As Moss led them into the space that had served as Jefferson’s parlor, as well as his library and study, the first thing Harvath noticed were the ox skulls and depictions of Minerva around the edge of the ceiling.
Studying the period furnishings, Harvath asked, “What was originally beneath this room?”
“The wine cellar,” replied Moss.
Paul Gilbertson had pointed out in the drawings what appeared to be an attachment point for a rope and pulley system, similar to what was used in Jefferson’s dumbwaiter at Monticello.
Now, that same schematic had led them to Poplar Forest and a room above a wine cellar with the only fireplace in the house from Jefferson’s time that had never needed to be renovated.
Harvath wondered why. Maybe its construction was purposely different from the others; better, stronger for some reason. He also wondered if maybe the secret they were looking for wasn’t necessarily hidden within the mantelpiece, but that the mantelpiece had simply acted as a gatekeeper.
Originally, Harvath had thought the architectural schematic represented some sort of twist on a puzzle box — a diagram that indicated how to manipulate pieces in the correct order which would in turn unlock a panel and reveal whatever Thomas Jefferson was hiding.
Moss pointed to the fireplace on the east side of the room and said, “That’s it there.”
Harvath, Nichols, and Ozbek walked over and examined the mantelpiece.
The professor wasn’t very excited. “If whatever it was, was ever here, it’s gone now,” he stated.
“Maybe not,” replied Harvath as he turned to Moss and asked, “Was there a dumbwaiter in this room that would have allowed for wine to be brought up from the cellar?”
The Poplar Forest director shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“You never saw any holes in the floor in here or anything like that which could have been part of a rope and pulley system; even if they could have been part of a system of counterweights for a clock of some sort?”
“None at all. We replaced the floors throughout the house. If there had been holes like that, we would have seen them.”
Harvath went back to examining the mantel, in particular where it butted up against the wall.
“What are you thinking?” asked Nichols.
“I’m thinking of a baptismal font in a church I know of,” said Harvath as he leaned his shoulder into the mantel and tried to give it a shove.
“What does a church have to do with what we’re looking for?” asked Ozbek.
Harvath borrowed the architectural document from the professor and set it atop the mantel. “Paul Gilbertson at Monticello said he believed this was a cutaway drawing of a mantelpiece, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, what if it was more than that? What if the movable joinery was actually a type of combination lock?”
“Like the puzzle box,” said Nichols, a note of excitement in his voice.
“What puzzle box?” asked Ozbek.
The professor pantomimed a small box with his hands. “They’re boxes Jefferson was fond of which required pieces to be manipulated in a particular order to get them to open. He kept the wheel cipher in one of them.”
“And the Don Quixote we found in Paris,” added Harvath.
“What difference does it make, though?” said Ozbek. “The original mantelpiece is gone.”
“But not the fireplace,” replied Harvath as he pointed to the drawing. “Gilbertson said he believed this was an attachment point for a rope and pulley system.”
“There was no dumbwaiter here, though.”
“No holes in the floor either,” added Nichols.
Harvath looked at them. “What if it wasn’t for a dumbwaiter system? What if it was for something else entirely?”
“Like what?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as we move this mantelpiece.”