Pfeesesnretmpfhairweooigmeennrmaenetshasdcnsiiaaieerbrnkfblelodi

Jabba exploded. “ENOUGH! Playtime’s over! This thing’s on double‑speed! We’ve got about eight minutes here! We’re looking for a number, not a bunch of half‑baked letters!”

“Four by sixteen,” David said calmly. “Do the math, Susan.”

Susan eyed David’s image on the screen. Do the math? He’s terrible at math! She knew David could memorize verb conjugations and vocabulary like a Xerox machine, but math . . . ?

“Multiplication tables,” Becker said.

Multiplication tables, Susan wondered. What is he talking about?

“Four by sixteen,” the professor repeated. “I had to memorize multiplication tables in fourth grade.”

Susan pictured the standard grade school multiplication table. Four by sixteen. “Sixty‑four,” she said blankly. “So what?”

David leaned toward the camera. His face filled the frame. “Sixty‑four letters . . .”

Susan nodded. “Yes, but they’re—” Susan froze.

“Sixty‑four letters,” David repeated.

Susan gasped. “Oh my God! David, you’re a genius!”

Chapter 121

“Seven minutes!” a technician called out.

“Eight rows of eight!” Susan shouted, excited.

Soshi typed. Fontaine looked on silently. The second to last shield was growing thin.

“Sixty‑four letters!” Susan was in control. “It’s a perfect square!”

“Perfect square?” Jabba demanded. “So what?”

Ten seconds later Soshi had rearranged the seemingly random letters on the screen. They were now in eight rows of eight. Jabba studied the letters and threw up his hands in despair. The new layout was no more revealing than the original.

P F E E S E S N

R E T M P F H A

I R W E O O I G

M E E N N R M A

E N E T S H A S

D C N S I I A A

I E E R B R N K

F B L E L O D I

“Clear as shit.” Jabba groaned.

“Ms. Fletcher,” Fontaine demanded, “explain yourself.” All eyes turned to Susan.

Susan was staring up at the block of text. Gradually she began nodding, then broke into a wide smile. “David, I’ll be damned!”

Everyone on the podium exchanged baffled looks.

David winked at the tiny image of Susan Fletcher on the screen before him. “Sixty‑four letters. Julius Caesar strikes again.”

Midge looked lost. “What are you talking about?”

“Caesar box.” Susan beamed. “Read top to bottom. Tankado’s sending us a message.”

Chapter 122

“Six minutes!” a technician called out.

Susan shouted orders. “Retype top to bottom! Read down, not across!”

Soshi furiously moved down the columns, retyping the text.

“Julius Caesar sent codes this way!” Susan blurted. “His letter count was always a perfect square!”

“Done!” Soshi yelled.

Everyone looked up at the newly arranged, single line of text on the wall‑screen.

“Still garbage,” Jabba scoffed in disgust. “Look at it. It’s totally random bits of—” The words lodged in his throat. His eyes widened to saucers. “Oh . . . oh my . . .”

Fontaine had seen it too. He arched his eyebrows, obviously impressed.

Midge and Brinkerhoff both cooed in unison. “Holy . . . shit.”

The sixty‑four letters now read:

Primedifferencebetweenelementsresponsibleforhiroshimaandnagasaki

“Put in the spaces,” Susan ordered. “We’ve got a puzzle to solve.”