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“No, just asking.” She pointed across the river. “I don’t like that place.”
“Camp Peary? How come? Because of what happened to Monk there?”
“Not just that,” she said casually.
“What then?”
“Monk was gone a lot,” she said, suddenly changing the subject. “He left me for a long time.”
“When? You mean when he left the country?” Viggie nodded. Michelle couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought to ask the girl about this before. “Do you know why he left the country? Why he visited the places overseas that he did?”
“He talked a lot about Alan Turing when he got back. It wasn’t the first time he went there. He liked Alan Turing a lot, even though he’s dead.”
“When was the first time he went there?”
“Before we came here. When we were living at the other place.”
“What other place was that?”
“In New York City. I didn’t like it there. We lived in an apartment building. Everybody there was old. I didn’t like them because they smelled funny. All except one person. An old man. I liked him. Monk liked him too. They talked a lot. He talked funny though. It was hard to understand him.”
“Do you remember what they talked about?” Michelle had little reason to believe this was important, but she wanted to keep Viggie engaged.
“Not really. They talked about old stuff from a long time ago.”
“I see.”
“I’d just play my piano really loud when they did that.”
“But you said you liked the old man.”
“I did. He was nice, but he only talked about old stuff and it was hard to understand him.”
“Well, sometimes that’s what elderly people like to do, remember their past. And apparently Monk found it interesting.”
“The old man knew a lot about math and science. And he showed Monk some old maps and I saw him once writing all these letters down on a piece of paper and seeing if my dad could understand them.”
“So like a code?”
“I guess.”
“You said letters. I thought Monk was just into numbers?”
“Monk said history was full of numbers, important ones. Alan Turing used numbers a long time ago to help end a big war. Monk used to tell me about that. But they used alphabet letters too.”
“Is that what he and the old man talked about? Alan Turing and what he did during the Second World War?”
“Sometimes.”
Michelle, impatient by nature, was finding it difficult not to start screaming, “Just cut the bullshit games and tell me the truth, you little twerp!” Instead she said, as calmly as she could, “So what did they usually talk about?”
Viggie stood. “I’ll race you home.” She turned and sped off. Within five steps Michelle had caught her, but then fell back as though tiring.
Faking being out of breath she said, “I tell you what, Viggie, if I beat you back to the house, you have to tell me about codes and blood. If you beat me back I promise to never ask you another question about it. Deal?”
“Deal!” As soon as she said this Viggie kicked it into another gear and flew down the path toward Alicia’s cottage, leaving Michelle behind.
She rounded the last bend and there sat the cottage dead ahead. She squealed with delight and increased her speed. Ten feet from the front steps she watched in disbelief as Michelle, who’d been purposefully hanging back, blew by her, raced up the steps and sat down on the top step.
