The Navigator

As the librarian examined the papers, Angela explained her theory about its authorship.

The librarian let out a low whistle. “It gives me a thrill just to touch something that Jefferson held in his hand. This is an incredible find.”

“I think it is,” Angela said. “I’m just guessing that Jefferson encoded a message in those papers. Jefferson was an accomplished cryptographer. Some of the systems he devised were used decades after he died.”

“Obviously, it was sensitive material he didn’t want made public.”

“There’s more,” Angela said. She handed over the printout from the language website.

The librarian studied the sheet for a moment. “Is this website reliable?” she said.

“I’ve always found it to be,” Angela said.

The librarian tapped the Jefferson packet with her long fingernail. “Does your writer friend know the significance of this material?”

“He knows the Jefferson connection,” Angela said. “But he thinks it’s what it seems to be, a manual on how to grow artichokes.”

The librarian shook her head. “This isn’t the first time Jefferson’s papers have gone astray. He lost some ethnological material having to do with the American Indians, and many of the documents he willed to various institutions simply vanished. Did you come up with even a suggestion of what’s in here?”

“Not a clue. This needs a code-breaking computer and a cryptologist who knows how to use it. I have a friend at the National Security Agency who may be able to help.”

“Wonderful,” the librarian said. “But before we contact him I’d better run this by the society’s board of directors. We’ll keep this discovery between the two of us for the time being. This could mean a lot to the society if it’s authentic, but we don’t want to be embarrassed if it turns out to be a fake.”

Angela agreed with the need for secrecy, but she suspected that her boss wanted the opportunity to take full credit if the material proved to be an historical blockbuster. The librarian wasn’t the only one who harbored ambitions. Angela didn’t want to be an assistant for the rest of her life.

She nodded in agreement. “I will do everything I can to honor Mr. Jefferson’s apparent wish for discretion.”

“Very good,” the librarian said. She opened a desk drawer, slid the file in, and shut the drawer. “This goes under lock and key until I can talk to the board. If this is a go, I’ll see you’re recognized for the find, of course.”

Of course. You’ll hog the limelight unless it’s a fraud, then you’ll blame me.

Angela’s smile disguised her seditious thoughts. She stood and said, “Thank you, Ms. Woolsey.”

The librarian smiled and went back to her papers. The discussion was over. As Angela said good night and closed the door behind her, the librarian opened the drawer and removed the Jefferson file. She consulted her address book for a phone number.

She felt a thrill of excitement as she punched out the number. It was the first time that she had used it. She had been given the number by a member of the board of directors, since deceased, who had recognized her cold ambition and asked if she would like to take over a job he was no longer able to handle because of his failing health. She would work for an eccentric individual with a fascination for certain subjects. She had only to keep her eyes and ears open for discussion of these topics, at which time she would be required to make a phone call.

The money arrangement was quite generous for virtually no work, and she had used it to furnish her apartment and buy a secondhand BMW. She was pleased to earn her pay at last. She was disappointed to hear a recorded voice which told her to leave a message. She gave the recorder a brief summary of the Jefferson findings and hung up. She experienced a moment of panic when she realized that the call may have ended her service to the unknown paymaster. But after a moment’s reflection, she concluded with a smile that the Jefferson file could start her off on a new and lucrative career as well.

She would not have been as sanguine had she known that her call could have far more lethal repercussions. Nor would she have been pleased to know that in another part of the American Philosophical Society building, her assistant sat at her desk making a phone call of her own.

Chapter 14

AUSTIN WAS HAVING HIS RIBS bandaged by a ship’s officer who doubled as a medical technician when the sick bay door opened and Captain Lange walked in with Carina on his arm.

“I found this young lady wandering about the ship,” Lange said to Austin, who was sitting on an examining table. “She tells me a knight in shining armor saved her life.”

“My armor has a few chinks in it,” Austin said. In addition to his creased rib, his face was bruised and knuckles were lacerated from the battering he’d suffered during his climb up the pilot’s ladder.

“I’m very sorry about your injuries,” Carina said.

Carina’s face was swollen where the crewman named Juan had punched her. Even with her lopsided jaw, Carina was a striking woman. She was long-legged and slender, and had a head-turning physical presence about her. Her cinnamon-and-cream complexion set off bright blue eyes under perfectly arched brows. Shoulder-length sable hair was tied back away from her face.

“Thanks,” Austin said, “it’s just a scratch. The bullet only grazed me. I’m more concerned about you.”

“You’re very kind. I put a cold compress on my face and that reduced the swelling. The inside of my mouth is a little raw, but my teeth are intact.”

“I’m greatly relieved. You’ll need your all teeth when we have dinner together.”

Carina displayed a crooked smile. “We haven’t even been properly introduced, Mr. Austin.”

Austin extended his hand. “Please call me Kurt, Miss Mechadi.”

“Very well, Kurt. Call me Carina. How did you know my name?”

“This gentleman, who is doing such a fine job patching me up, said that you were a passenger on the ship, and that you’re with the United Nations. Beyond those sketchy details, you are a mystery, Carina.”

“Not mysterious at all. I’m an investigator with UNESCO. My job is to track down stolen antiquities. If anyone is a mystery, it is Kurt Austin. You’re the one who rose from the sea like a merman and saved the ship and the oil platform after you rescued me.”

“The captain deserves most of the credit. He steered the ship away from the rig. If I had been at the helm, we’d all be picking crude oil out of our front teeth.”

“Kurt is being far too modest,” Lange admonished. “He freed me and my crew. While I steered the ship, he fought off the hijackers and saved a piece from your cargo.”

Carina’s face lit up. “You saved the Navigator?”

Austin nodded. “There’s a large object wrapped in canvas sitting on the deck. Might be your statue.”

“I’ll have it moved immediately to a safe place,” Lange said. He called the bridge on his pocket radio and ordered his first mate to round up a work crew.

The mate said that a Coast Guard cutter was on its way and that the shipowners’ representatives were flying in. The captain excused himself and the medical technician went with him, after handing Austin some painkillers.

“I’m curious,” Austin said. “What’s so special about the Navigator?”

“That is what’s so odd,” Carina said with furrowed brow. “The statue is not terribly valuable and may even be a fake.”

“In that case, let’s talk about things we do know about. Like our dinner date.”

“How could I forget your unexpected invitation, especially after your sudden appearance? But first tell me where on earth you came from.”

“Not on earth. On the sea. I was in the neighborhood lassoing icebergs.”

Carina glanced at Austin’s broad shoulders. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he wrestled icebergs. She assumed he was joking until he explained what he had been doing on the Leif Eriksson.

Carina had encountered scores of memorable men in the course of travels around the world, But Austin was truly unique. He had risked his life to save hundreds of people and property worth millions of dollars, fought off hijackers, even killing one of them to rescue her. Yet he was flirting like an impetuous schoolboy. Her eyes roamed