CHAPTER ELEVEN
Max frowned slightly as he read Rick’s email.
“Not a Fibonacci,” Rick had confirmed. “My gut says this is more old-fashioned, more straightforward than a mathematical sequence. If we can locate the cipher key, we can c***k this thing wide open. If you will send me all the data you have on Adolf Werner, I’ll keep working it – Rick.”
Max leaned back, considered for a moment.
What the hell, he thought. If anyone can c***k it, it’ll be a Conner.
He fired off a missive to his unit secretary to make a complete copy of the Werner/Metzger files, and overnight them to Texas.
***
* * * *
The next afternoon Rick stared thoughtfully at the thick sheaf of data that had arrived via courier just before he closed the store.
“Man,” he muttered. “That’s quite a stack.”
Max had honor
