Inside MI6's server farm in the middle of the night, the operator's eyes skittered frantically over an intercepted message:
The development of our new APG code has been coming along nicely; I've signed this message in it. Tomorrow you, under my supervision, will rig the random number generators – both mechanical and electronic – in the Paris casino so that anyone who comes gambling wins and the management will be forced to declare insolvency. Of course we will be reaping the lion's share.
In case you don't know APG code, basically you've got to play a game on your own, of births and deaths of cells specified in each line. The message is in the periods. One limitation is that we can't use S in messages, and until recently we couldn't use W either – but we can always work around.
I wish you the best of luck.
"By Golly!" Miss Moneypenny exclaimed; she had just arrived in the control room. "Is the last part of the decrypt correct?"
"Yes indeed," came the operator's reply, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement. "I can give you the details at a more convenient time, but James Bond has a new mission."
"We can talk later. Good night."
Who wrote the message?