The Navigator (NUMA Files 7)

“In those days the slave would have been considered part of Lewis’s estate,” Austin said.

“That’s what I thought. He would have been delivered with other property to Lewis’s family. On a hunch, I went through Monticello’s slave population. I found something quite fascinating.”

She handed Austin a sheet of paper with the names of slaves, their sex, age, and job. Austin perused the roster and passed it along to the table without comment.

Gamay said, “Zeb is listed as a freeman. He was assigned to the house.”

“How did he become free at age eighteen?” Austin said.

“I think it was a reward,” Angela suggested.

“That makes sense,” Austin said. “It was Jefferson’s way of thanking the young man for a service he had performed.”

“The Lewis material,” Gamay said. “I’ll bet he delivered the goods to Jefferson.”

“Do you know what happened to him?” Austin asked Angela.

“He stayed at Monticello, working in a prize position inside the house. He vanished from the roster years later, but that’s not the end of the story.”

She produced a copy of an old newspaper clipping.

Gamay read the clipping. “Our freeman?”

“It says he worked for President Jefferson,” Angela said.

Gamay passed the clipping to Paul. “This is dynamite. He’s in his nineties, and was interviewed shortly bef

ore he died. On his deathbed, he says flat out that Meriwether Lewis was murdered.”

“What are the chances he told Jefferson the same thing?” Austin said.

Paul said, “We think Jefferson knew it was murder all the time but pushed the suicide story, even though it diminished the reputation of his old friend.”

“Jefferson was not above chicanery, but he must have had a good reason,” Austin said.

Paul picked up the ship rendering. “We think he didn’t want to call attention to the fact that he knew about this.”

“I think our next step is clear,” Gamay said. “A trip to Monticello to see if we can learn more about young Zeb.”

Austin was about to say he agreed with the suggestion when he excused himself to answer a phone call. It was Wilmut.

“I’ve got it,” Wilmut’s excited voice said.

“You’ve found the ship’s position?”

“Even better, Kurt. I’ve found the ship.”

Chapter 36

AUSTIN STOOD ON THE DECK of his catboat and gazed out at Chesapeake Bay. The bay was familiar territory to Austin. He had gunkholed nearly every cove and inlet on both shores in the twenty-four-foot-long shallow-draft sailboat he had restored. Despite its wide beam, the catboat was surprisingly fast and maneuverable, living up to its reputation to come about as “quick as a cat.” Austin had a penchant for speed, and liked nothing better than sailing tight to the wind with the big gaff-rigged sail close-hauled in a brisk breeze.

But not today. Austin climbed out of the sailboat and walked back to the parking lot. He helped Zavala unload their bags from the Jeep. After the meeting at NUMA, they had picked up some gear and drove to the boatyard south of Annapolis. Austin had called ahead to arrange with the boatyard manager for the loan of a twenty-foot fiberglass powerboat.

Zavala carried the duffel bags that held their scuba gear. Austin took charge of two plastic cases. They hauled the equipment out onto the slip dock and stowed their gear on board the powerboat. Then they cast off the lines and headed south into the bay. Zavala manned the wheel. Austin consulted the chart and handheld GPS.

Chesapeake Bay is the largest estuary in the United States, stretching two hundred miles long from Havre de Grace, Maryland, where the Susquehanna River empties into the bay, to Norfolk, Virginia. The bay ranges in width from about thirty-five miles wide near the mouth of the Potomac River to less than four miles near Aberdeen in Maryland.

Zavala scanned the wide expanse of sun-sparkled water. “What’s the wreck tally on the bottom of the Chesapeake?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the buzz of the motor.