The Navigator
Page 39
Following the arrow, he swam into the altar room. His pulse quickened at the sight of the raised dais, where the Thomas Jefferson box had rested.
Nestled in the shreds of wood was a diver’s slate with the words:
WHEN YOU GET TO HELL, ADRIANO, GIVE MR. BALTAZAR OUR REGARDS.
Austin again.
Adriano stared at the message, then threw the slate aside and swam with all his strength along the route that would take him back to the shaft. When he got there, he discovered a pile of rubble that was the only evidence of the collapsed shaft.
He glanced at his air gauge. He had minutes left. Even if there was a way out, he didn’t have enough air to search for it. Adriano sat on the pile of rubble until his air ran out completely. The last in the line of Spain’s official garrotters died, in a twist of irony, of asphyxiation.
NUMA 7 - The Navigator
Chapter 55
“AHOY, MR. NICKERSON,” Austin said. “Request permission to come aboard the Lovely Lady.”
Nickerson poked his head out the open door of the salon and smiled when he saw Austin. “Permission granted.”
Austin went up the gangway and shook hands with the State Department man.
He tapped a black plastic pouch. “I have something to show you, if you’ve got a few minutes.”
“I always have time for you, Mr. Austin. Come below, and I’ll brew up some coffee. I’ll mix in something to chase away the chill.”
“It’s eighty degrees, Mr. Nickerson.”
“No matter. It’s chilly somewhere,” Nickerson said.
They went into the cabin, and Nickerson made a pot of strong coffee, which he laced with slugs of Kentucky bourbon. They clicked glasses, and Nickerson said, “Well, now, what do you have for me?”
Austin opened the pouch and produced the squares of vellum. He handed one to Nickerson. “This is the piece Jefferson acquired from an Indian. Meriwether Lewis came across the other vellum in his travels. Together, they form a map showing the location of Solomon’s mine in Pennsylvania.”
“Wonderful! I knew you could do it. Have you explored the mine?”
“Yes, we have. That’s where we found the vellum sections. They had been placed there by Thomas Jefferson.”
“That’s beyond belief! And what of the relic?”
“The gold Ten Commandments? I think you might know the answer to that question.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“There was another text written under the map. It’s apparently a set of the Ten Commandments that’s quite a bit different from the original. Probably what’s on the gold tablets.”
“Go on, Mr. Austin.”
“These commandments were handed down by several pagan gods, including one who demanded human sacrifice. Now I know you know why you were so worried. The Mideast situation wasn’t the real reason for your concern.”
“Indeed. The Ten Commandments are supposed to be infallible moral guides, declared by a monotheistic god. They provide the foundation for religions followed by millions of people and the underpinnings of Western governmental thought. Some people say they are the inspired source of the legal systems of all Western countries. If the original Ten Commandments were based on pagan writings this frail foundation could be eroded further.”
Austin remembered Baltazar’s predictions.
“Bringing the world yet another source of unneeded conflict,” Austin said.
“Right on the mark. No one knows who had the commandments inscribed on gold instead of clay, but their existence implies validity. Solomon wanted the gold tablets as far away from him as possible. They contained the possibility of instigating unrest in his day. Much as they do today, I might add.”
“You knew when we first talked that the tablets were not in the mine.”
“I’m afraid I did.”
“Then why did you send me on this wild quest?”
“We know where the tablets are, not where they were. The ancient writings say that a Navigator will show the way to Ophir. When we heard about the attempted theft of the Navigator statue and the discovery of the Artichoke file, we feared that someone would track down the mine and that would lead them to the tablets.”
“We, meaning the Artichoke Society.”
“That’s correct. We learned of your role in the hijacking, heard about your team’s reputation, and thought you’d be best qualified for the job.”
“You owe me an introduction to these Artichokes, Mr. Nickerson.”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
He reached for a telephone. After a short conversation, Nickerson said. “How soon can you assemble your team?”
“Almost immediately. Where shall I tell them to meet?”
Nickerson smiled. “A little place called Monticello.”
LATER THAT DAY, Austin, Zavala, and the Trouts, with Angela, walked between the columns at the entrance to the Jefferson mansion. Emerson and Nickerson were waiting to greet them and ushered them over the threshold.
Emerson waited for a tour group to pass. “I apologize for being devious about this matter,” he said.
“Apology accepted,” Gamay said. “If you fill in the blanks.”
Emerson nodded. “You were close. Meriwether Lewis had come across the missing half of the mine map in his travels. He had assumed that it was for a western location. He realized his mistake, and was trying to get it to Jefferson when he was murdered by those who wished to keep the mine a secret. Zeb carried the missing piece to Monticello. With the full map in his possession, Jefferson found the mine, and the tablets. He left the map in the mine. Like Solomon, he decided the tablets were best kept out of sight, and formed an organization to ensure this was the case.”
“The Artichoke Society you said didn’t exist?” Angela said.
“As a member of the society, I’m sworn to secrecy. The original Artichokes consisted of some of the country’s founders. As they aged, they recruited new members to take their place. You might be surprised at the names of current members.”
Austin gave a shake of his head. “I’m not surprised at anything having to do with the subject,” he said. “What happened to the tablets?”
“Jefferson formed a work party that included my ancestor Zeb,” Emerson said. “They found the mine and brought the tablets back here.”
“To Monticello?” Angela said. She glanced around as if the tablets were in plain sight.
Emerson tapped the floor with his shoe. “Under our feet. Preserved in a secret room.”
There was a stunned silence, broken when Trout asked, “Do you think the world will ever be made aware of their existence?”
“That’s up to the Artichokes,” Emerson said. “Maybe future members of the society will decide the time is ripe.”
Nickerson said, “We’re always looking for new members. Anyone on your team would be welcome.”
“Thanks, but we’re away a lot,” Austin said. “But I know someone who would bring youth and intelligence to your group.”
He glanced at Angela, who had wandered off, and was staring at the floor as if she could see through it.
A smile crossed Nickerson’s face.
“Yes. Thank you for the suggestion. And for all your help. I hope it wasn’t inconvenient.”
Austin glanced around at the members of his team. “Not at all. We enjoyed ourselves, didn’t we?”
Paul Trout blinked his eyes a few times. Keeping a poker face, he said, “I can’t wait to write ‘What I Did on My Vacation.’”
NUMA 7 - The Navigator
Epilogue
AUSTIN HAULED IN THE MAINSHEET on his catboat, keeping the big sail tight to the wind, while Carina handled the tiller. She pointed the wide bow toward a turquoise research vessel anchored near a Chesapeake Bay island. As the sailboat came up on the vessel, she made a quick turn into the wind, and the sailboat plowed to a stop.
“Nicely done!” Austin said.
“Thanks. I owe it to my teacher.”
They dropped anchor and got into the catboat’s dinghy. Austin rowed them over to the turquoise vessel, a smaller version of NUMA’s giant research ships used mainly for shallow-water and coastal projects.
As they were going aboard, Zavala surfaced and climbed onto a dive platform attached to the boat. He saw Austin and Carina, slipped his scuba gear off, and came aboard to greet his friends.
“Good morning,” Zavala said. “Here to do some wreck diving?”
“Not today,” Austin said. “We came by to see what you’ve found.”
“Wonderful things,” Saxon said.
He led them to a tank where at least a dozen amphorae were submerged in water to preserve them. “We’ve done preliminary X-rays. These jars are loaded with scrolls. This is bound to be a treasure trove of information. The Phoenicians sailed all over the world. I’m hoping we’ll find charts showing where they traded and descriptions of their voyages.”
“Sounds as if we’re going to have to rewrite the history books,” Austin said.
“We’ve only scratched the surface, Kurt,” Zavala said. “The wreck is loaded with artifacts.”
Austin glanced at the water. “How’s Mrs. Hutchins taking all this commotion?” he said.
“When we told Thelma about the salvage, she admitted that Hutch might be getting waterlogged,” Zavala said. “She agreed to have his remains transported to land, where she could be closer to the old guy.”
Austin offered his congratulations all around. Then he and Carina rowed back to the catboat. As they hauled anchor and set sail, Saxon called out: “See you Saturday, Carina.”
She waved in acknowledgment, and minutes later the sailboat was gliding across the bay under the influence of a steady southwest breeze. They stopped for lunch in a quiet cove. Austin went into the cabin and came back out holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He poured out the bubbly, and they clinked glasses.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” Carina said.
“I gathered that from Saxon’s comment.”
“Saxon has found new clues to Sheba’s tomb in Yemen. He wants me to help him search for it. I still can’t believe I’m Sheba’s descendant, but I’d love to find her resting place. She was a remarkable woman. I said yes.”
“I’ll miss you, but it sounds like a fine adventure,” Austin said. “When will you be leaving?”
“We fly out three days from now.”
“Any suggestions how I should treat Your Royal Highness in the meantime?”
“You’ve got seventy-two hours to find out,” Carina said with an intriguing smile. “That should give you more than enough time.”
Austin set his champagne down and took her glass from her fingers. He gestured toward the cabin.
“No time like the present,” Austin said.