Page 2 of Forging Caine

“What did you figure out?”

Her eyes lit up the way they always did when she was about to launch into a story about her traveling days with her parents. “When I was fifteen, we did a tour of The National Museum of Computing, north of London. They’ve got all these historic computers, but the real highlight was an Enigma machine. You know, the—”

“Machine that coded Nazi messages in World War II.”

“Exactly!” She popped a bubble. “While we were there, I met this older guy who was really into codebreaking. He taught me some stuff and we stayed in touch after. He used to send me little cyphers for my birthday, so I sent him a photo of the code when I got stumped. That’s okay, right?”

I nodded in the sliver of time she took to breathe.

“He gave me a couple of clues, and I thought we could start with a simple letter substitution.” She tapped the sheet she’d moved toward me, on which she’d listed each of the shapes. “There are twenty-seven shapes, so I’m betting each one’s a letter, plus the most common one represents a space.”

“Letter substitution was the first thing you tried, but you said it wouldn’t work.”

“Turns out, that’s only step one. Step two is where the real magic happens.”

We got down to work, assigning values to each shape and jotting them onto her working copy. She also rummaged through the cupboards to find snacks, teased me about how much food had arrived with Antonio’s grocery order yesterday, and told four different travel stories which were almost related to what we were doing.

The truth was, figuring out the code hadn’t been my priority. It was an excuse to have her visit and chat my ear off to distract me from watching the clock for Antonio’s return.

After a couple of hours, we finished step one.

Lucy tossed a fresh piece of gum into her mouth and rubbed her hands together. “Now, we need to find the key word.”

My phone buzzed with another notification from the concierge desk. Swiping through to the front desk camera, I spied Elliot Skinner carrying—holy shit, my stomach did a cartwheel—he was carrying a Bankers Box.

Was this really it? Was this a case?

I tapped the authorization button and put up a finger. “Hold that thought.”

“Will do, boss.”

Shaking my head on my way to the door, I muttered the line Lucy had me repeating at least weekly. “Not your boss, Luce.”

As he stepped out of the elevator, Elliot lifted the box toward me. “I come bearing gifts.”

He wore a dark suit with a white shirt, highlighting his warm brown skin. He sported the same goatee as the last time I’d seen him but had switched his hair from short sponge twists to a low fade with waves.

I took the box from him, surprised at how heavy it was. “How long are you staying?”

“The gift comes with conditions, but I’ll be quick.”

“Signature?”

He followed me in and closed the door. “Three of them.”

I tipped the box slowly from side to side. A subtle whooshing noise and shift in the balance hinted at paperwork. What could it possibly be? A case. It had to be a case.

We walked from the foyer together, into the large, open living space. Lucy looked up from her work with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” said Elliott. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“This is—”

“Lucy Chapman, Sam’s best friend.” She was out of her seat and around the table, hand out to Elliot. “And you’re the secret G-man she keeps talking about without telling me the juicy details, right?”

Elliott’s eyebrows rose. “Lucy? Sam told me about you once.”

I hefted the Bankers Box onto the table. “I did?”

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