Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“You just have it in your desk,” she muttered as she pulled at the tape. “Anyone could walk in and take it.”
“It hasn’t left my side,” I assured her.
She let out a short grunt deep in her throat, but that was the only acknowledgment I got until the shipping box was opened, and she pulled out a smaller, clear plastic box from within. Inside was what looked like a wooden rolling pin.
I drew on my diminishing store of patience and waited until she’d opened the second box and removed what was inside. I shook my head, staring at it, still not sure exactly what it was. A cylinder of wood, about seven inches long and three inches in diameter, with handles on either end. Sterling held the ends, twisted her fingers, and the wooden barrel shifted.
I gave in to my curiosity. “What is that?”
Sterling’s eyes lit with triumph as she grinned across the desk at me. “A Jefferson cipher wheel,” she said. She held up the device, showing me that what I’d taken for a solid wooden cylinder between the handles was actually a series of discs with what looked like letters around the outside edge.
“How does it work?” I asked, fascinated as much by her excitement as by the cipher wheel itself.
“Each of these twelve discs has twenty-six letters. You turn the wheels to line up the letters in your message. Then you pick another line from the wheels, and that’s your code.”
“And whoever gets the code matches it on the wheel and then turns the wheel until they find a line that makes sense,” I finished, understanding.
“That’s the idea,” Sterling said. “I wouldn’t have figured it out, but my brother Ford read a biography of Jefferson, and look—” She turned the index card around so I could read it and explained what the references in the clue meant.
“My dad always did like biographies,” I said. “So, you’re going to use the wheel to break the code.”
“I hope so,” she said. “I guess we’re going to find out. I need a pen and something to write on.”
I handed her a legal pad and pen, watching as she painstakingly worked her way down the cipher wheel, letter by letter, fighting with the tight fit of the wooden discs. A thought occurred to me. “How do you know all the cipher wheels are the same? I mean, back when Jefferson was using them, they would have been. But now?”
Sterling’s fingers froze, and she looked at me, abject horror flooding her eyes. “I don’t. I don’t know.” She shook it off, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders before going back to work on the next disc on the wheel. “This is the cipher wheel they carry in the Monticello gift shop. I paid extra for overnight shipping. It’s supposed to be an exact replica of the original. Your dad strikes me as the kind of guy who would have used the original.”
She was right—he was exactly that kind of guy. I nodded in agreement, keeping my mouth shut, my eyes locked on the wheel as she matched the code, one letter at a time. It took two full passes down the wheel to decipher the code.
Sterling stared down at the legal pad, her eyes flicking back and forth before she reached out and made four slashes, dividing the line of letters into five words.
Sweet treat under the trees.
Sterling looked up at me. “Sweet treat under the trees. Please tell me you have some idea what that means.”
“Sweet treat under the trees,” I said to myself, thinking.
“Maybe I need to read a Jefferson biography,” she said, staring down at the words on the paper.
A memory shimmered to the surface of my mind. “We have to go back to Willow Springs. He’s talking about the park. We used to have ice cream there after we went to the library.”
Sterling sat back, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “So we go back to the park, and then what? He couldn’t have hidden anything at the park.”
“We won’t know until we go check it out. He got us this far. Anyway, do you have any other ideas?”
“No,” she said, dejected. “I guess we’re going back to Willow Springs.”
I glanced at the clock. “We can’t go today. It’ll be too dark by the time we get there.” I gave my calendar a quick look. Clear. “First thing tomorrow,” I said.
“Fine. I’ll meet you at your house,” Sterling said. She gathered up the cipher wheel, sent a dirty look at the index card sitting on my desk, gave me a short nod, and stalked out of my office.
I picked up the index card and sat back in my chair, my eyes lingering on my father’s precise printing. None of this was what I’d expected when I finally got my hands on my father’s statue of Vitellius. Like everyone, I’d figured the numbers were an account we hadn’t been able to find. Then, when Sterling had determined it was a code, I’d thought that would be it. We’d go to the bank and get the money. Simple and straightforward.