Contact
By the time December rolled around, I had begun to figure that either something bad had happened to Dr. Malenkov or that Sheldon had figured out how to decrypt my emails after all. Or perhaps the whole incident had been some kind of bizarre and elaborate hoax.
But then my phone rang in the middle of the night on December 13th, and Sheldon was on the other end of the line. "You have an email from Dr. Malenkov," he said, conversationally. "You need to tell me what it says."
I woke up as best I could and shuffled into my office. It seemed like it took forever for my computer to boot. I retrieved and entered the encryption key, and this message appeared on my screen:
ACHMED RASSAM PORT AGELES TOMMORROW NITE
"Who's Achmed Rassam?" I asked Sheldon, after I had forwarded the decrypted message to him.
"Get some sleep," Sheldon suggested, before I had a chance to ask him where Port Ageles was. "We'll talk in a couple of days."
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©2007 Henry Charles Mishkoff