The Givenchy Code Read Online Free PDF Page A

the side with the reading lamp. On the coffee table in front, he’d put out a couple of plates and opened all the takeout boxes. He’d even poured a glass of wine. If the man was trying to win me back, he was on the right track.
    “I ordered extra nan,” he said, and I swear I almost kissed him. I adore the pitalike bread and always eat way more than an Atkins-friendly portion.
    Todd and I settled in at the couch, and after I’d heaped my plate full, I slipped the message out of the envelope, studying it as I chowed down. To be honest, I could tell right away this wasn’t going to take a lot of effort, and I experienced a sudden dissipation of respect for my secret admirer, rather akin to the flushing of a toilet. Whoosh! All that esteem just went spiraling down into oblivion. I mean, really. You’d think someone willing to encrypt a secret message or fantabulous invitation could have come up with something at least a little challenging.
    “So what is that thing, anyway?” Todd asked, resting a hand on my thigh as he leaned closer. I didn’t shrug it off; in fact, it felt kind of nice. Not sparks—the only sparks I’d ever had with Todd had been generated between the sheets—but comfortable. I’d been W.B. (without boyfriend) for over six months now, and I could feel my soul yearning to slide back into the familiar cocoon of coupledom. Where relationships are concerned, I’m weak and pathetic. I know this, but we all have our crosses to bear.
    I concentrated on his question, trying to ignore his breath against my ear. “It’s a pigpen code,” I said.
    “Of course it is.” The hand lifted, and I took a breath. “Want to tell me what that means?”
    I was already making notes with a felt tip on the Styrofoam container the curry came in, trying to work out exactly how this cipher was constructed. “Fences,” I said. “See how each letter is like a little box?” I drew a basic pigpen.

“The letters are‘fenced,’ and so that’s how the code got its name.”
    “Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not following.
    “Trust me, it’s cool. Confederate soldiers used codes like these during the Civil War. Just give me a sec to work it out….” I tapped the pen against my teeth, thinking. I could tell from the placement of the dots within each “fence” of the message that I was dealing with a four-character pigpen, which is what I’d drawn for Todd. But I’d plugged in a few letters and come up with gibberish.
    I took another bite of sag paneer as I pondered what to try next. Was I dealing with a code in a code? Or maybe I’d drawn the wrong key. Maybe this key ran vertical instead of horizontal? I tried that, creating my decryption device by writing the alphabet and first ten digits down instead of across, so that I had A, B, C where before I had had A, M, Y. Still pretty simplistic. Would it work?
    Three minutes later I had my answer. It worked like a charm…and I didn’t like the result. Not one little bit.
    “What kind of a sick son of a bitch would send me a coded message like that?” I stood up and circled the table, and now I was standing facing Todd and pointing down at the table with an accusing finger. I’d written the decoded message across the pastel pink takeout menu:
    PLAY
    OR
    DIE
    ***
    PRESTIGE
    PARK
    39A 89225

    “What do you think it means?” Todd asked.
    “I don’t care,” I said. And I didn’t. I don’t like scary movies, I don’t like surprise parties, and I certainly didn’t like strange, creepy messages…no matter how tall, dark and handsome the messenger might have been.
    “It’s probably from someone in your study group,” Todd said. His voice was low, meant to soothe. Wasn’t working.
    “Well, screw them,” I said, still fighting goose bumps. Play or die??? What kind of a freak sends a message like that?
    “Just forget about it,” Todd said, getting up and coming around to me. He leaned over and grabbed the coded message off the table, crumpling it in one