“These commandments were handed down by several pagan gods, including one who demanded human sacrifice. Now I know you know why you were so worried. The Mideast situation wasn’t the real reason for your concern.”

“Indeed. The Ten Commandments are supposed to be infallible moral guides, declared by a monotheistic god. They provide the foundation for religions followed by millions of people and the underpinnings of Western governmental thought. Some people say they are the inspired source of the legal systems of all Western countries. If the original Ten Commandments were based on pagan writings this frail foundation could be eroded further.”

Austin remembered Baltazar’s predictions.

“Bringing the world yet another source of unneeded conflict,” Austin said.

“Right on the mark. No one knows who had the commandments inscribed on gold instead of clay, but their existence implies validity. Solomon wanted the gold tablets as far away from him as possible. They contained the possibility of instigating unrest in his day. Much as they do today, I might add.”

“You knew when we first talked that the tablets were not in the mine.”

“I’m afraid I did.”

“Then why did you send me on this wild quest?”

“We know where the tablets are, not where they were. The ancient writings say that a Navigator will show the way to Ophir. When we heard about the attempted theft of the Navigator statue and the discovery of the Artichoke file, we feared that someone would track down the mine and that would lead them to the tablets.”

“We, meaning the Artichoke Society.”

“That’s correct. We learned of your role in the hijacking, heard about your team’s reputation, and thought you’d be best qualified for the job.”

“You owe me an introduction to these Artichokes, Mr. Nickerson.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

He reached for a telephone. After a short conversation, Nickerson said. “How soon can you assemble your team?”

“Almost immediately. Where shall I tell them to meet?”

Nickerson smiled. “A little place called Monticello.”

LATER THAT DAY, Austin, Zavala, and the Trouts, with Angela, walked between the columns at the entrance to the Jefferson mansion. Emerson and Nickerson were waiting to greet them and ushered them over the threshold.

Emerson waited for a tour group to pass. “I apologize for being devious about this matter,” he said.

“Apology accepted,” Gamay said. “If you fill in the blanks.”