Baltazar went over to a mace that was hanging on the wall with other deadly instruments from medieval days. He removed the mace from its rack and let the spiked ball swing at the end of its chain. Then he stepped between the camera stanchions, raised the handle above his shoulder, and swung.

The ball arched down at the end of its chain, slammed into the statue, and bounced off. The impact produced a sound like an off-key gong. A human being on the receiving end of the murderous weapon would have been reduced to a bloody pulp. The ball had made multiple dents in the statue’s chest, but the serene smile still lingered.

Uttering a mighty curse, Baltazar tossed the mace aside, stalked from the room, and slammed the door behind him.

NUMA 7 - The Navigator

Chapter 31

THE TROUTS WALKED BRISKLY PAST the line of tourists queuing up for a guided tour, turned down a side street, and headed away from the hustle-bustle around Independence Hall and toward the American Philosophical Library, a two-story brick building facing a quiet park.

Angela Worth was at her workstation in the corner of a reading room. She looked up and raised an eyebrow. The striking couple approaching her desk did not seem like the usual researchers.

The man was several inches over six feet tall, dressed in razor-creased khakis and a blue-green linen blazer over a pale green shirt. A color-coordinated bow tie adorned his neck. The tall woman at his side could have stepped out of the pages of Vogue by way of a triathlon. The olive-colored silk pants suit rippled around her athletic body, and she seemed to flow rather than walk.

The woman stopped in front of Angela’s desk and extended her hand.

“Ms. Worth? My name is Gamay Morgan-Trout. This is my husband, Paul.” She smiled, showing the slight space between her front teeth that didn’t diminish her attractiveness.

Angela realized she was slack-jawed. She regained her poise and stood to shake hands.

“You’re the people from NUMA who called yesterday.”

“That’s right,” Paul said. “Thanks for seeing us. Hope it’s not an imposition.”

“Not at all. How may I help you?”

“We understand you were the one who discovered the long-lost Jefferson file,” Gamay said.

“That’s right. How did you hear about it?”

“The State Department contacted NUMA after the NSA deciphered the file.”

Angela had tried to reach her friend at the NSA cryptographic museum. Deeg hadn’t returned her call.

“Did you say the State Department?”

“That’s right,” Gamay said.

“I don’t understand. Why would they be interested?”

“Do you have any idea of what was in the file?” Gamay said.

“I tried to decipher the material. I’m only an amateur. I gave it to a friend at the NSA. What’s going on?”

The Trouts exchanged glances.

“Is there anywhere with a bit more privacy?” Gamay said.

“Yes, of course. There’s my office.”