said, “The intruders don’t know either. They’re stabbing in the dark. They’ve figured out that there is something here, but they don’t know where. We’ve still got time.”
“Do you think they’ve figured out where the cipher is?”
“If they had, they would have cracked it by now,” he said. “These kind of ciphers are pathetically easy. We’ve got time.”
I nodded slowly. I believed him, but I knew something that he didn’t. Charlie White, the reporter, monitored all the police calls in the area and had a mole in town politics. It would be only a matter of days before word of this intrusion got out locally and from there, who knew how far this would spread.
I thought about Joe Tremonti, out in California, then shook the thought out of my mind.
One problem at a time, I told myself firmly.
I turned back to Gregory.
“We haven’t got much,” I said. “We’d better crack this quickly.”
He nodded, gingerly pulling the paper towels away from his face.
The bleeding had stopped, but his face was a mess. I grabbed a wad of paper, wet it, and then surprised him by taking hold of his chin. He tried to pull away, but I stopped him.
“Hold still,” I said firmly, and began dabbing the blood away.
Funny how this little act did so much to relax me. I suppose it was because of all the injuries on the trail, this was the most minor and the one I could do something about.
But even as I worked, a new feeling began to softly take hold of me, making me uncomfortable. It must have been the same for Gregory, because instead of teasing me or making some kind of joke, he stayed silent and looked everywhere but at me.
Then, when the blood was nearly gone and the feeling had grown too
uncomfortable to ignore in silence, I said, “That was pretty stupid, you know. Running out there unprotected like that, letting yourself get beaten up. What were you thinking?”
He shrugged, glanced around the room, before focusing his dark eyes on mine.
My breath caught.
A lock of hair had drifted across my face. Gently, Gregory reached up and tucked it behind my ear, leaving a trail of fire where his hand brushed my face.
“I was thinking,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine, “that I’d better get out there before you did.”
For the second time that night, my heart started pounding.
The Cipher:
Dearest Mother,
Your letter of the 12th arrived yesterday
And I was glad to receive it.
Any word from home is always welcome. I
Pray that you and Avery are well. I al-
So wish to thank you for your kind words of
Blessing – they are dew-drops to my soul. Marched
Long today and I am exhausted by hours
Of training and miserable Poe-like terrain. We shall meet
Johnny Rebel any day and I am itching for the introduction.
To glory we go, hungry and tired, but with
New vigor and eagerness. It may seem strange but I have no
Fear, just regret that I leave so little behind for my dearest
Mother – just the earthy good contained in my home soil.
Do pray for me, as I always do for you, knowing our God is
Just and loving and all is in His hands.
Yours, always,
Alexander.
PS: When I fear, I think on the August words in my beloved psalmery, especially no. 29. Read on this and think of me. – AC
Chapter 25:
Civil War ciphers might be easy, but Alexander’s just did not give.
Despite his injuries and the excitement, Gregory was up half the night of the accident working on it - and went right back into his office after our morning trail inspection. He was still there when I left for work.
Necessary Evil Page 23