The Crystalline Crucible by Adam Rowan

Author:Adam Rowan [Rowan, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spinning Monkey Press LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Do you guys know any good books about ciphers? Just asking. It’s for a personal project.

Throbbinhood420 and wombraider69 also seemed to be doing well in the contest. They kept harassing Max with private messages—telling him that they’d won ages ago and that he should give up. He didn’t understand where they had found that picture of him that they had cruelly photoshopped to make him look like he was a bedraggled tramp.

“I know what it could be. Wait. What’s it called…” she mumbled, mulling it over. “A Caesar cipher, the code cracker. It’s a type of substitution cipher in which the numbers are switched for letters, and then the letters should be replaced by other letters that are some number of positions up or down the alphabet.”

“We’ll have to go to Khalil’s apartment to try it out,” Max asserted, and sprung to his feet. “Thanks so much for that, Khalil.”

“I kinda feel put upon, mate, but I guess,” Khalil said, lip twisted like a corkscrew. “Haven’t cleaned though. It is a bit of a mess.”

“Fine,” Rosie said darkly. “I’ll come, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Max. Don’t let this make you think I approve. I can legally do this, not you. You could end up in prison. Maybe you should just stay away.”

“Don’t worry, Mummy. I’ll be a good boy,” Max joshed. “I just have to make my probation officer think I believe that treasure hunting is out of fashion and uncool. As if. I must see her in an hour actually. Such fun.”

Judging by Rosie’s increasingly positive attitude, Max was starting to think that Khalil could have been right to let her in on the clue. That said, questions now surfaced about how his partnership with Khalil was to work if there were a third member. Would she want to help them beyond this clue?

When they arrived at Khalil’s apartment, he could, for the first time, appreciate how much his co-worker must be struggling with money. Hamlet House was perhaps the most unpleasant tower block in Nottinghamshire. Half of the building work remained unfinished, shifty thugs lurked around the corners and a thick miasma of cigarette smoke lingered everywhere. Max didn’t have high standards. Norman Court was nothing to write home about either, but at least the building wasn’t falling apart.

As soon as Khalil opened his door, his neighbour’s one swung forward too, like the doors were roped together. Out of it stepped a musty, ancient man with pupils that appeared magnetised together.

“Excuse me, Muhammad. You have to get my permission to have visitors!” he complained, spit flying out of his mouth. By the look of his woolly jumper, which was covered with tea stains and full of holes, he hadn’t changed clothes in weeks. “The rumpus you’ve been making these past few days has been giving me a headache!”

“What are you talking about, Mr Brooks? I haven’t been making any bloody noise,” Khalil grunted, flinching. “And my name’s not Muhammad. It’s Khalil.”

“Balderdash! I’ve had enough of your ruckus with you alone, and now you’re bringing along these hoodlums.

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