The Cryptographer's Dilemma

by Johnnie Alexander

  Eloise’s eyes rounded, but she didn’t say anything. Phillip could almost see the wheels whirring behind her intelligent gaze. So, she had read the sensational news reports but refused to interrupt the conversation to ask questions. A point in her favor for being well-informed and another for discretion. Both points grudgingly given.

  “A connection seems unlikely,” Richard replied. “But I suppose anything is possible. It’s up to you to find out.”

  “Now I know why you twisted my arm for this mission.” Phillip leaned back in his chair.

  “I actually had a different reason,” Richard replied. “But you were with that operation from its inception, so it shouldn’t take you long to ascertain if there is a connection.”

  “What was your reason then?”

  “We can discuss that later.” Richard opened a folder and handed two sheets of paper to each of them. “These are copies of letters that may provide national secrets to our enemies.”

  Phillip scanned the top letter. “This is a letter about a broken doll.”

  “Is it?” Richard said. “What do you think, Eloise?”

  Eloise read through both letters, taking her time before answering. “I can’t say for sure, Mr. Whitmer, but this could be an open code. What we call a jargon code. To the casual reader, this letter from Dorothy Walker says she can’t find anyone to repair a broken doll.”

  She focused again on the letter. “I suppose this could be an example of steganography.”

  “First of all, please call me Richard. Second, I studied code breaking at the academy before either of you were born,” Richard said. “Refresh my memory, please.”

  Phillip made a mental note to thank his uncle later. Though his own stint at the academy was more recent, he’d only taken a basic cryptography course and had no idea what Eloise was talking about—not that she needed to know that. Could he help it if his cases had never involved coded messages before now?

  Eloise’s eyes sparkled as her enthusiasm for her area of expertise replaced her earlier prickliness. “What we mostly do in cryptology is either encrypt a message or break the code for an encrypted message. At its simplest, that means substituting the original letters with different letters. Or numbers. The encrypted message appears to be a random collection of letters.”

  She paused as she scanned one of the letters again. “Steganography hides a message within a message. This letter seems innocent enough. But what if the dolls mean something else? Something that only the recipient would understand?”

  “Such as?” Richard prompted.

  “Perhaps the broken doll is a broken ship.”

  Phillip tossed the letters on the table. “Or maybe it’s simply a broken doll.”

  Annoyed by his casual dismissal, Eloise glared at him. “Mrs. Walker or whoever wrote this letter says she broke a doll wearing a hula grass skirt. That makes me think of Hawaii. And Hawaii makes me think of…”

  The room was deathly quiet for a moment then Phillip heaved a sigh. “Pearl Harbor.” He turned to Richard. “Who was the recipient?”

  “Both letters were addressed to someone in Buenos Aires,” Richard said. “Our wartime censors intercepted and forwarded Mrs. Walker’s letter to us. It’s dated January 27 and has a Seattle postmark. The second letter, supposedly from a Barbara Clark, was postmarked from New York in February. When it was returned as ‘Address Unknown,’ Mrs. Clark took it to her local post office director, who sent it to us.”

  “Has anyone talked to these women?” Phillip asked.

  “That’s your mission.” Richard folded his hands on the remaining files in his stack. “First, you’ll travel to Springfield, Ohio, to talk to Barbara Clark. Then you’ll need to visit Dorothy Walker in Spokane, Washington.”

  “Ohio?” Phillip narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Didn’t you say the Clark letter had a New York postmark?”

  “Another puzzle for you to solve.” Richard turned his attention to Eloise. “Do you enjoy traveling?”

  “I like seeing new sights.” Eloise appeared almost giddy at the prospect. “I’ve never been west of the Appalachian Mountains.”

  “Just hold on.” Phillip raised both his hands. “I’m a trained interrogator. I can do these interviews by myself.”

  “You’re going to talk to these women about their dolls? I think not.” Richard tapped the folders. “These are your cover identities.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Phillip scoffed. “We’re posing as a married couple. Like in that Clark Gable movie.” Not even for his uncle would Phillip travel from one end of the country to the other under that scenario.

  “I saw that movie,” Eloise exclaimed. “It Happened One Night, right?”

  “Right.” Phillip shot an aha look at his uncle. “I suppose next you’ll hand me a clothesline and a blanket to hang between our beds.”

  Eloise’s eyes widened. Good. If his comment shocked her, maybe she’d quit.

  “I can’t pretend we’re married,” she stammered. “We can’t—I won’t.”

  “See, Uncle? It’s not just me.”

  “Calm down, both of you,” Richard admonished. “I personally selected you—the two of you—for this mission because of your particular skills. This has nothing to do with romance, real or feigned.” He slid folders toward each of them, a Cheshire cat grin on his face. “But to avoid any hint of impropriety, you are traveling as brother and sister. You’re not expected to share the same room, so it’s up to you whether you take a clothesline and blanket.”

  Phillip didn’t know whether to laugh or throw a temper tantrum. Not that the latter would ever work with his uncle. He gestured toward Eloise. “She’s my sister?”

  “To ease the complications of travel and whenever else such duplicitousness is beneficial, yes.”

  Another sister. Just what he didn’t need.

  But when Uncle Richard said “jump,” the appropriate response from his underlings—which at the FBI included Phillip—was “how high?” He’d go on this mission with his pretend sister. The second it was over, however, he expected Uncle Richard to keep his promise.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Eloise pressed her lips together as the reality of Richard’s announcement settled within her. Phillip didn’t seem any happier about the proposed arrangement than she, but he had the luxury of being related to the person in charge of overseeing their mission—a luxury she didn’t have.

  Not that anyone cared, but the thought that someone as full of himself as Phillip Clayton could ever be her brother seemed like a sick cosmic joke. She and Allan had a special relationship, one born from loss and instability. They counted on each other when it became clear they couldn’t count on anyone else—not even their mother. The loss of Allan had left her bereft and alone, blasting a hole into her heart that would never heal.

  And now she was supposed to pretend that she had a similar relationship with this arrogant man who clearly didn’t want her as a partner? She wasn’t sure she could even pretend to like him, let alone think of him as a brother. Under such circumstances, how would they fool anyone into believing they were related?

  “I trust the arrangement will be suitable to you, Eloise.” Richard’s tone seemed genuinely warm. “It’s unusual, I know, but the pretense will raise less questions about your relationship. You may encounter strangers who would find it odd for two single people such as yourselves to be traveling together. A sibling relationship allows you to look out for one another without raising undue suspicion.”

  “I’m not sure who would be paying that much attention to us,” Eloise said. “Why do we have to tell anyone anything?”

  “Phillip’s very presence might raise questions,” Richard said. “Some folks may wonder why he isn’t in uniform, especially when he doesn’t have an obvious disability. Many young men his age have already enlisted. Those who aren’t overseas are in training camps, each one doing his part to win this war. People may ask, ‘Why isn’t he?’ I don’t fault such people for being curious, but t
hey can’t know he’s a government agent.”

  As his uncle talked, Phillip turned his head, and his shoulders tensed. Eloise sensed she’d gotten a glimpse inside him that he meant to keep to himself. He wanted to be one of those young men who were fighting. More than that, he was ashamed not to be. Serving in the States as a trained FBI agent apparently wasn’t enough for him. But why not?

  “Having a sister by his side could help allay suspicions about him,” Richard continued. “For your part, you’ll have someone by your side who can keep away any unwanted attention.”

  “Unwanted attention?” Eloise asked.

  “All sorts of men are attracted to pretty young women.” Richard gave her a warm smile. “Phillip can ensure no one gets too, shall we say, amorous.”

  Heat crept up Eloise’s throat and flushed her cheeks. She caught Phillip’s amused gaze, and he rolled his eyes as if to make gentle fun of his uncle. She held back a nervous chuckle while, at a deeper level, sensing the gesture—simple as it was—acted as a single thread pulling them together.

  If Richard had noticed Phillip’s subtle eye-rolling, he chose to ignore it. “At the very least, presenting yourself as siblings may keep any uncomfortable questions to a minimum.”

  “I know how to handle unwanted advances,” Eloise said. Her brother hadn’t always been around to put a handsy man in his place, and she’d managed just fine, thank you very much.

  “I believe that.” Phillip leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “Look, I’m not crazy about this idea either. But, like it or not, it has merit. Traveling across the country can have enough pitfalls without adding any unnecessary complications.”

  “Have you done this kind of subterfuge before?” Eloise asked him.

  “Can’t say that I have. Until now, my partners have been men.” Phillip opened the folder Richard had placed in front of him as he continued. “We pose as salesmen—that’s almost always the best cover. Though I’ve also pretended to be a newspaper reporter. Another time I went undercover as a hobo. Whatever works for the mission.”

  A hobo? Eloise didn’t know whether she could believe him, though she supposed anything was possible. The world had gone topsy-turvy when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. It was as if everyone had followed Alice down her rabbit hole and were trying to make sense of the nonsensical.

  Only a few months ago, Eloise had been teaching high school algebra, geometry, and trigonometry. Now she was preparing to decipher a strange letter, which might or might not be written in code, and taking on a new identity while she traveled with a stranger to investigate a possible traitor. So much change in such a short amount of time. A span that included overwhelming grief and tremendous challenges.

  “I suppose we can be estranged siblings if that would make things easier for you.” He held up a driver’s license. “I’m now Phillip Carter. That should be easy to remember.”

  Eloise opened her folder. A driver’s license and social security card rested on top of other papers. Each one displayed her name as Eloise Carter. The personal data on the license matched her own—height, weight, date of birth.

  The top document provided a bio that listed the names of her fictional parents and one sibling. Phillip Carter.

  Never!

  Eloise read from the sheet. “I’m still a graduate of Wellesley. Major in math, minor in music. I’m surprised this information is all the same.”

  “Cardinal rule of deception,” Phillip said. “Keep the falsehood as close to the truth as possible. You’re familiar with the campus. The professors. No one can trip you up.”

  “Then why is my hometown different?”

  Phillip exchanged a glance with his uncle. “My guess is that you come from a place where everybody knows everybody else.”

  “True.”

  “That’s the reason.”

  Eloise nodded, though his answer didn’t explain what she was supposed to do if she met someone from their supposed hometown. What if she said something wrong? Codes she understood. Deception with others—that would not be easy.

  Richard removed the sheet of biographical information from Eloise’s folder to reveal a printed itinerary. “Phillip has other obligations for the next few days. While he’s preoccupied, you’ll be going to FBI school.”

  Eloise scanned the itinerary. Tradecraft and investigative technique classes in the mornings. Self-defense and weapons training in the afternoons. A feeling of inadequacy, bordering on panic, washed over her. How could she possibly learn everything expected of her in such a short amount of time? She pushed back from the table, hand on her chest, shoulders gripped with tension.

  “If I didn’t believe in you,” Richard said, “I wouldn’t have selected you.”

  Eloise met his gaze and focused on the kindness in his eyes. “Perhaps you made a mistake.”

  “My uncle doesn’t make mistakes.” Phillip’s quiet tone softened his words. Eloise stared at him, and he grinned. “At least he’s never confessed to any.”

  An unexpected stirring, a feeling she’d never experienced before, pulsated deep inside her. A feeling she didn’t want to experience, not at this time in her life and definitely not with Phillip. Perhaps a sensation she was misinterpreting, one born from grief and disappointments and a desire to do what was asked of her despite her fear that she’d fail.

  And yet…another thread, one created by Phillip’s teasing grin and her odd reaction, connected them. Perhaps enough threads would pull them together to ease her discomfort with him. She hoped so. Otherwise, the next few weeks would be miserable.

  “I confess my mistakes to God,” Richard said with a good-natured laugh. “That seems sufficient. Unless there are any questions, that concludes our business for today.” He handed Eloise a card. “Be at this address tomorrow morning at eight sharp and report to room seventy. Your instructor will meet you there. And if you gain any insights to those letters, share them only with Phillip or me. No one else under any circumstances.”

  “Of course,” Eloise agreed as she scanned the card, which listed the address for the FBI training academy at the marine base in Quantico.

  “Pack a bag because you’ll need to stay at one of the dormitories on base during your training. All the arrangements have been made. Any questions?” Richard’s gaze took in both of them.

  “No, sir,” Phillip said, and Eloise echoed him though she had a slew of questions she didn’t know how to ask.

  “Good. My contact information is in your folder. Now, I must get back to my office. Until tomorrow.” With that, Richard left them alone.

  Eloise slid the new driver’s license and social security card into a pocket of her handbag and closed the folder. She was eager to return to the room she shared with another cryptanalyst to review the contents and pack her suitcase. Sensing Phillip’s gaze, she raised her eyes to his.

  “You must feel like you’ve been thrown into the deep end of a pool,” he said. “I guess you have.”

  “Thankfully, I’m a strong swimmer.”

  By the expression on his face, her retort amused him. “Then I guess you don’t need any advice from me.” He stood and gathered his folder.

  Eloise tried, but she couldn’t let it go. If she didn’t ask him, she’d be awake all night wondering what he hadn’t said. “I’m intrigued. What advice do you have?”

  His eyes sparkled, as if he’d known she wouldn’t be able to resist his baiting. In that instant, he reminded her of Allan. That slightly superior yet good-humored smirk. The unspoken gotcha!

  Sharp grief pierced her heart like a freshly honed dagger. She tensed her facial muscles so Phillip wouldn’t notice her sudden sorrow. She didn’t want his sympathy or to give him any reason to remove her from this mission. Because she wanted to do this. She needed to do this. For her brother and, she admitted, for herself.

  “Learn everything they teach you,” Phillip said. “Take it all in. But—and this is the most important part—be who you are.”

  “But
I’m supposed to be your sister. To play a role.”

  “Yes. And no.” He returned to his seat, seemingly eager to impart his wisdom—a wisdom Eloise coveted. “You’re you. A bright and attractive young woman with a dollop of spunk tossed in. That’s you. And that’s Eloise Carter. Don’t turn her into something she’s not or something you aspire to be. She’s you. Be you.”

  Was his advice valid? Or meant to give her a false sense of security so she would fail? She searched his eyes for any hint of duplicity and found none.

  But why would she? He was a trained agent. Trained to lie and to deceive. How could she ever trust him?

  CHAPTER SIX

  The days of training went by in a blur. For the first week, Eloise attended a personalized series of classes taught by different instructors at the FBI academy. She learned about surveillance and interrogation techniques but also tradecraft activities. She found them interesting but doubted she’d ever be in a situation that required that kind of knowledge.

  She’d been transferred to the FBI to help decipher what may or may not be a jargon code and to interview two women who might or might not be involved in sending traitorous information to the enemy. How could either of those tasks require her to know how to tail someone without getting caught or the various methods for marking a drop site? The one-on-one training was intense, but she passed most of her tests with flying colors. The session on following someone without being spotted took more practice than she anticipated. What the instructor called cat-and-mouse training, which included spotting and losing a tail, continued throughout her training period.

  On the first day, after a half-hour break for lunch in the training academy cafeteria, Eloise had walked to the firing range for her marksmanship lessons. She’d never handled a gun before and prayed she’d never be placed in the position to use one against another person. Her first lesson was an abysmal failure, and the instructor, a Lieutenant Boyd, didn’t offer her any encouragement. The heavy Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum with its long barrel was difficult to hold and more difficult to aim. Bracing against the expected kickback, an unexpected shock when she first fired the weapon, adversely affected her aim. But relaxing her stance seemed impossible.