SEVENTEEN

Present Day

Sterling, Massachusetts

    We checked into the guesthouse that evening. George and Sue led Val and me to a large, palatial suite on the top floor of the brand-new three story building.

    This guesthouse had been built on the same site as the one Feret’s henchmen had blown up last year.

    “We reopened last month, and we’ve saved this room for you two to break in.” George smiled. “Before you ask, I want you to know I personally verified that the hot water functions properly.”

    “Did you include a gadget room?” I asked.

    He winked. “With an even better couch than before.”

    “Georgie, let’s leave these two alone,” Sue said. She handed us each a key. “We’ll see you at breakfast.”

    We parked ourselves at the dining table. I handed Val the copied journal and fired up my laptop. “Let’s see if we can figure this out,” I said.

    She flipped through the sheets. “Do you think it’s a cipher?”

    “It depends on the audience.”

    She frowned. “Explain.”

    “If it’s a targeted message to somebody else, then it’s encrypted, and it will be a bear for us to break. But if it’s a diary the author wants to re-read someday, it’s either just an alphabet and language we don’t recognize, or it’s encoded with a simple substitution scheme.”

    “Which do you think it is?”

    I took the journal and flipped through the pages. “It’s Madame Flora’s diary. See this word on the first page?”

    She nodded.

    “It’s also one of the first words on every few pages. It’s probably a date. Any decent encryption algorithm would have randomized it.”

    “Do you think you can figure it out?”

    I smiled. “Of course I can.”

    Famous last words. I glanced up at Val an hour later. “I’ve gotten nowhere,” I said.

    She closed her laptop. “What did you find?”

    “Nothing. I can’t find any system that uses numbers like this.”

    She frowned. “What if they’re letters? Roman numerals use letters.”

    That was interesting. I took a look at the journal again; the word I thought was a date contained characters that were also used in the text.

    I searched the Web for information on letters representing numbers. While Latin used I, V, and X to represent one, five, and ten, the more ancient Hebrew and Greek languages used their first nine letters to represent one through nine, the next nine letters to represent ten through ninety, and the next set to represent one hundred through nine hundred.

    “But these letters aren’t Roman, Greek, or Hebrew,” I said.

    There was a knock at the door, and as Val got up, I tucked the copy of the journal into my laptop bag.

    “Flora, what a surprise,” Val said. “Come on in.”

    Madame Flora frowned. “I need to talk to Scott.” She entered the room and stood in front of me, hands on her hips.

    “Hello, Madame Flora,” I said. I wondered if she felt more in control now that she had destroyed the journal.

    “Stop your investigation,” she said.

    I pointed to the chair next to me. “Let’s talk about it.”

    After she sat, I asked, “Why’s it bothering you?”

    She stared at me. “You have to ask after what you heard today?”

    “I heard that Hermann Goering joined Soul Identity and opened a soul line collection before they hung him at Nuremberg.”

    “Actually, he committed suicide,” Madame Flora said. “Just a few hours ahead of the hangman.”

    I hadn’t known that. But it didn’t really matter. “I also heard that his money and memories have gone missing, and a cryptic journal has appeared,” I said.

    “That journal doesn’t matter,” she said quickly.

    Of course it didn’t, now that she thought she had destroyed it.

    “I think the journal holds the key,” I said. “I’m going to ask Archie for it tomorrow.”

    I watched her try to hide the smile lifting the corners of her lips. “You can ask, but I can guarantee you that he won’t let you read it.”

    I couldn’t wait to wave my copy into her smug face. But only after I figured it out.

    She stared at me. “You two are in grave danger.”

    “Danger?” Val asked.

    Madame Flora faced her and spoke with an ominous voice. “Even over sixty years later, the Nazis are waiting to pounce once Hermann Goering’s belongings surface.”

    “How would they know that Soul Identity has them?” I asked.

    “They just do,” she said.

    I waited for her to elaborate.

    “If you had any sense, you’d steer clear of these dangerous people,” she said.

    “Do you think they broke in and raided Goering’s collection?” I asked.

    “I suppose it’s possible.”

    Again she had avoided a straight answer. I crossed my arms. “Then they wouldn’t be waiting to pounce, would they?”

    That seemed to catch her. “I…I don’t know.” She stared at the table for a minute. “You need to know about the mess you’re stepping into. Let me tell you how evil these Nazis are.”