Read Online The Black Cat by Martha Grimes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Martha Grimes
Tags: Mystery
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typewriter, the genius machine that had broken the German Navy’s Enigma code.
“Imagine,” said Jury, “billions of possibilities-”
“I’d rather not, I’m having a hard enough time imagining dinner. So this could encipher messages?”
Jury nodded. “Scramble plaintext into ciphertext.” He bent his head closer to it. “This machine had been commercial, you know, I mean used for other purposes. It was just that the Germans realized its potential for encrypting messages.”
“So this was what Oswald Maples worked on.”
“This or those.” Jury turned to look at the other machines housed here in what used to be the huts occupied by experts in codes and ciphers. “That’s what this arm of the War Ministry was called: GC &CS, Government Code and Cypher School. Cribs were largely guesses, guessing a word would appear in a message because past messages had used it so much. Say you sent a lot of messages to Agatha where the word ‘idiot’ popped up all the time.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“Anyone then reading a new message from you to Agatha would figure that the word ‘idiot’ would appear in the message. Thereby making it easy to decipher the message.”
“It sounds extremely complex.”
“It is. The Enigma machine had the capacity to make billions of combinations.”
“You’re really into this code and cipher stuff; you and Sir Oswald must get along like a house on fire.”
“We do.” Jury was by the large machine called the bombe, bending down to read the explanatory material. “This is interesting; this one didn’t prove a particular Enigma setting; it disproved every incorrect one.”
Hands behind him, Melrose leaned back on his heels and thought about it. “But wouldn’t it amount to the same thing? Wouldn’t you be doing that anyway?”
“What?”
“Proving. To prove a thing is, you’d be disproving what it’s not.”
“No. If that were the case, this bombe wouldn’t be disproving other possibilities.”
“Hold it.” Melrose pushed out his hand like a traffic cop. “You’re begging the question. You’re saying the bombe disproves because it disproves. That’s no argument.”
“It isn’t the way you’re putting it.”
“Okay, forget that. I don’t see how you can disprove something without assuming a proof. Take the black cat, for instance-”
“Which one?”
“Ah! That’s my point. Right now, to our knowledge there are two black cats.”
“Oh, I believe that, but-”
“Let me finish.”
Jury folded his arms across his chest. “Are you going to wipe out two years of Alan Turing’s work here?”
“The cats are Morris One, Dora’s cat; Morris Two, the pretender cat. To our knowledge, there are two because we’ve been told there are. Anything else is deduction. In order to prove Morris One is Dora’s cat, we have to disprove number two is not.”
“Can we continue this argument later? I’ve got to get back to London.”
Melrose threw up his hands. “A detective superintendent and you don’t get it!”
They were walking toward the door. “I don’t get a lot of things. I particularly don’t get how it is you know more than Alan Turing.”
“It’s a cross I bear. So, in your greater wisdom, was Morris murdered or kidnapped?”
“Kidnapped.”
“Just how do you work that out?”
“How would I have worked my way up to detective superintendent if I couldn’t?”
14
Mungo, sitting several feet from a kitchen door in a house in Belgravia, listened to the voice of Mrs. Tobias coming from the kitchen. Yelling from the kitchen was more like it.
“Look what you’ve done, my lad! Ruined my good cake! Haven’t I told you-”
Here, “my lad” came running from the kitchen, giggling, chocolate cake still in his hand and on his mouth.
This was the ignominious Jasper, who was the most loathsome child Mungo had ever known. He was twelve, and if Mungo had anything to do with it, he’d never see thirteen. Jasper had been
“Imagine,” said Jury, “billions of possibilities-”
“I’d rather not, I’m having a hard enough time imagining dinner. So this could encipher messages?”
Jury nodded. “Scramble plaintext into ciphertext.” He bent his head closer to it. “This machine had been commercial, you know, I mean used for other purposes. It was just that the Germans realized its potential for encrypting messages.”
“So this was what Oswald Maples worked on.”
“This or those.” Jury turned to look at the other machines housed here in what used to be the huts occupied by experts in codes and ciphers. “That’s what this arm of the War Ministry was called: GC &CS, Government Code and Cypher School. Cribs were largely guesses, guessing a word would appear in a message because past messages had used it so much. Say you sent a lot of messages to Agatha where the word ‘idiot’ popped up all the time.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“Anyone then reading a new message from you to Agatha would figure that the word ‘idiot’ would appear in the message. Thereby making it easy to decipher the message.”
“It sounds extremely complex.”
“It is. The Enigma machine had the capacity to make billions of combinations.”
“You’re really into this code and cipher stuff; you and Sir Oswald must get along like a house on fire.”
“We do.” Jury was by the large machine called the bombe, bending down to read the explanatory material. “This is interesting; this one didn’t prove a particular Enigma setting; it disproved every incorrect one.”
Hands behind him, Melrose leaned back on his heels and thought about it. “But wouldn’t it amount to the same thing? Wouldn’t you be doing that anyway?”
“What?”
“Proving. To prove a thing is, you’d be disproving what it’s not.”
“No. If that were the case, this bombe wouldn’t be disproving other possibilities.”
“Hold it.” Melrose pushed out his hand like a traffic cop. “You’re begging the question. You’re saying the bombe disproves because it disproves. That’s no argument.”
“It isn’t the way you’re putting it.”
“Okay, forget that. I don’t see how you can disprove something without assuming a proof. Take the black cat, for instance-”
“Which one?”
“Ah! That’s my point. Right now, to our knowledge there are two black cats.”
“Oh, I believe that, but-”
“Let me finish.”
Jury folded his arms across his chest. “Are you going to wipe out two years of Alan Turing’s work here?”
“The cats are Morris One, Dora’s cat; Morris Two, the pretender cat. To our knowledge, there are two because we’ve been told there are. Anything else is deduction. In order to prove Morris One is Dora’s cat, we have to disprove number two is not.”
“Can we continue this argument later? I’ve got to get back to London.”
Melrose threw up his hands. “A detective superintendent and you don’t get it!”
They were walking toward the door. “I don’t get a lot of things. I particularly don’t get how it is you know more than Alan Turing.”
“It’s a cross I bear. So, in your greater wisdom, was Morris murdered or kidnapped?”
“Kidnapped.”
“Just how do you work that out?”
“How would I have worked my way up to detective superintendent if I couldn’t?”
14
Mungo, sitting several feet from a kitchen door in a house in Belgravia, listened to the voice of Mrs. Tobias coming from the kitchen. Yelling from the kitchen was more like it.
“Look what you’ve done, my lad! Ruined my good cake! Haven’t I told you-”
Here, “my lad” came running from the kitchen, giggling, chocolate cake still in his hand and on his mouth.
This was the ignominious Jasper, who was the most loathsome child Mungo had ever known. He was twelve, and if Mungo had anything to do with it, he’d never see thirteen. Jasper had been
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