THE LAST GOOD WAR: A Novel by Paul Wonnacott Page B

1938 and earlier, they had run into a major problem. The Germans were now using five wheels, although only three at a time. The codes might still be broken, if they could ever reconstruct or steal the other two wheels and produce a complete set of Zygalski sheets. Marian was working intensely, trying to figure out the internal wiring of the two new wheels.
    Alastair and Dilly followed the presentation intently, asking penetrating questions; it quickly became clear that they were familiar with many of the issues. But apparently, this meeting was to be the reverse of January's. The Poles were the ones providing information; the British were listening.
    During the luncheon break, Anna made a brief, and, she hoped, discrete, visit to the office of the hunting lodge.
    The afternoon was dedicated to Marian's description of his machine; detailed plans would be provided to the British and French, along with ideas for the upcoming Mark II. Through the mishmash of languages, it became clear that that the British were working on a similar decoding machine.
    At the end, Dilly Knox observed that Marian had simply spoken of “Mark I and Mark II.” But Mark I of what? What was the machine called? A “bomba” or bombe, he was told.
    “Why in the world a 'bomba'?” he asked.
    “Because,” replied Marian, “it keeps on ticking until something happens.”
    Thereafter, whenever Anna was asked why it was called a bomba, she repeated Marian's explanation. Even after she discovered the truth. Marian had been too embarrassed to give an honest answer. When he first thought of the machine, he, Henryk, and Jerzy were eating a popular ice cream called bomba. So bomba it was.
    As the meeting broke up, Anna was asked to accompany Denniston and Knox back to the British embassy. As the two visitors settled in the back seat, they began to rehash the events of the previous 24 hours. The meeting was a tremendous success; Denniston was delighted with the Enigma machine and information provided by the Poles.
    “It was bloody-well time,” retorted Knox, apparently forgetting that Anna was in the front seat. “Bertrand is livid.”
    There were a few moments of silence; Anna could feel anger simmering in the back seat. Knox exploded.
    “The bastards told Bertrand that they would inform him at once if they succeeded in breaking Enigma. It was their solemn promise when Bertrand passed Schmidt's information on to them way back in 1932.”
    So Schmidt, thought Anna, was the German traitor. Not much of a security breach—there must be thousands of people named Schmidt in Germany. But she hoped that the driver didn't understand English.
    She wondered if she should try to defend Rejewski. He had been eager to talk to the British and French, but had been unable, until recently, to get permission. She decided to let it pass.
    Denniston apparently remembered that Anna was in the front seat, and switched the conversation to the recent games at Wimbledon.
    The next day, the British and French headed home with a mixture of gratitude and resentment, the gift machines following in diplomatic pouches.
    For the Poles remaining behind, those troublesome fourth and fifth rotors presented a roadblock. But in a remarkable mathematical feat, Marian succeeded in figuring out their internal wiring from radio intercepts. He was helped by a German blunder. The final piece of his puzzle fell into place when the Poles intercepted a long message, with plain text and coded passages interspersed.
    A month later, as Denniston was working methodically through a sample of Zygalski sheets, his secretary buzzed. A messenger from the Polish embassy was in the outer office. He had come with a package. But they were having trouble with him; he flatly refused to give it to anyone but Denniston himself. Denniston had him sent in. Denniston slit open the plain brown cardboard box and saw a note at the top.
22 August, 1939
Dear Alastair,
Thought that numbers four and five might be of some