Slowly Going Bald

So. The code Martin finds in his book is four sets of three numbers each. He figures out that these sequences refer to parts of that book: the first number is a page, the second number is a line, and the third number is a word. Deciphered, the code lists four words that are revealed to be the Latin names for a pair of ordinary plants, the lily and the laurel. So far, so good.

Yet Elizabeth, Martin's wife, also has a copy of the book with the same code and, thus, access to the same information. When she installs a slave drive on a scientist's laptop to break in and steal his files, she's prompted to give two passwords: one to log in to the machine, and another to open his file folder. The scientist's passwords are the Latin names for the lily and laurel, after his daughters, Lily and Laurel. Elizabeth uses the code in her book to produce the Latin words and enter the laptop remotely.

Here's the problem, though: why use a code? Why take along a book and inscribe an incriminating cipher in the back when it would be easier to just memorize four Latin words? It's not as if Elizabeth didn't know those passwords would work; there was no suspense or worry when she looked through the book to get the words, merely a quiet sense of work and accomplishment. So if they she knew the passwords would work, why put them in a book? How did she and her team acquire the passwords in the first place? Were they kept a secret from her so she could have plausible deniability if apprehended in the process of hacking the machine? Why go to the trouble of reverse-engineering a complex way to hide the passwords in plain sight when you could just commit them to memory?

Ugh. Just one of the many irritating parts of the film, and representative of its idiocy as a whole. It acts like the code is clever, when really it's pointless and redundant.