McCullough chuckled at the allusion. “No Hogwarts that I know of, but the Flat Hats had a secret handshake. They used to meet and talk on a regular basis. Jefferson admitted, in his words, that the society had ‘no useful object.’”
Gamay steered the professor back on topic.
“Could you tell us what you know about the Artichoke Society?” she said.
“Sorry for going off on a tangent. I was researching my paper in the university library and came across an old newspaper article. A reporter claimed that as he rode up to the mansion hoping for an interview with the ex-president, he had seen John Adams getting out of a carriage in front of Monticello.”
“A reunion of the Founding Fathers?” Paul said.
“The reporter couldn’t believe his eyes. He went to the door of the mansion and talked to Jefferson himself. Jefferson said the reporter was mistaken. He had seen a local plantation owner who had come by to discuss new crops. Asked what kind of crops, Jefferson smiled and said, ‘Artichokes.’ He reported the conversation, noting that Jefferson’s friend looked like Adams.”
“Who first suggested that the Artichoke Society actually existed?” Angela asked.
“I’m afraid I’m the culprit.” McCullough had a sheepish expression on his ruddy face.
“I don’t understand,” Gamay said.
“I did a ‘What if?’ Suppose there had been a meeting as described. Why would the Founding Fathers get together? Travel wasn’t easy back then. I wrote a humorous article for a university publication based on the story and the UVA penchant for secret societies. I had pretty much forgotten about it when your writer friend called last week. He had come across a Jefferson paper on artichokes at the American Philosophical Society. A Google search turned up my article.”
“Angela works for the Philosophical Society,” Gamay said. “She’s the one who discovered the paper.”
“Quite a coincidence,” McCullough said. “I told Mr. Nickerson the same thing.”
“Who is Mr. Nickerson?” Gamay said.
“He said he was with the State Department. He’s a Jefferson history buff, and he had read my article, wondered what else I knew. He was going to look into it, but he never got back to me. Stocker called last week. Then you.” He checked his watch. “Damn. This is fascinating stuff, but it’s almost class time.”
Paul handed him a business card. “Please give us a call if you think of anything else.”
“I will.”
“Thanks for your help,” Gamay said. “We won’t delay you any longer.”
McCullough shook hands all around and rolled off to his class.
PAUL WATCHED the
professor make his way across the lawn.
“In the file Kurt sent us at Woods Hole, he mentioned that he had been asked to look into the Phoenician puzzle by a State Department guy named Nickerson. He met him on an old Potomac River yacht.”
“I recall the name. Think it’s the same person?”
Paul shrugged and flipped open his cell phone. He scrolled down the index until he found the number of a State Department staffer he had worked with on ocean jurisdiction issues. Moments later, he hung up.
“Nickerson is an undersecretary. My pal at Foggy Bottom doesn’t know him personally but says Nickerson is an insider and a survivor. He’s considered brilliant but eccentric, and he lives on an antique yacht on the Potomac. He gave me the name of the marina but not the yacht. How about making a quick stop along the Potomac on the way home?”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if we knew the boat’s name?” Angela said.
“If we liked doing things the easy way, we wouldn’t be working for NUMA,” Paul said.
THE SEARCH FOR Nickerson’s boat was tougher than the Trouts had anticipated.
A number of boats could have qualified as old, but only one—a white-hulled motor cruiser named Lovely Lady—that fit the bill as an antique.
Paul got out of the SUV and went over to the boat. The deck was deserted, and there didn’t seem to be any signs of life on board. He walked up the boarding plank and called hello a couple of times.
No one answered from the yacht, but a man popped his head out of a cabin cruiser in the next slip.