The secret of Kryptos was out of the artist’s hands, in the most humiliating way imaginable—Sanborn himself had mistakenly submitted it in readable form to the museum. For 35 years the Kryptos plaintext had been a summit that none had reached. Suddenly some had attained it—not by climbing to the peak but by hitching a ride to the top. Sanborn’s grand vision for a piece of art that illuminated the idea of secrecy itself was imperiled—as was the auction. Now he had to figure out what to do about it.