Adrian finally acknowledged Hailey’s presence with a limp wave directly ahead, toward the building that stood across the two-lane road in front of them. Of course, Hailey recognized the building immediately. Also surrounded by an iron fence, which sprouted upward from a low stone wall, the Massachusetts State House was immense and regal; designed directly after the Revolutionary War by the great Boston architect Charles Bulfinch in his signature American Federalist style, the building was boxy and multitiered, its exterior consisting mostly of sturdy brick and ramrod straight Corinthian columns—and as impressive as it was, all of it overshadowed by the signature gilded dome on top, which could be seen across Boston for miles.

“Originally it was shingled in wood,” Adrian said, as he noticed where Hailey’s gaze had landed, on the curves of that dome that glinted even in the predawn haze. “But they soon discovered that the wood leaked when it rained, so they contracted Paul Revere to sheath the entire dome in copper. He did such a competent job, they didn’t think to gild it in gold leaf until seventy-odd years later. The original copper is still down there, beneath the gold. Pretty ostentatious, the gold, if you ask me. During World War II they painted it gray, to make it less tempting a target for the Germans. They could have just left it Revere’s copper, saved them the expense and the trouble.”

“Revere certainly got around,” Hailey said. “The Constitution, the dome—”

“If you needed something done in copper, he was the man to call. But the State House was more than a simple contract for Revere. He also presided over the laying of the cornerstone. Some of his furniture and silverware made it into the offices and meeting rooms where the governor and the state senate still preside. And, of course, Revere and his friend Sam Adams, who was governor of the state at the time, buried their time capsule here in 1795.”

“Seems like the only thing he didn’t leave here was one of his bells.”

Adrian gave her the slightest of smiles, as he swayed against the fence behind him.

“The bell came later. A lot later.”

Instead of a wave, this time he pointed toward a spot right up against the base of the building, in a small stone courtyard adjacent to the front steps leading into the grand entrance. Hailey squinted but could only make out shadows—something large tucked behind another fence, right up near the orange and red bricks of the first floor.

“The Liberty Bell,” Hailey whispered.