The Navigator (NUMA Files 7)

Trout was more intrigued than discouraged. “Tell me more,” he said.

“I’ve sent you a package by special courier. Should be there by now. It will explain everything. This is urgent. I’ll call first chance I get. Bye.”

“What was that all about?” Gamay said after Trout clicked off.

He explained Kurt’s request. They would have to call it a day. He stared longingly at another cloud of wheeling seabirds. “Damn shame about that fish.”

Gamay pecked him on the cheek. “I saw him. It was a monster. I think it’s my turn to buy the beer.”

THE PACKAGE from Austin was leaning against the front door of the two-hundred-year-old Cape Cod cottage that overlooked a circular kettle pond. Trout had grown up in the broad-roofed house within walking distance of the Oceanographic Institution, whose scientists had encouraged his boyhood curiosity about the ocean.

He and Gamay sat at the harvest table in the kitchen, munching on the ham-and-cheese roll-ups they had prepared for their picnic lunch as they went over the Jefferson file. At one point, Gamay looked up from her reading and blew a strand of dark red hair out of her eyes.

“This is unbelievable!”

Trout took a swig from a can of Buzzards Bay ale. “I’m trying to figure out what we can do. My experience with computer modeling is mostly deep-sea geology. You made the switch from nautical archaeology to marine biology. We could pull something together, but it wouldn’t be pretty. We’ll need help.”

Gamay smiled, showing the slight space between her front teeth, a dental anomaly that somehow looked attractive on her. “Didn’t we hear some gossip last night?”

Trout recalled the gentle ribbing he had received from the local barflies who had heard about his fishing contest with Gamay. Then he remembered someone mentioning a familiar name. He snapped his fingers. “Charlie Summers is in town.”

Gamay handed Trout the phone and he called the research-vessel dock. He got through to Summers, who was working on a retrofit for the Atlantis, and laid out the problem.

“That’s a lot more interesting than what I’m doing,” Summers said. “Can you come over now?”

Minutes later, the Trouts were walking out onto the research-vessel dock. A stocky man with a square jaw and thinning straw-hued hair greeted them with effusive hugs.

Summers was a well-known naval architect who specialized in the design of research and educational vessels. He often consulted in the design of luxury yachts, and was an expert in the stability of large sailing vessels.

He gave Gamay a big wink. “Thought you two would be out fishing today.”

“News of our competition got around fast,” Trout said with a smirk.

“It’s the talk of the town. You know how gossipy fishermen and scientists are.”

“Paul almost beat me today,” Gamay offered.

Summers roared with laughter. “Please don’t tell me it was the one that got away.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. “Now, what’s all this about Phoenicians?”

Trout jumped at the chance to change the subject. “We got a call from NUMA this morning. Someone is doing research on pre-Columbian contact and needed help replicating a voyage. We get a lot of odd requests.”

“Not odd at all. I’ve read reams of material on Phoenician shipbuilding. There’s no doubt from a naval architect’s point of view that they had the capacity to go almost anywhere they wanted.”

“Then you can help us plot a course?” Gamay said.

Summers shook his head. “That’s a tough one,” he said. “The Phoenicians left no maps or charts. They guarded their sea knowledge with their lives.” Noting the disappointment in Gamay’s face, he added: “But we can take a stab at it. Let’s go build us a ship.”

Summers led the way into a brick building where he had his temporary office. He sat behind a computer and clicked off the schematic diagram of the Atlantis that had been displayed on the screen.

“I see we’re going to build a virtual ship,” Trout said.

“That’s the very best kind,” Summers said with a grin. “They never sink, and you don’t have to worry about mutinies.” He called up a computer file and a drawing of a square-sailed vessel appeared on the monitor.

“Is that a Phoenician ship?” Gamay said.

“This is one type, based on pictures from vases, sculptures, models, and coins. It’s an early design. It’s got a keel, rounded hull, oars, and a high seat for the steersman.”

“We’re looking for something capable of deep-ocean travel,” Trout said.