The Bronze Horseman, Part 12
The Adventure of the Missing Bronze Horseman
A Michelle Kwan Mystery by Alice Louise et. al.
Part 12, by Mathman
Michelle and Alexei were escorted, none too gently, from the car, up the steps, and into the reception hall of the NSA building. After a quick consultation among the internal security staff, they were photographed and fingerprinted, then frog-marched down a series of corridors, past several security check points, and finally thrust through the door of a particularly unassuming office at the end of a long but brightly lighted hallway.
Michelle glanced about her. Mathman's office proved to be half computer lab, half shrine to Michelle Kwan. Michelle's eyes followed the line of life-sized posters of her that covered three of the four walls. Each one was precisely 152 centimeters by 94 centimeters, in accordance with the golden ratio of one plus the square root of five to two. Spaced exactly 25.4 centimeters apart, they traced Michelle’s career from Pocahontas to Scheherazade. In a jumbled heap in a far corner were three Fields Medals, presumably awarded to Mathman under various aliases.
Mathman looked up from his desk.
“Michelle,” he gasped, “it really IS you.” -- and fainted dead away.
Oh brother, thought Michelle, we don’t have time for this. She picked up a vase of flowers from the corner of the desk and emptied it over Mathman’s head. Artificial flowers and little glass marbles bounced off his head and rolled across the floor. But it did the trick, as Mathman slowly regained consciousness.
“Michelle,” he mumbled, genuflecting.
“Oh, get up and stop acting stupid,” said Michelle. “We came here for your help. This is my friend, Alexei Yagudin.”
Of course Mathman was well acquainted with the career of the Russian star -- after all, he had won as many world championships as Michelle had -- and he shook his hand warmly.
Michelle gave Mathman the briefest of summaries of their situation and produced the coded message:
46385039563281947329523165099453765093423
95847736652439685774635455524069583543867
84326546656487706988354622735314638673934
75649903895647213749507650084637643368457
75640957463958649306576673421875643865719
64287476453374465438576396004585763446586
85746967867325467532658665539585652218594
756483975694653968753647602747
“So what do you think, Mathman,” asked Michelle. “Is it really a code? Can you decode it?”
“It’s not a code, its a cipher,” replied Mathman. “A code is based on a secret agreement on the part of the two parties. ‘One if by land, two if by sea.’ That’s a code. It can’t be broken by cryptanalysis. A cipher is a substitution of letters or numbers according to a specific formula. Every cipher can be broken in principle if the message is long enough.”
“Well, never mind that, Mathman,” Michelle said impatiently. “Can you break this ‘cipher’ or not?”
“Well,” answered Mathman, “it’s obviously a Rivest, Shamir and Adleman, or RSA Public Key cipher. See these 30 digits down at the bottom? That’s the “public key.” Every member of the network has access to the public key, and in principle the message can be deciphered with this information alone.”
“In principle?” asked Alexei, joining in now for the first time.
“Yes, Alexei,” responded Mathman, “in the sense that there is a well defined algorithm to produce the plaintext from the ciphertext. The advantage to this method is that if a particular agent is captured or killed before he can carry out the encrypted instructions, another member of the network can step in without extensive rebriefing. But without the contributions of the ith and jth private keys, when operative i is communicating with operative j, it takes an impractically large amount of computer time -- weeks, perhaps, to do all of the calculations.”
“Well, we don’t have weeks, Mathman,” explained Michelle. ”The long program in the Friendship Games is Saturday, and if we don’t have this all cleared up by then, and the Bronze Horseman returned, I think that something terrible is going to happen.”
“Fortunately, Michelle,” Mathman said, “I have just been working on a new subroutine that ought to speed up the computations considerably. This will be a good chance to test it.”
Mathman took the piece of paper from Michelle and ran it through his scanner. He typed in a command and pressed “enter.” Immediately the printer came on line, printing out a series of letters.
“Hmm,” said Mathman, still looking at the computer screen. “0.08 seconds. I still have some work to do on the program, I see.”
But Michelle and Alexei were looking at the printout.
“Mathman,” Alexei said in bewilderment. “This is just a bunch of gibberish!”
Indeed, the printed message was:
EM JUN MGO WONM AK METON,
EM JUN MGO JATNM AK METON,
EM JUN MGO UDO AK JENRAT,
EM JUN MGO UDO AK KAAZENGFONN,
EM JUN MGO OQAHG AK WOZEOK,
EM JUNE MGO OQAHG AK EFHYORIZEMS,
EM JUN MGO NQYEFD AK GAQO,
EMJUN MGO JEFMOY AK RONUEY.
Michelle looked at Mathman suspiciously.
“Very funny, Mathman,” she said in annoyance, “but where’s the plaintext?”
“Oh,” Mathman answered, “that’s all this decryption program can do, separate the message into English words with a random assignment of letters. Now we have to use probabilistic techniques.”
“Well,” said Michelle, “I don’t see how that’s any better than those stupid numbers.”
“Oh, its much better,“ was the answer. “Not only is the message divided naturally into words, but look at this -- each work can actually be pronounced. Sort of. You need a little imagination for MGO and JATNM. But that means that vowels have been substituted for vowels and consonants for consonants. Otherwise you'd have words with no vowels and you couldn't pronounce it, like xcprtzf or tschrnchv.”
Michelle looked again at the still-encrypted message which Vera had given her -- was it only yesterday? Probabilistic techniques?
“Well, let’s see,” Michelle thought out loud. “I know that E is the most common letter in English, so... Hah, the letter O occurs 22 times in this message -- more than any other letter. So let's go with O for E.”
“OK,” added Alexei. “And now the word MGO occurs 8 times and so does JUN. The most common 3-letter word in English is THE. Since O is really E, MGO must be THE. So M is T and G is H.”
Michelle took up the analysis again: "OK Now. The first word in every line, EM, is really _T. So it must be IT or AT. If we try IT, then each line starts with
IT _ _ _ THE
and the middle letter is a vowel, not e or i.”
"IT WAS THE...!" shouted Alexei. “You know, this would be easier for me if it was in Russian.”
“But then you'd be on your own,” Michelle laughed. “Two heads are better than one. OK, now we know we know three of the vowels, A, E, and I. Since O is much more common than U, ciphertext A is probably plaintext O. That means that AK is either "of, "or," or "on." Let's try "of" first. So if we put in all the letters we know so far, let's see now..."
IT WAS THE _EST OF TI_ES,
IT WAS THE WO_ST OF TI_ES.
IT WAS THE A_E OF WIS_O_,
IT WAS THE A_E OF FOO_ISH_ESS.
IT WAS THE E_O_H OF _E_IEF,
IT WAS THE E_O_H OF I_ _ _E_U_IT_....
IT WAS THE S_ _I_ _ OF _O_E,
IT WAS THE WI_TE_ OF _ES_AIR.
The three stared at the message for some seconds. Suddenly Michelle spoke:
“Alexei! Mathman!
“It was the best of times. it was the worst of times,
“It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
“It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of ... What's the opposite of belief?
“Incredulity?” offered Mathman, incredulous.
“...the epoch of incredulity,” Michelle continued.
"It was the -- something -- of hope, it was the winter of despair.”
“Spring of hope!” Alexei joined in. “The spring of hope, the winter of despair.”
Alexei and Michelle looked at each other.
“That's it?“ said Alexei in bewilderment. “That's the message? What is it saying?”
“Just a minute, Aloysha.” Michelle’s mind was racing a mile a minute. “Aloysha! This is the opening paragraph of A Tale of Two Cities, by Dickens. ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.’ Yeah. The two cities were London and Paris and it was the time leading up the French revolution.”
“Well, Viva la France,” was Alexei’s reply, “but what does that have to do with us?”
But Michelle was on a roll.
“OK, think about it,” she said. “Two cities. Two countries. Russia and the United States. The Friendship games. The Bronze Horseman on loan from The Hermitage to the National Museum of Art. Washington, D.C., and ... where is the Hermitage, anyway, Moscow or Lenningrad?”
“Len..,” Alexei began. “I mean St. Petersburg. They changed the name back. It’s the old Czarist capital.”
That struck another bell with Michelle.
“St. Petersburg?” she exclaimed. “Isn’t that where Count Von Petrick has his second estate, along with the Von Egan holdings in Luxembourg? It all seems to be coming together now. The Tale of Two Cities. Washington and St. Petersberg. I think the key to the missing Horseman is there, in St. Petersberg. Mathman, can you help?”
Thirty minutes later Michelle Kwan and Alexei Yagudin, 8 world championships between them, were on a State Department jet streaking toward Russia through the cloudless skies.
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Back to you, Alice Lou.
Weave your spell, Alice L.
(If you please, Alice Louise.)