Stephanie Doyle - Calculated Risk

“Okay. You want me to read it and see if I can pick up some message coded within the puzzles.” She opened the book to page one, but Quinlan took it from her hands.

“We’ve photocopied each of the pages. You can go through that door.” He pointed to a door that she hadn’t realized was there until he said something. Other than a small handle it seemed to blend into the wall. “There’s a large screen. We can project the pages onto the screen and make it easier for you to read.”

Sabrina glanced at the three men who were staring back at her-the two geeks were still zoned in on the monitors-one was doubtful, one was hopeful, the other… Q was looking at her as if he really believed she could do it.

She wouldn’t let him down.

As confidently as she could in flip-flops, she walked to the door, opened it and stepped into what was a small, brightly lit room. Empty except for a metal stool in the center of it. The far wall had what Quinlan had described, a large screen that took up the space from ceiling to floor. Behind her, she heard a mechanical humming and turned to see that next to the door there was a panel halfway up the wall that was currently sliding open to reveal a glass window. She gave a little wave to the men looking on and tried not to feel as though she was in some kind of five-cent peekaboo sex show.

“How do you want them?”

A speaker mounted in the corner of the room echoed the voices from the other side of the glass. The nasal quality of the voice told her it was one of the geeks. She turned back to the window and shrugged. “What do you mean?”

The geek on the right rolled his eyes as if to suggest her question was incredibly stupid. “One page at a time? Single pages flashed in succession? Several pages at a time? What?”

Sabrina looked back at the screen. “Just put as many as will fit on the screen. When I tell you, move to the next set.”

He huffed and she considered telling him where he could get off, but then she made eye contact with Quinlan. With just a look he conveyed the message that she needed to focus on the task not the geek.

Suddenly, the pages appeared on the screen. They were enlarged to fit on four-foot-square panels. The screen held four of those across and four down so she was looking at the first sixteen pages of the book.

She hadn’t seen the page number on the last page of the book so she asked, “How many pages are there?”

“One hundred and fifty-two.”

Yikes. The combination of letters and numbers in front of her suddenly seemed a little overwhelming. To commit to memory nine and a half screens of similar pages-the only way she would be able to see the work in its entirety in order to find the code-was going to be more than she believed she could handle.

She turned around again to look at Quinlan. This had been his idea. That’s what he told her. And now she knew why he told her. He was counting on her not wanting to fail him. He was right, but she didn’t like being manipulated that way.

“Look, Sabrina if you can’t do it…” the AD began. “Well, no one else has found anything, either. Just try, okay?”

Right. Just try. But Quinlan had more of a you-better-do-it-or-else expression on his face. She turned back to the wall of jumbled numbers and started to focus. Her head tilted slightly to the right as she allowed the numbers to sink inside, as she began first to see them, then to absorb them.

“Next.”

There was an audible silence. “Next,” Sabrina repeated.

“You don’t want a little more time?” geek number two asked.

Without bothering to turn around, she stated clearly, “If I had needed more time I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have said next.”

“Do what she asks.” That was Quinlan’s voice.

Instantly, the screen was replaced with a new set of pages. No doubt the geeks were peeing in their pants with fear. Quinlan could do that with just a few words.

Again, she let herself absorb the patterns in front of her. Left and right, up and down, she committed the position of the symbols both alpha and numeric to memory. Then with that memory of the first screen, and now the second screen, she asked for screen number three.

“Next.”

This time she heard an incredulous sigh as opposed to a huff. “This is ridiculous and a waste of time…” Mr. Army muttered.

“You know, not for nothing,” Sabrina called out, “but a little encouragement here wouldn’t be a bad thing. Next.”

The screen turned and silence loomed. So quiet. So tense. Her focus intensified as the challenge to hold the positions of the previous pages in her mind while adding the new pages became harder. “Next.”

An ache formed behind her eyes, but she ignored it. Something was there. A pattern. She could see it. She closed her eyes and brought the other pages into focus in the dark. Then she opened her eyes to the light and the screen in front of her.

“Go back two screens.”

She could almost feel the geeks’ cynicism leaking through the glass. But the screen changed and she was looking at the pages that she expected.

“Here,” she mumbled unconsciously. “I can see it…it’s because…the last and then again…wait…that’s why…two.”

And just like that it became clear to her. Like staring at one of those fuzzy pictures long enough until you saw the real picture beneath. “Go three screens forward.” She looked at one of the pages expectantly, saw what she knew she would see and smiled.

“One more screen forward. Now back five.” She turned around and her smile, she knew, was triumphant. “I got it.”

She could see that they still doubted her, but she didn’t care. She got it and for the first time she understood the power of the gift she’d been given. If she wasn’t mistaken she was about to save someone’s life. She walked back through the door. “Someone give me a pen and paper.”

Quinlan quickly pulled out a pen and a small pad from his pocket. “You’re like a Boy Scout, you know that?” she teased.

She wrote down a series of numbers on the first page. Then she turned the paper over and wrote down another set.

“That’s what got my dad,” she explained, although she doubted they would understand. “He was looking for a single pattern. One set of coordinates. But there are two patterns. The first is complete. It’s a phone number. The second is what you believed it would be, a set of geographic coordinates, but it’s incomplete. My guess, this asset, he’s no dummy. He wants you to come get him first, then he’ll give you the missing piece.”

The three men stared down at the numbers then looked at one another.

“I’m right,” she insisted. “Call the number.”

“This number could lead to anything,” Mr. Army grumbled.

“Call the number,” she told them. “What have you got to lose?”

That seemed to convince the AD. There was a phone on the panel. In consideration to her he put it on speaker and punched in the number she had given him. They waited. It rang. Then someone picked up.

“It’s about damn time.” The voice was accented, but the words were English as if the man on the other end of the line knew that the people dialing the number would be speaking English, as well. “Where the hell have you been? I thought you CIA were supposed to be smart. Three days!” the voice on the other end of the phone railed. “It doesn’t matter now. You found this number, then you know. You get me out and I give you last piece of puzzle. Yes?”

The AD picked up the phone at that point, his eyes pinned on Sabrina. He was looking at her as if he was impressed, but also as if she was a freak. “Yes,” he returned. “Tell us where you are.”

With that, Quinlan took Sabrina by the arm and led her out of the room. She’d served her purpose and it was time to go. But before she walked back into the hall, she motioned to the geeks. “Hey, when you tell this story, and you will, tell my dad it only took me twenty-three minutes and five seconds.”