Page 28 of The Queen (Masterpiece Duet 2)
“Sure. Even when you’re working with governments, it’s on the civil side. Utilities. And there’s privatization all the time. Cell phone carriers. Internet data usage.”
Something uncomfortable stirs in my chest. Once I had a terrible crush on this man. I thought he was the life I was supposed to have, the kind of man who would keep me safe. “I thought you were interested in the welfare system.”
“Of course I am. They’re basically the end cases, the place where reality proves or disproves theory. Anyway, this isn’t the time. I can go on for hours about that, but we’re talking about codes.”
I flip the call to speakerphone so that I can snap a picture of the code. Something keeps me from sending it to him. Why am I hesitating when he can help? Even if he didn’t have a strong background in cryptography he’s a world-renowned mathematician—of course I value his insight.
And still I stare at the numbers on my phone screen, a knot in my throat.
How did I become so sure the message was in the arrangement of the numbers? What if the number represents a single entity? What if it’s a direction—like a phone number? The number of digits aren’t right, but the idea hooks into me. So many digits.
Not a social security number.
“Penny?” comes the voice from far away—from a different state, a different version of me. He isn’t the life I’m supposed to have, which leaves me empty, adrift. Alone.
“One sec,” I whisper.
It could be an ISBN number.
A quick Internet search pulls up an outdated textbook in oceanography. It’s possible that’s the answer, but it doesn’t feel right. Dr. Stanhope wouldn’t understand about gut instinct, but growing up in the west side, I learned to trust it. There’s something here, not words within the number. Something the number points me to.
“Penny, when are you coming home?”
The words startle me enough that I lose my train of thought. “Home?”
“Yes, home. Smith College. This is where you belong.”
What a strange idea, that I belong there. That I belong anywhere. I always felt like an imposter at college, like someone would rip away my notebook and messenger bag and expose me for the poor trailer-park trash that I really am.
“I’m not sure. I have to find Avery before I can come back.”
“You can’t put your life on hold for her,” he says, gently chiding.
That suddenly strikes me as wildly cruel. “Why can’t I? She’s my friend. One of my only friends. It’s because of her that I got to go to Smith at all.”
“Penny,” he says, and I realize that I’m hysterical.
I should stop this. Hang up the phone. Find some way to act like a normal human instead of this sobbing, shaking mass of emotion, but I’ve been holding it together too long. “Oh God. She’s gone. I have to do something. What can I do?”
“You are doing something,” he reminds me.
The cipher. The terrible code. A horrible game where her life is at stake. It’s not so different from playing poker from someone’s life. Callous and wrong and so deeply a part of Tanglewood’s stained fabric that it will never come out.
I force myself to breathe in slow, deep breaths. Losing it might feel better to me, but it doesn’t help Avery at all. I need to be strong for her. “Talk to me more about the commercial uses of Ramsey numbers,” I say.
There’s a startled pause, where he’s probably wondering if I’ve gone crazy. But if there’s one thing I can rely on, it’s Dr. Stanhope’s passion for his work.
“There’s this contract I’m working on in conjunction with the major digital radio supplier. They aren’t bound by the same rules and restrictions as broadcast radio, so it’s really the Wild West of communications policy.”
Any other time I might find his enthusiasm endearing, but I’m staring at the number.
“Keep going.”
“Are you sure you’re okay, Penny?”
“You said something about Internet data usage.”
“Right, well. There’s the more obvious applications, in terms of the pricing for data plans and what’s most profitable for the carriers. But the more interesting application is in distribution of the Internet itself. Each hub is a resource, so how do you utilize it best? How do you prioritize requests for usage?”
“If hubs are the resource, then people are the users?”
“More than that. Nowadays each person has multiple devices. Phones, tablets. Laptops. Each one vying for the same resources.”
“An IP address,” I whisper.
“Yes, that’s right. The IP addresses are locations.”
Excitement beats in my chest. “So an IP address is unique?”
“Penny, what does this have to do with Avery James?”
“Maybe everything.”
I hold up the paper to the light and squint at the bottom row. It’s the only part that isn’t contained by the equation. There are little, also imperceptible dots between some of the numbers. Not made with ink. They’re imperfections in the paper, as if it was made for this purpose, to send this specific message. These wouldn’t have shown up on pictures, not even high-resolution ones.
