Templar's Code

CHAPTER 65

We mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.

On the sheet of parchment, beneath those immortal words, were penned fifty-six signatures beginning with the most flamboyant, that of John Hancock, the president of the Second Continental Congress. Several of the names were famous. Others known only to students of American history. All were considered Founding Fathers of the fledgling nation that on July 4, 1776, officially took its place on the world stage.

“A daunting task, eh?”

Tell me something I don’t already know, Edie despondently thought, making no reply to Caedmon’s wry observation.

Sitting side by side at the library table, an open book placed squarely between them, they stared at a copy of the Declaration of Independence. Next to the library book was a new Dell netbook computer, a small stack of plain white paper, and four sharpened lead pencils, the only supplies permitted in the reading room at Philadelphia’s Library Hall. Located around the corner from Independence Hall, where the Second Continental Congress met in 1776, Library Hall was owned by the American Philosophical Society. As with the parent, the library had been founded by Benjamin Franklin.

Edie’s gaze alighted on the top sheet of paper, which was noticeably blank. If a picture was worth a thousand words, that blank sheet of paper did not bode well.

Not quite ready to throw in the towel, she said, “We’re looking at the signatures of the best and brightest men the colonies had to offer. A list that includes men from all walks: lawyers, farmers, businessmen, and professional politicians. We know that Benjamin Franklin intended to recruit two men from this group to help him safeguard the Emerald Tablet.”

“The Triad,” Caedmon said in a lowered voice. The floor-to-ceiling bookcases, Georgian windows, and colonial-style chandeliers invited reverential tones.

“Any idea how to whittle down the list?” She pasted a chipper smile on her face, hoping the nonstop flight from London to Philly wouldn’t prove a colossal waste of time, energy, and money.

Caedmon thoughtfully stared at the open book. “I suspect that Franklin’s Triad would not have included any Freemasons,” he said after a lengthy pause. Then, smiling slightly, he amended, “Aside from the wise sage of Craven Street himself.”

“I agree. It would defeat his purpose to have an initiated fox stand sentry. And Franklin made it very clear in The Book of Moses that he considered the Freemasons ‘a superstitious coven of sun-worshipping Atenists and bewigged magi.’ ”

“His own membership in the group simply a means to an end. A way to get his leather-shod foot in the drawing room door.”

“The old coot was wily, I’ll give him that,” Edie said with a chuckle, still amused at how Franklin pilfered the Emerald Tablet. “We should be able to find an online list of signatories to the Declaration of Independence who were also Freemasons.”

“Right.” Caedmon deftly pecked away on the computer keyboard. Because of his publishing credentials, he’d managed to secure a researcher’s pass for the both of them, the library open only to academics. “There you have it, the rogue’s gallery,” he announced a few moments later, jutting his chin at the roster of names on the computer screen.

William Whipple

John Hancock

Robert Treat Paine

William Ellery

Richard Stockton

Benjamin Franklin

William Hooper

Joseph Hewes

George Walton

“Our task has been rendered slightly less daunting.”

Edie examined the list of Freemason/Founding Fathers. “Just so you know, there’s no doubt in my mind that every one of these guys was a loyal patriot,” she avowed, refusing to sling mud—even at a sun-worshipping Atenist.

“What you reckon as patriotism, King George and his ministers deemed treason.”

Not wanting to fight another revolution, Edie decided a change of subject was in order. “Okay, we’ve reduced the roll call to forty-seven signatories. Which is still a far cry from Franklin’s two-man tag team.”

“Not to fear, I have another trick up my sleeve.” Blue eyes mischievously twinkling, Caedmon’s fingers furiously pecked away at the keyboard.

“What are you doing?”

“Accessing the member database for the American Philosophical Society. In those turbulent months leading up to the final break with Britain, loyalties were shifting and uncertain. Franklin couldn’t be too careful in his selection.”

“I seem to recall from a long-ago history lesson that Franklin’s own son William, who happened to be the governor of New Jersey, remained loyal to the Crown. So, what are you thinking? That Franklin would have recruited the other two members of the Triad in-house?” Raising her arms, Edie gestured to the four walls of the reading room. “Specifically this house.”

Still typing, Caedmon nodded. “Franklin was searching for two trustworthy, like-minded men possessed of ‘a keen intellect and a stalwart heart.’ ”

“Given that the American Philosophical Society was Franklin’s homegrown answer to the Royal Society, all of the members would have satisfied the first criteria.”

“However, unlike its English template, Franklin was determined that his society would be free of the elitist taint associated with the Royal Society. Ah! I give you the American Philosophical Society circa 1776.” Caedmon expansively gestured to the monitor.

John Adams

Stephen Hopkins

John Witherspoon

Francis Hopkinson

Robert Morris

Benjamin Rush

Benjamin Franklin

George Clymer

James Wilson

Thomas McKean

Francis Lightfoot Lee

Thomas Jefferson

John Penn

Thomas Heyward, Jr.

“At least all the members who signed the Declaration of Independence.” Edie quickly took a head count. “Including Franklin, I get fourteen fellas.” She grabbed a pencil and jotted all fourteen names onto a sheet of paper. Then she opened The Book of Moses file on the laptop. Since they couldn’t bring any outside materials into the library, except for the computer, she’d taken digital photos and copied them onto the Dell. She quickly scrolled to the last page. Gnawing on her lower lip, she ruminated on Franklin’s checklist of “suitable” criteria. “We’re trying to unravel a two-hundred-and-thirty-five-year-old mystery but coming at it backward.”

“I admit we have scant clues to go on. And the few crumbs that Franklin drops are interspersed with political sound bites. Take this, for example—” Using his fingertip, he underscored the last line of handwritten text: “ ‘Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God.’ Makes me want to dress up like an Indian and toss a crate of tea into Boston Harbor.”

Edie absently folded a sheet of blank paper. “Okay, let’s suppose for argument’s sake that Ben did invite two fellow members of the American Philosophical Society to join his Triad. There’s a very good chance the guys simply hid the darned thing right here at Library Hall, concealed within the bowels of the building.” Which, according to the pamphlet she’d picked up in the lobby, housed more than 350,000 volumes and bound periodicals, eleven million manuscripts, and nearly a quarter million images. Including a massive collection of Franklin’s papers, as well as his personal library. The proverbial haystack.

“You’ll be disappointed to know that Library Hall was constructed in the mid-twentieth century,” Caedmon informed her.

“You’re kidding! I would’ve sworn this was a colonial-era building.”

“A very convincing reproduction, I’m afraid. And the building across the street, which is the official headquarters for the American Philosophical Society, was constructed in 1789. Twelve years after the Second Continental Congress disbanded. So while Dr. Franklin may have transported the Emerald Tablet to Philadelphia, I suspect the City of Brotherly Love was merely a way station.”

“Great.” Edie glanced down, bemused to see that she’d made a paper airplane. Hit with a childish impulse to send it sailing across the room, she instead shoved back her chair and rose to her feet. “I need a time-out.”

“I’m not about to let you gallivant on your own. I’ll accompany you.”

“To the ladies’ room? I think not.” She put a staying hand on his shoulder. “Besides, I don’t intend to gallivant any farther than the lobby.”

“The bastard followed us to London. He could have followed us to—”

“But he didn’t. We were very careful,” she said over top of him, hoping to nip his concern in the bud. While it was endearing, she didn’t need a bodyguard. She was a big girl and they were in a public building. “Now excuse me while I go to the loo.”

Not giving Caedmon a chance to protest, she did a military-style turn and headed for the exit.

In the lobby—the only area of the library open to the public—a group of school-aged children were being ushered past an exhibit titled “Franklin: Man of Many Words.” As near as she could tell, the exhibit consisted of various pieces of ephemera displayed in glass cases. A generation acclimated to the visual overload of the digital age, the kiddies were clearly bored out of their bonkers. She suppressed a chuckle.

Moments later, about to ask the docent for directions to the restroom, Edie stopped in her tracks. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a blown-up excerpt mounted inside one of the display cases.

She did a double take, stunned at seeing a very recognizable phrase. . . . Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God.