“Not bad. Pretty good, in fact.” The president motioned with what he held. “Now tell me what this is?”
“We’ve known about symbols on the bricks in the ice pit for a long time. No one ever figured out their implications. We thought it was just something Madison did. Decorative. Or an idiosyncrasy.”
“Is that why there are no pictures of the pit on the Internet?” Stephanie asked.
Katie nodded. “The curators didn’t want any of that Da Vinci Code kind of press, so they sealed it up.”
“And it’s a good thing they did,” Daniels said. “But you haven’t answered my question. What is it I’m holding?”
“I’ve been considering that all the way from Virginia. And I think I know the answer.”
STEPHANIE WAS CLOSELY WATCHING BOTH DANNY AND LUKE. She’d arrived at the White House an hour ago, after finishing with Rowan at the Library of Congress. The senator had spent thirty minutes alone with the Book of Mormon. She’d watched every moment thanks to a closed-circuit feed from a hidden camera used for security in that part of the library. She and John Cole had witnessed Rowan tear a page from the 1840 edition. Cole had winced when that happened, but there was nothing either of them could do. Thankfully, Cole had already examined the book and photocopied the page with the writing. He told her that anomaly had been known for some time, but no one had any idea what it meant. It was one reason why the book was kept in the restricted access collection. Now, it seemed, the mystery may have been solved.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” the president said to them all. “I want to hear more of what Ms. Bishop has to say.”
Stephanie was a little perturbed at Luke for involving an outsider. But she’d learned long ago to choose her battles when questioning her agents’ decisions. They were the ones putting their butts on the line. All were highly trained, smart people. Luke had apparently weighed the options and made his call.
The president carefully laid the glass receptacle on a table.
“In the early 19th century,” Katie said, “vacuum sealing didn’t exist. Canning technology was just beginning to be explored. Preserving something like paper was tough. The first cans were actually made of glass, but tin eventually replaced that. To save fragile things, they would sometimes seal them in glass.”
The hunk on the table clearly held something that resembled a small book.
“Madison was good friends with Thomas Jefferson. Monticello sat only thirty miles away, which in those days was like next door. Jefferson knew all about glass sealing. So maybe he told his good friend James Madison about the technique.”
The president sat silent.
So did Luke.
Unusual for them both.
Not a word of affection had passed between them.
Two peas in a pod.
LUKE WAS DETERMINED TO WAIT HIS UNCLE OUT. DANNY HAD always been a cold one. Interesting how brothers could be such polar opposites. He knew all about his uncle’s sad past, and sympathized some—emphasis on some. Luke’s family had always been close. He and his three siblings got along, brothers in the truest sense of the word. All three of his brothers were married, with children. He was the only one still wild and single.
“Good job getting this,” his uncle said to him.
Had he heard right? A compliment? From the great Danny Daniels? For the first time, their eyes met. “That pain you?”
“Luke—,” Stephanie began.
But the president held up his hand. “It’s all right. We’re blood. And I probably deserve it, anyway.”
That admission shocked him.
“You’re related?” Katie asked.
The president faced her. “He’s my nephew. He probably would never admit to that, but that’s what he is.”
“Aren’t you just full of surprises,” Katie said to him.
He wasn’t interested in mending family fences. He really didn’t give a damn about his uncle at all. He had to be careful, though, around his mother, as she’d always liked her brother-in-law.
The president motioned to the hunk of glass. “Do the honors, Luke. Break it open.”
He wondered about all of the kindness but decided now was not the time to fight. He tested the weight. Maybe two or three pounds. Thick glass. A hammer would be good, but his boot might do the trick. He laid the receptacle on the floor atop a rug and popped his heel down hard. Nothing happened. He repeated and the glass cracked. A third jab and it broke away in chunks.
Carefully, he fished out the small book.
“Let our historian take a look,” the president said.
He handed it to Katie.
She opened its cover and scanned a few of the pages. After a moment she glanced up and said, “Wow.”