Dash didn’t miss a beat. “That’s a series of air-intake valves, part of the intake manifold. There isn’t enough oxygen for a pilot at thirty-six thousand feet, which is the Hurricane’s maximum altitude, so the engine compresses the air from the valves with super chargers, which are connected over here, to the drive line, producing greater air intake.”
“Very good. Now, what if I were to ask you to change the oil on this airplane?”
“I’d be happy to. Do you use the newer mesh filters or fabric? I prefer the mesh, but I would obviously use whatever you prefer.”
The corners of Miss MacGill’s lips lifted ever so slightly. “I’ll tell you what. I like your eagerness and your attention to detail. You’re hired. See Miss Rose about the paperwork and arranging accommodation.” She winked. “And those test flights you mentioned? Give me some time, and I’ll see what I can arrange.”
twenty-threeDOT— Moncton, New Brunswick —
Dot took her fingers off the dial and scowled at the letters she’d just written, spotting a pattern. She was positive they were the same letters she’d written yesterday and the day before, transmitted over the span of the same three hours, and on the same frequency. This could be a standard greeting, like the one she’d identified at Saint-Hyacinthe, but she had a feeling it was something very different this time.
First of all, it was a mechanical transmission. The rhythm and speed were the exact same every time. Second, though she was there to listen, not decrypt, she had done it anyway, and it translated into a statement that intrigued her. Third, and strangest of all, she sensed another pattern behind it, like an echo of sorts. She hadn’t heard anything like that before.
Dot’s supervisor, Petty Officer Wren Douglas, was a little older than Dot, and she had not spoken with her at all before now. She glanced over, surprised to see Dot’s hand up.
“You need the lavatory?”
“No, thank you.” Dot handed over her notes. “I want to show you this.”
“?‘Fear light not sound,’?” the woman read quietly, squinting at the print. “What’s this?”
“Some sort of code. It’s being transmitted by a machine.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because the message is perfect every time. The spacing and the lengths.” Alice’s words drifted onto her lips. “Human beings are never perfect.”
“Good work. Treat this as a frequency marker.”
Dot had already been doing that, using the transmission as a fixed reference for finding other signals. That was simple enough. She was more concerned about the secondary message she was hearing. It seemed to be quietly tagged onto the first, and done in such a way that they should not have appeared connected. Because of the way they overlapped, and how the patterns wound through each other, Dot did not believe it was by accident.
“I already did that; however, I feel like there’s more to it.”
The supervisor tutted. “Don’t let codebreaking interrupt your work. You are here as a listener only.”
Telling Dot to stop puzzling something out was like asking the sun to stop shining. Something inside told her this was important. When she slipped her headphones on again, she searched specifically for the same transmission, feeling confident since she’d heard it three times in the past two hours.
There. The original, and just beyond… a different cipher. Dot wrote them both down, then she memorized them for later. She wasn’t allowed to take her work back to the dormitory with her, but no one needed to know that her memory was nearly photographic.
After she finished her shift, she headed back to the barracks and grabbed a piece of stationery. She flopped onto her bed, and her pencil immediately recalled every letter she’d memorized.
“Coming to supper?” Alice asked, breezing past her on the way to the mess hall.
“Bring me a roll, if you would,” Dot said, not looking up.
“What’s that?”
Dot slapped her hand over the paper. She didn’t want anyoneknowing she’d brought her work outside of the hut. Not even Alice. That would be a major offence. “Nothing.”
Alice looked intrigued. “Must be a pretty important letter home. All right. I’ll see what I can smuggle back here for you.”
Three hours later, Dot bolted upright. The paper was covered from corner to corner with hundreds of letters that would have appeared random to anyone else. Just when she’d been about to quit, the letters had given up their secret, lifting magically from the page and settling into perfect alignment. And now she knew. She checked her watch. It was an hour before lights out, but this message could not wait until tomorrow. She got out of bed, pulled on her shoes, and stuffed the paper inside her blouse.
“Eat,” Alice barked from her bunk. “I brought you a perfectly good roll hours ago. You’ll turn into a skeleton if you don’t eat something.” She narrowed her eyes. “A skeleton who looks like she’s hiding something.”
Dot had been so focused on her work she hadn’t noticed Alice deliver the bread. “Thanks, Alice. You’re a sport.”
Eating the roll as she went, Dot ran out of the dormitory and over to the Administration Building, where a few lights were still on. She made a beeline for Chief Wren Alder’s office.
