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Roald blew out a fast breath. “Hardly, Darrell. But we’ve done it. Good work. What we do now is take the secret phrase and add it to the beginning of the incomplete alphabet to make a full twenty-six letters.”

They rewrote the alphabet.

B L A U S T E R N C D F G H I J K M O P Q V W X Y Z

“Now we arrange the normal ABC alphabet under it?” asked Lily.

“Not quite,” Dr. Kaplan said. “Instead of a second alphabet, Heinrich added an extra step. We need a number key. We have to know how many letters we count from the coded letter to find the proper letter for the substitution.”

“Is there a number on the map?” asked Lily. “Maybe we already have the number key, but it’s hidden on Wade’s chart.”

“Smart, Lil.” Becca squinted over the map. Wade noticed a little thing she did when she was concentrating. A squiggle of her lips.

Dr. Kaplan stood. “Smart, yes, but there are hundreds of numbers on the map. Coordinates, degrees. I can’t help but feel that Uncle Henry would point to the number directly, with a specific clue—”

“Maybe he did, with this,” said Darrell. He flipped the corner of the map over. In faint script it read Happy Birth-day, Wade. “Mom told me that pencil marks are great on manuscripts. They last for years but they can be erased. Anyway, a birthday is a number.”

“Holy cow,” said Lily. “Wade, what’s your birthday?”

“October sixth.”

“Ten and six,” said Becca. “Sixteen. So the substitution for each letter is sixteen letters away? Let’s start.”

They counted sixteen letters from each letter of the first two words of the coded message.

Lca guygas …

became

Mzo apiaoq …

Darrell tried to pronounce it. “May-zo app-i-ay-ock?”

Lily turned to Roald. “This isn’t a language, is it?”

“No,” he said. “We must have gotten the substitution wrong.”

“Wait,” said Becca, tapping the map. “If your uncle likes codes and puzzles, maybe he meant everything about the message to be a clue, right? So what about the minus sign in ‘birth-day’?”

Wade leaned over the faint pencil marks. “Maybe that’s just the European way of writing it. Is it, Dad?”

His father raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe Heinrich is asking us to subtract the day from your birthday. In other words, October sixth isn’t ten plus six, it’s ten minus six. Let’s try four.”

They did.

Lca …

became

The …

“I know that word!” Lily screamed. “That’s it!”

Dr. Kaplan laughed. “So the number is four. We count off four letters from the letter in the code to give us the correct letter, like this.”

He scribbled on Darrell’s pad for the next few minutes, then showed them.

B = S

L = T

A = E

U = R

S = N

T = C

E = D

R = F

N = G

C = H

D = I

F = J

G = K

H = M

I = O

J = P

K = Q

M = V

O = W

P = X

Q = Y

V = Z

W = B

X = L

Y = A

Z = U

“If we’re right about this decryption code, where the email message uses the letter B, it really represents S, and so forth down the line. So when the whole message is translated …” Dr. Kaplan scratched away on the pad for several minutes. He breathed in and out more excitedly until he dropped his pencil and spoke.

“The kraken devours us.

Strange tragedies will now begin.

Protect the Magisters Legacy.

Find the twelve relics.

You are the last.”

Wade felt a twinge in the center of his chest. You are the last. That was never a good message, especially when it was in code. But the other words? Tragedies? Legacy? Relics?

“Magister,” said Darrell. “Is that like a magician?”

Dr. Kaplan shook his head. “More like a master. A title of respect. Like professor.”

“Okay, but we’re not calling you Magister, Dad.”

“And kraken?” said Lily. “What’s kraken?”

“Sort of a giant squid,” Becca said. “A sea monster. It’s in legends and stories and things.”

Wade blinked. Where does she get this stuff? Substitution codes and krakens? Is it really all that time she spends poring over books or is she an actual genius? Either way, she’s kind of amazing.

“How did your uncle know yesterday about the tragedies they’re talking about this morning?” asked Lily.

“What tragedies?” Darrell asked.

“The things going on all over. It’s been on the net all morning. Look.” Lily linked to a news page on her tablet and scrolled down. Below the political news was a photo report of a building collapse in the center of Rio de Janeiro, in Brazil. Below that were several pieces about an oil tanker sinking in the Mediterranean. “It’s pretty weird, isn’t it, that they both happened at kind of the same time as his message? They’re tragedies, right?” Lily looked from one to the other of them. “I think they are.”

“They are, of course,” Dr. Kaplan said over the tablet. “But I don’t know …”

“Call him,” said Wade. “Call Uncle Henry now and find out what he means.”

“You absolutely have to, Uncle Roald,” Lily added.

Dr. Kaplan glanced at his watch. “It’s six hours later there. Afternoon. He should be home. All right.” He found the number in his notebook. Sliding his cell phone from his jacket pocket, he realized once again that it was dead and plugged it into its charger. Then he went into the living room and keyed the number into the home phone. He put it on speaker, and set it on the coffee table.

It rang five times before a woman answered, “Ja?”

“Hello,” said Dr. Kaplan. “I would like to speak to Herr Heinrich Vogel, please. It’s urgent.”

There was a pause. “Nein. No. No Herr Vogel. I em Frau Munch. Howze kipper.” The woman had a thick accent. It took a moment for Wade to understand her.

“Housekeeper,” he whispered.

“Can you please give Dr. Vogel a message?”

“No mess edge.”

“It’s short. Please tell him to call me. My name is—”

“Herr Vogel no call. Herr Vogel iz ded!”

The Forbidden Stone

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