The Unbreakable Code

by Jennifer Chambliss Bertman

  “Maybe they’ll be obvious when we decode what the letters stand for.” Emily continued marking hatch marks underneath each letter that appeared.

  “Hold on. Can I see this?” James took the notebook and scrutinized the grid. “It reminds me of a word search—an even rectangle, every letter perfectly spaced. And look—” With a finger, he drew a circle around a column with the letters t-h-e. “I found the word the.”

  “And next to it,” Emily said, circling the next column over. “If you read it from the bottom it says l-o-o-k, look.”

  “I don’t think this is a substitution cipher. If you go down the next column, there’s the word out. If you read up and down those three columns, it says the lookout. It’s like a letter maze.”

  “What happens if we read it starting from the side?” Emily asked.

  Together they read out loud, “Follow Columbus to where the lookout stood.”

  * * *

  In Mr. Quisling’s class that afternoon, Emily and James scrutinized their teacher’s behavior for signs that he’d seen Coolbrith’s latest quest challenge, but he gave nothing away. Emily certainly wasn’t going to ask him about it. She assumed he had set a notification for Coolbrith’s posts, since he’d found the previous books so quickly, and she hoped this latest one would follow the same pattern.

  Emily and James agreed to meet after school by the side door with the gummed-over lock, since that was the closest exit to where they had to catch the bus up to Coit Tower. Emily was eager to get there and find the hidden book, and she assumed James felt the same way, but it surprised her to see him tearing around the corner with a huge smile on his face, Steve flopping every which way as he ran.

  “GUESS WHAT?!” he shouted, still twenty-five lockers away. A young teacher popped her head out a classroom door and said, “Who’s yelling like a deranged monkey? Slow down, slow down!”

  James reduced his speed to a fast-paced walk. When he reached Emily, he looked back to where the teacher had been and said, “I wonder if it would have been okay if I’d yelled like a deranged rooster.”

  “Why were you yelling like a deranged monkey?” Emily asked.

  James smiled so big, you’d think someone had gifted him with a new computer. “I figured it out,” he said.

  “Figured what out?” They’d solved the Book Scavenger clue together, so Emily knew that wasn’t what he was talking about.

  “The unbreakable code!”

  CHAPTER

  35

  “SHUT UP,” Emily said.

  “I did!”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “I’m totally serious! Want to see?”

  “But I just saw you in Mr. Quisling’s class sixth period,” Emily said. “You hadn’t solved it then, right?”

  “Nope.” James couldn’t stop grinning. “We watched a movie during health.”

  “People have been trying to figure out this code for one hundred and sixty years, and you solved it during seventh-period health?”

  James shrugged. “It was a boring movie.”

  “How … what … I…”

  Emily didn’t even know where to begin. She’d been daydreaming about figuring out a puzzle that had long been considered impossible to solve. Of course, in these daydreams she was the one who saw how the final pieces fit into place. If she was very honest with herself, underneath the smile she flashed James, there was a kernel of disappointment. Maybe a full-blown popcorn-sized piece of disappointment. She was tempted to say, Why couldn’t you wait for me? But then she remembered all the hours she’d studied the grid of letters by herself, scribbling different cipher possibilities in her notebook. If the solution had started to materialize for her during one of those moments, she doubted that she would have been able to put on her puzzle-solving brakes and wait for James. They had worked together, she reminded herself. James only did the last little bit on his own.

  James was her best friend. Emily flicked the popcorn of disappointment into her mental trash can. “So what does it say? How did you solve it? I’m dying to know.”

  James tugged his balled-up poncho from his backpack and shook it out. “We don’t want to miss the bus to Coit Tower. I’ll tell you on the way.”

  The bus curved around the ivy-covered side of Telegraph Hill, taking them to the tippy top where Coit Tower gleamed white against the stormy sky. Emily bent over her notebook and watched James re-create how he’d solved the unbreakable code.

  “In health class, I was thinking about how when we first tried the keyword cipher as a solution, we assumed the letters had been written in order from left to right, top to bottom, the way we normally read. But in the Book Scavenger clue we solved this morning, the message read from right to left going up and down the columns. That made me think about reading Chinese—you read in columns from right to left—and if this map was made by a Chinese man in 1850, then maybe he would have put the letters in the order he was most used to reading. If you write the letters as they appear in the grid columns from right to left, you have this.”

  He wrote the letters in her notebook.

  X T D F R E T R A A A H S T M B E U P I R M P I

  James flipped back through the pages of Emily’s notebook to where she’d written out a cipher using hope as a keyword:

  A

  B

  C

  D

  E

  F

  G

  H

  I

  J

  K

  L

  M

  H

  O

  P

  E

  A

  B

  C

  D

  F

  G

  I

  J

  K

  N

  O

  P

  Q

  R

  S

  T

  U

  V

  W

  X

  Y

  Z

  L

  M

  N

  Q

  R

  S

  T

  U

  V

  W

  X

  Y

  Z

  “If you use this as your key to decipher the letters in this order, it reads:

  X T H I R D T R E E E A S T O F D U C K R O C K.

  “x third tree east of duck rock?” Emily read aloud.

  James nodded. “We almost had it before; we just weren’t deciphering the letters in the right order.”

  “So these are directions,” Emily said. “The X is the treasure, and we must have to go to the third tree east of duck rock, whatever that means.” Emily leaned back in her seat. “I can’t believe this.”

  James had really done it: The unbreakable code had been broken. And what was more, if they could figure out what the directions meant, then maybe they would find the treasure, too.

  The bus slowed to the stop in front of Coit Tower. Emily held her umbrella outside the bus first to open it, then exited underneath. With his poncho on, James jumped off the step and landed in a puddle with a splash.

  The tower itself was set back from the parking lot and up several flights of stairs. Cypress trees flanked the monument on either side. In the middle of the parking lot was a round planting bed with a large statue of a man wearing a cape.

  Emily shook away thoughts of duck-shaped rocks and Gull Island. This might be their only chance to uncover Coolbrith’s identity.

  There were a few cars parked in the lot, but not many, and because of the rain nobody else was standing around like they were. The two other people who had gotten off the bus had already crossed the parking lot and were trudging up the stairs to the entrance of the tower.

  “Do you think Mr. Quisling’s been here yet?” Emily asked. She had to shout a little to be heard over the rain.

  James shrugged. “I can’t imagine he would have been able to leave school before we
did.”

  “Let’s try to find the book before he shows up so we know what area to stake out. Coolbrith’s clue said, Follow Columbus to where the lookout stood. Do you think Columbus is inside the tower?”

  “I think he’s right here,” James said, shielding his face from the rain as he pointed up.

  It turned out the giant statue was of Christopher Columbus.

  “Okay, well, that was easy. So if we follow him, what does that mean? Stand behind him?”

  A circular sidewalk surrounded the planting bed that held the statue. They walked around the ring until they stood behind Columbus, but there wasn’t anything there.

  “Maybe follow means to go where he’s looking,” James said.

  They slapped through the wet parking lot to the outer edge, where a sidewalk and fence bordered the steep hillside that dropped down below. Every few feet along the sidewalk, there were posts that looked like oddly shaped parking meters, but Emily realized they were viewfinders. If this had been a clear day, there were probably spectacular views of the city below and the water beyond. As it was now, it was hard to make out anything through the curtain of gray rain other than the rooftops, trees, and bushes downhill. Directly in front of them on the ground in between the sidewalk and fence was a large plaque. Emily bent down to read it. It said this had been the point where a lookout had stood during the Gold Rush to raise signals for incoming ships.

  “The clue said where the lookout stood. This must be it, James,” she said.

  They started hunting nearby, looking for the green pouch.

  “There it is.” James had spotted the bag tucked next to a bush.

  Emily looked around the parking lot—they were still the only ones there. “Okay, so we don’t want to take it. But we need to find a place to hide where we can keep an eye on the pouch.”

  There weren’t any crowds of people loitering around that they could blend in with. The parking lot in general was a wide-open space. The only viable option was to cross back toward Coit Tower and stand next to the public restroom at the base of the long flight of stairs that led to the entrance. The restroom was its own little building, a futuristic dark green, oval-shaped toilet pod with a door that slid open to the side.

  James tried to wipe away the water streaming down his face, but he only smeared the wetness around because his plastic poncho was soaked. “To the toilet pod.”

  They stood silently behind the restroom. Trees sheltered them from the pattering rain, so Emily closed her umbrella and hugged her arms around herself in an attempt to keep warm. She couldn’t believe how chilly San Francisco could be when it set its mind to it.

  Minutes ticked by, and Emily wondered if this was pointless. Maybe nobody would come. They could be in their dry apartments studying the unbreakable code directions and plotting how to find the long-lost treasure.

  James nudged her and nodded toward a set of stairs on the hillside closest to them. Mr. Quisling’s distinctive neon-green rain slicker was making its way to the top. His hood dripped water past his nose as he looked down at the steps he climbed.

  Emily and James retreated farther behind the bathroom. When he reached the top of the stairs, Mr. Quisling turned toward the plaque, not looking once in Emily and James’s direction, much to their relief. Obviously he’d solved the Book Scavenger clue before coming and knew exactly where to go. When he reached the plaque, he began scanning the area around it.

  “He spotted it,” James said.

  They watched their teacher pick up the pouch, then turn and cross the parking lot, headed in their direction. They concealed themselves completely behind the bathroom, peeking out after a minute to see Mr. Quisling’s back as he climbed the stairs up to the Coit Tower entrance.

  “I bet he’s taking it inside to solve the book cipher where it’s dry,” Emily said.

  “The inside of the tower is pretty small. It would be hard to follow him without being noticed,” James said. “If he’s doing this for Coolbrith, then he’ll return the pouch when he’s done, like at the redwood park. That was one of the rules of the quest. Let’s wait here until he comes back.”

  As much as Emily wanted to get out of the rain, James’s suggestion made sense. She bounced her knees off each other, and they waited. It felt like an hour, but probably less than ten minutes passed before Mr. Quisling came back down the main stairs, crossed to the outer edge of the parking lot, and replaced the pouch where he’d found it. Emily wondered what Coolbrith’s message had said this time. With the rain and distance between them, she couldn’t make out Mr. Quisling’s expression. Their teacher left down the stairs he’d come up.

  And now: more waiting. Would Coolbrith come? Had this all been meaningless?

  “There are staircases all around Telegraph Hill,” James said. “So Coolbrith could come from any direction. If he comes.”

  They continued to wait silently. The rain danced a staccato tune around them. Emily was on the verge of saying maybe we should leave when a man in a hooded black rain slicker stepped out from the top of a staircase across the parking lot from where Mr. Quisling had left.

  “James,” Emily whispered.

  “I see him.”

  Like Mr. Quisling, the man walked straight to the plaque, but he didn’t hesitate in locating the green pouch.

  “It’s Coolbrith!” Emily said.

  CHAPTER

  36

  “CAN YOU SEE HIS FACE?” Emily asked.

  James shook his head. “The hood makes it hard, and all this rain.”

  “At least we don’t have to worry about a fire today,” Emily said. “Good thing water isn’t flammable.”

  The man bent into a crouch near the hidden book. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black cylindrical object.

  “What’s he doing?” Emily asked. “What is that?”

  The cylinder opened into an umbrella. “Oh,” Emily said.

  “A little late for that, Coolbrith,” James muttered. “You’re already drenched.”

  The man held the handle to the open umbrella in the crook of his elbow as he busied himself with something they couldn’t see. Tying a shoe? Then he stood and headed back to the stairs he’d come up, closing his umbrella as he walked. Emily squinted, trying to make out his profile or any distinguishing detail, but he was too far away, and the hood and rain obscured too much of his face.

  “We need to follow him,” Emily said. “We’ve got to see who that is.”

  Emily and James were halfway across the parking lot to the stairs Coolbrith went down when there was a loud pop behind them. They spun around. A white cloud rose from where the green pouch had been hidden.

  “Something exploded!” James said.

  Flames flashed bright against the foliage.

  “In the rain? How is that possible?” Emily asked.

  “Maybe water can be flammable after all,” James mused.

  Emily stared at the small blaze. The rain was winning the battle of fire versus water. If Coolbrith had started another fire, then he obviously didn’t care about what he had done to Hollister and his store. Emily pressed her lips into a firm line of determination.

  “Hurry, before he gets away.” She ran to the path Coolbrith had taken.

  The staircase zigzagged down a hill. The already gray day darkened under trees. Large-leafed plants leaned in, enveloping them in a jungle-like world that seemed so different than the rest of the city. Pathways jutted off on either side, leading to the private entrances of homes planted into the steep hillside.

  Rain pattered above them on branches and leaves, whispering, Hurry, Hurry, as they scurried from cement steps to dirt path to brick steps. Emily tried not to lose sight of Coolbrith, but they had to be careful, too. The steps were narrow and slick.

  She could see the black hood flights below. Coolbrith wasn’t running—he must not have realized they were following him, even though their wet steps sounded like shouts to Emily. Every so often water burst through gaps in the treetops, like a
faucet.

  Coolbrith reached the bottom, where a road interrupted the staircase before it continued down the next stretch of hill. He stopped and looked left and right for cars. They were so close. A few more stairs and Emily would have a good look at his face.

  But then her foot shot forward. She grabbed the railing to slow her fall, crying, “WHOA!” before she realized what she was doing. Her bottom hit the ground, and a thunderbolt shot up her spine.

  James helped her up. Coolbrith ran across the street.

  “He heard me,” Emily said.

  “We can still catch him.”

  They took the steps faster and crossed the road, then down the next staircase. Emily concentrated on planting her feet solidly so she wouldn’t fall again and kept one hand on the guardrail.

  Coolbrith was about to dart across the next road down the hill when a passing car blared its horn. He jumped back and ran down the street a ways before crossing. When Emily and James reached the bottom of the stairs, Coolbrith was a dark shadow in the folds of rain, disappearing behind a building on the other side of the street.

  Water splashed their legs as they stomped through puddle-filled potholes. They went down the next staircase and found it soon diverged. One direction led down cement stairs, and another down a dirt path that looked like a detour through gardens. Both ways turned so you couldn’t see what was ahead—or below, as the case may be—which meant they couldn’t tell which way Coolbrith had gone.

  “Footprint,” James panted, pointing to the mud on the side of the dirt path. So that was the way they went.

  Soon, they turned a corner and found themselves in a small clearing with a bench and a graffitied parking meter randomly stuck in a mound of shrubs. It was a dead end, and Coolbrith was nowhere in sight. They’d picked the wrong path.

  James side-kicked the trunk of a tree. The branches erupted in a flurry of colorful feathers as parrots took flight, their jewel tones bright against the dreary sky.