The Last Patriot

It took him several minutes to figure out how to get it all the way off and when he did, he handed it down to Ozbek who set it carefully on the floor and went back to holding the ladder. The entire inner workings of Jefferson’s Great Clock were now exposed.

“Do you see the gear?” asked Nichols. “Is it there?”

There were plenty of gears, but nothing that resembled what was in the schematic. Harvath looked down at the curator and asked, “Is there any way we can stop this for a minute?”

Ferguson looked at her watch and then out the window where visitors were already starting to mill about and gather near the portico.

“Susan?” Harvath repeated. “I need to stop this clock for a minute.”

The curator took a deep breath. “Okay. Here’s how you stop it.”

Once all the movement had ceased, Harvath was able to reach his hand inside and better examine the mechanics.

He wasn’t having any luck. He asked Nichols to hand up the schematic and he checked each gear against each of the gears in the drawing.

He then had Nichols hand up the architectural drawings and compared them to the carpentry work around the clock and the entablature along the wall. It was close, but not perfect. It had all seemed so right, but yet they were missing something.

“We open the doors in two minutes,” said Ferguson. “Do you see anything at all?”

“Nothing,” replied Harvath as he handed the diagrams back down to Nichols.

With the curator walking him through it, Harvath restarted the clock and then replaced the housing. He climbed down the ladder and hung it on the nearby wall.

“I don’t understand it,” said Nichols. “It seemed like the perfect fit.”

Harvath borrowed the architectural detail again and looked at Ferguson. “Maybe this diagram is the clue to what we’re looking for. If Jefferson drew it, he probably drew it for here, right? So what should we do? Go room by room? I know the second and third floors aren’t open to the public. Maybe we should start up there.”

“Or the stone weaver’s cottage,” offered Nichols.

“There wouldn’t be carpentry like this in the stone weaver’s cottage,” said Ferguson as she bit the inside of her cheek in thought. She then pulled the walkie-talkie from her belt, changed its channel, and spoke into it. “John, this is Susan. Do you copy?”

A moment later, a man’s voice came back over the radio. “Go ahead, Susan.”

“Do we have Paul Gilbertson on the docent schedule today?”

“Who’s Paul Gilbertson?” asked Nichols.

Ferguson motioned for him to hold his question.

A moment later, the voice replied, “Yes, we do. He’s leading the architectural study tours.”

“Will you please ask him to meet me up at the main house right now? Tell him it’s urgent.”

CHAPTER 79

Paul Gilbertson was a large, Santalike figure in his early seventies with a full beard and glasses that dangled from a cord around his neck. His hands were rough and his fingers looked like thick pieces of rope. A Leatherman tool hung from a nylon sheath on his belt.

He accepted the architectural schematic from Nichols and put his glasses on. With the tip of his tongue between his teeth, he made sucking sounds as he studied the drawings. After turning the document around in his hands he said, “Even without knowing what all of the coded words mean, this definitely looks like Jefferson’s handiwork. They have Palladio written all over them,” and then he went back to making the noises with his tongue.

Harvath looked at Ferguson. “What’s Palladio?”

“Andrea Palladio was a Renaissance architect. Jefferson was completely self-taught in architecture and referred to Palladio’s four books on the subject as his bible.”

A couple of minutes later, as if being led by the drawings, Gilbertson walked away. The rest of the group quickly followed.

They entered the dining room and watched as Gilbertson scrutinized the woodwork around the doors and windows.

As they did, Harvath discovered a clever revolving serving door. It looked like a regular door, but it didn’t have hinges. Instead, it had a rotating pin, fastened at the top and bottom in the center of the door. Food apparently could be loaded on to shelves affixed to the back of the door and then it would be turned outward to present the food to the dining room without a servant ever having to enter.

As Harvath spun the door back to its original position, Gilbertson shook his head and said, “This isn’t a diagram for door surrounds or molding.”

“What is it then?” asked Nichols.

The docent moved away from the window and crossed to the wall. “One of these,” he said.

“A fireplace?” replied Harvath.

The man nodded. “I think it’s a design for a mantelpiece.”

Nichols looked at him. “Are you sure?”

“To be completely sure,” he replied, “I’d need a full drawing, not just a sectional. But with a full drawing, almost anybody would be able to tell what they were looking at.”

“Why do you think it’s a mantelpiece?” asked Harvath.