congressional entry: ‘Resolved, that Dr. Franklin, Mr. J. Adams, and Mr. Jefferson, be a committee, to bring in a device for a seal for the United States of America.’ ”
“My God… I don’t bloody believe it.”
Edie turned to him, beaming. “Unless I’m greatly mistaken, we have our three Triad members.” Grabbing a pencil, she circled three names on their handwritten list: Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson. “As you can see, all three men were members of the American Philosophical Society.”
“Adams and Jefferson… the catheti to Franklin’s hypotenuse,” he murmured, recalling a line from
“In 1776, Franklin became a septuagenarian. Old by any man’s measure. In youthful contrast, Adams was forty-one years of age, Jefferson a mere thirty-three,” Edie remarked, fast proving herself a fount. “Both men were young enough to do the physical legwork to safeguard the Emerald Tablet.”
“Without question, Franklin snared the best of a very fine lot.”
“While I can’t lay claim to being an expert in American history, I do know that Franklin, Jefferson, and Adams also served on the committee that wrote the Declaration of Independence, the famous document having the input of all three men.
“Advocating the light of reason, the hidden stream of knowledge consigned to history’s trash heap.” Hit with a guilty twinge, he glanced at the silver signet on his right ring finger. “Franklin’s committee must have submitted a design for the Great Seal. Do you by any chance know if there’s a record of it?”
Broadly grinning, she pulled a single sheet of loose paper from the volume’s inside cover. “One step ahead of you, Big Red. I had the librarian photocopy this and”—she slapped the sheet in front of him—“guess what? The Triad put the All-Seeing Eye on the design!”
Astounded, his jaw slackened.
As with the emblems on the back of the dollar bill, there were two separate drawings, constituting the front and the back of the proposed Great Seal. On the face side were Lady Liberty and Lady Justice crowned with the All-Seeing Eye. On the reverse, a detailed drawing of Moses parting the Red Sea emblazoned with Franklin’s catchphrase ‘Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God.’ The gratin on the casserole.
“Do you think the Moses reference has anything to do with Franklin’s espionage activity in London?” Edie asked, her attention also drawn to the biblical scene. “After all, Moses was his code name.”
“Rather tongue-in-cheek, don’t you think? I suspect the biblical scene has more to do with the ragtag American colonies severing their ties with the English monarch. This design was, after all, conceived shortly after the Declaration had been signed. Shackles shucked, the Americans will now venture forth to find the Promised Land.”
“I don’t know about you, but there’s no doubt in
“Mmmm… an intriguing notion.” Transfixed, he stared at the photocopied seal as he wrapped his mind around the various pieces of the puzzle.
“What I don’t get is this business about the All-Seeing Eye. As Deists, Franklin, Jefferson, and Adams spurned the superstition and ritual of the ancient religions. So why include a symbol on the Great Seal that so brazenly harkens to Thoth, the Radiant Light of Aten, and the hidden stream of knowledge?”
“It does add ‘a precious seeing to the eye.’ Perhaps the All-Seeing Eye is a red herring,” he suggested.
Edie nodded. “For nearly fifty years, Franklin had the Bacon frontispiece in his possession. Not to mention, he was the grand master of the Philadelphia Lodge. Knowing the All-Seeing Eye was highly symbolic within esoteric circles, he could have used the symbol as a smokescreen. He knew the Freemasons would be searching high and low for the stolen relic, so he cloaked himself in the magi’s mantle. ‘Don’t look at me. I didn’t steal it. I’m a Freemason in good standing.’ ” She chuckled. “You’re right. Benjamin Franklin
“And, as I recall, something of an amateur cryptologist.”
Edie grabbed a sharpened pencil and a blank sheet of paper. “Okay, where do we start?”
“Given that Dr. Franklin purposely hid
“ ‘Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God,’ ” she interjected, transcribing the motto onto the sheet of paper. “Making it the
“Perhaps.” Unlike Edie — who tended to hurl herself at a conclusion — he preferred a more circumspect approach. “There’s a possibility that the phrase is an anagram.”
“Oh, I get it. You think the letters of the motto can be rearranged to make another phrase.”
He grabbed a pencil and began scribbling several word combinations. “We’ll need to shake the tree and see if any fruit falls from the limb.”
“I like
“As do I.” He stared at the remaining twenty-six letters, wondering if they’d undertaken an impossible task. “This may take some time.”
It did. Three hours and fourteen minutes, to be precise. As well as four sharpened pencils and ten sheets of paper.
Physically exhausted and mentally drained, Caedmon turned to Edie. “Well, what do you think? I know, it’s not perfect.”
=
Caedmon underscored the first word with his finger. “This may be an archaic or variant spelling of the word
Edie chuckled. “Personally? I think it’s a colonial typo.”
“Whether it’s a typo or a variant spelling, I think we found our second ‘signpost.’ ”
“I agree,” his partner enthused. “The ‘biblicil aten stone’ obviously refers to the Emerald Tablet, which
“As you have just surmised, we’ve reached an impasse.”
Because without a bloody map, the newly discovered signpost was meaningless.
CHAPTER 67
“ ‘The pale ghost escapes from the vanquished pyre,’ ” Caedmon murmured, glancing about the Christ Church burial grounds.
Standing beside him at the grave site, Edie shuddered. “The joint definitely feels haunted. As in ‘Who ya gonna call?’ ”
Having left Library Hall, they’d been en route to their hotel when he espied a placard publicizing the great one’s grave site. Of like mind, they’d nipped inside the cemetery, hoping to find a signpost inscribed on Dr. Franklin’s last resting place. Perhaps a cleverly worded epitaph. Or an ingeniously designed emblem.
Instead they discovered the humble inscription:
