Enigma Page #2

the short signal code book|isn't much help as a crib.

Two men died|saving those little books...

from a sinking submarine.

Fasson and Grazier.

We caught the U-boat|on the surface in the eastern Med.

The sub went down when they|were inside trying to bring out|its four-rotor Enigma.

November '42.|I was in destroyers.

It was my last ship.

Bletchley is the lucky number|in this war.

- One and six, please.|- One and six.

Here you are.

Girls, guess I'm off.

- See you later.|- Yes, I'll see you later.

Miss Wallace?

Mr Jericho.|When did you get back?

Just today.|How, uh-- How are you?

How am I?

Yeah, all right.|How is she?

She's-- She's Claire.

- Well, will you tell her?|- If I see her.

She hasn't been sleeping|at home the last two nights.

Sorry.

Good morning, sir.

- Worrying about your babies?|- Puck.

Thomas.

So, they say you're|not crazy any more.

- It thinks it's found a possible.|- ''It thinks''?

- Why not?|- Been in the hut?

- Come on. Get it over with.|- No, I'm fiine, Puck.

Sure, you are.

Hey, Betty, wait for me!

Gentlemen, we have a ghost.

Tom, how the hell are you?

- Well. Very well.|- Have you escaped, or what?

- I thought this was the asylum.|- How are you?

- Good.|- Bloody hell!

- How's the revolution, Alec?|- Coming along, comrade. Coming along.

- T-- T-- T--|- Yes, it's me.

I, uh-- I want to see all the Shark|traffiic we haven't been able to break.

- In at the deep end.|- Why not?

- Yes, why not?|- Have you got yesterday's Porpoises?

Open the fiile.

Besides, it wasn't really Shark|that made you crazy.

Was it, Tom?

I suppose you all know.

You think I made a fool of myself?

Forget about it.|You're among friends.

So, what about the code breakers?

Kingcome, De Brooke,|Upjohn, Pukowski.

- Spot the odd one out.|- Puck lost his parents|when Poland was invaded.

His kid brother is missing in action.|He hates the Germans.

Pinker?|Bit of an arty, isn't he?

He writes detective stories.

Baxter. They say he sleeps with|a picture of Stalin under his pillow.

Perhaps you haven't heard.|Stalin's on our side now.

- And Jericho. The famous Mr Jericho.|- Mathematician.

Went off his trolley, didn't he?|About some girl.

We took him out of Cambridge|on the fiirst day of the war.

He worked himself into|a breakdown, so we shipped him|back to Cambridge to get well.

And that's all there is to it.

It's never all there is|to anything.

Shift's not over yet, ladies!

The 3:
00's from Beaumanor|all need blisting.

You know, without your glasses,|you don't look half bad.

Do you know, without my glasses,|nor do you?

Claire?

I'm here.

Sorry it took an age.

Well, now you know where I am.

It's, um, off the beaten track.

Yes, well, it's better|than being snooped on by landladies.

Welfare found out I had a spare room,|so I had to share.

But Hester's a sweetie, really.|Oh, there's no sugar, I'm afraid,|but it's lapsang.

And I always think sugar would|rather spoil lapsang, don't you?

Don't know.|You're my fiirst lapsang.

I knew you'd ask me out.

- I thought you asked me out.|- Well, I had to get you started.|Aren't there any pretty girls in Hut 8?

- How do you know where I work?|- We've got an interesting men|tracking room in Hut 3.

- You're not supposed to|tell me where you--|- Besides, you're rumoured to have|done something very clever...

and I want to know what it is.

Oh, my God.|Where did they fiind you?

Oh, where did they fiind any of us?|I'm the lucky one.

You know, they've got|perfectly clever girls|working like post offiice clerks.

Not like me|on the German book.

I want that for my scrapbook.

- Can I see it?|- If you want. It's upstairs.

That's Hester.

And this is me.

You've been busy.

- Where is this?|- Loch Feochan, in Scotland,|where I'd like to be old.

If I'm ever old.|Do you think it's beautiful?

Why are you a mathematician?|Do you like sums?

I like numbers.

Because with numbers,|truth and beauty are the same thing.

You know you're getting somewhere|when the equations start looking...

beautiful.

And you know the numbers are taking you|closer to the secret of how things are.

A rose is just plain text.

My God.|What have you done?

What has she done?

- Mr Jericho?|- Miss Wallace.

I came looking for Claire.|I was worried about her.

I could fiill a bus with men|who are worried about Claire Romilly...

but that's no reason why|I shouldn't go to the police.

She'd be the fiirst person|they'd arrest.

Miss Wallace,|please put that poker down.

And if you know where she is,|for God's sake, tell me.

She's gone missing.

What are those, exactly?

Intercepts. German signals.

Yes, I know that much.

Five-letter groups. German Navy signals|are sent in four-letter groups.

So this must be army|or Luftwaffe.

Picked up by the radio scanners|at Beaumanor.

All sent between 9:30 and midnight|on April 17, nine days ago.

- But never deciphered.|- How do you know that?

Well, if it'd gone through|the machine, then plain text|would be stuck on the back.

All from the same source.|''ADU. ADU.''

Does the call sign ADU|mean anything to you, Miss Wallace?

Miss Wallace?

''Angels Dance Upwards.''

- What?|- Well, that's how we'd reference it.

- Who is it? Who is ADU?|- I don't know.

But you could fiind out.

Do you have any idea|what you're saying?

We can't just go digging through|Bletchley looking for information|about missing cryptograms.

If we want to fiind Claire, then we need|to fiind out what she was hiding.

- You think Claire is a traitor.|- Would it matter if she were?

Of course it matters.|Look...

she was probably flirting|with an offiicer and forgot|to fiile those intercepts...

so she hid them|rather than get told off.

Or she stole them|and then she ran away.

You really are mad,|aren't you?

And I would have to be even madder|to have any part in this little|amateur sleuthing adventure.

Miss Wallace.|Miss Wallace!

You said yourself|that she was missing.

Now, is that normal?|Is that her habit?

Well, she does always come home|to change her clothes.

Well, there you are.

Is she seeing anyone,|do you know?

What exactly is your interest here?

You can reach me at Armstrong's|Guest House in Albion Street.

ADU, Miss Wallace.

Angels Dance Upwards.

They call it BlacBottom|the new twister

lt's sure got 'em|and, oh, sister

They clap their hands|and do a raggedy flop and a hop

Old fellows with lumbago

nd high yellow|The waves they go

They jump right in|and give us all that they've got

They say that when that river bottom's|covered with ooze

You silly, silly girl.

These people keep|such funny hours.

I haven't heard--|Oh, Mr Jericho!

You have a visitor.|You can have the parlour.

We don't have guests|in the bedrooms after 10:00.

Oh, Mrs Armstrong, it's perfectly|sweet of you to worry...

but I don't mind taking|the risk just this once.

Well, I suppose it's all right|if you're from the park.

Mr Wigram, would you care|for a cup of Ovaltine?

Ovaltine?

I haven't had Ovaltine since--|no, no--

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