James Patterson - Thriller - Stories to Keep You Up All Night

When they reached the spot, Jefferson and young Adams rose to greet them.

"Dr. Franklin," said Quincy. "I believe we've broken most of your code, and Mr. Jefferson's headache has quite vanished in the process. But we've still a few questions."

"Broken my code?" scoffed Franklin. "Very well-out with it, if you please."

John Quincy glanced for approval to Jefferson, who nodded for him to proceed.

"First, the delivery of the message by Mme Helvetius," said Quincy proudly. "She tried to arrive privately. When all the world recognized her, you admitted you had a message. But to throw the spy off the trail, you focused on the French version of the song, thereby diverting attention from the words in English- 'Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John, Brother John.' That would give a wholly different meaning."

"And precisely what would that be?" said Franklin, with a pleased smile.

"The mention of 'Brother,'" explained Quincy. "It's the word by which Freemasons greet one another, with no titles like Seigneur, for all men are thought equal, regardless of their circumstances of birth. Then there was the repetition 'Brother John, Brother John.' This would refer to the two patron saints of the Freemasons-St. John the Baptist and St. John the Evangelist- whose saint days are celebrated at summer and winter solstices, indicating a message meant for Masonic, not just Scottish, ears. So 'Are you sleeping,' and 'Morning bells are ringing' would mean 'Wake up, Brothers!' I'm afraid in our decipherment, this is as far as we've come."

"Excellent!" Franklin commended him. "You have covered much ground."

"But, my dear doctor," said Jefferson, "we don't know the real meaning of the message sent by the Masons of Scotland. For surely if there was a spy in our midst, as you say, your story by now has likely raised many eyebrows among London's cohort at this side of the channel-'Bonnie Prince Charlie sailing on the morning tide to become first emperor of the United States!' Do you think anyone swallowed that?"

"I hope so, for it's quite true!" said Franklin. "I should know. I myself was initiated into the very Rite of Kilmarnock I spoke of, not long after my evening in Annapolis in 1759, when I went up to St. Andrews University on the Scottish coast to receive my honorary doctorate. The Bonnie Prince still has an enormous following there, and in America-though not, of course, with General Washington, myself or our fellow Masons. The arrival of a prince of the blood on our shores could be devastating at this moment-so soon after our revolution, with as yet no fixed government and a gaggle of factions bickering like brainless geese. Hence, the urgency of my warning from the Scottish Masons. What better hope have we than to stop the problem before it arrives? And what better chance than to place a bug into the ear of King George III and his British Secret Service? The idea of a Scottish king on the throne of his former colonies should frizzle George's wig something proper!"

"So one coded message was hidden within another," Quincy observed. "'A coup is under way, and the Masonic brethren must awaken to the call!'"

"It has traditionally been our way," Franklin agreed, "to conceal layers within layers.often within other layers."

"But who shall bell the cat?" asked Jefferson. "Who is the spy that carried your message away into British hands this afternoon?"

"I'm afraid I had to suggest someone to divert attention," Franklin said. "So I chose your father, Quincy. Please forgive me. In fact, it's our secretary, Edward Bancroft. We have long followed his movements. Bancroft leaves Le Valentinois each Tuesday night and retires to the gardens of the Tuileries at the heart of Paris. There, at eleven-thirty, under cover of darkness, he deposits a packet of papers inside the hollow of an old oak tree- a packet containing all the intelligence he's gathered from us in the week. The British Secret Service pays him five hundred pounds per annum to spy upon us, and we pay him to spy on them. It's the only way we can be certain that the British are receiving the news we want them to know. When you, my dear Jefferson, replace me in this French mission, I pray you may find him useful!"

Jefferson laughed modestly. "As I often say, I can only succeed you-no one can replace you. It seems now you're a master of the French art of espionage, too. But if that message was calculated to trick the British into thwarting a Jacobite plot, something remains unexplained. Why did you invite us to meet you in the gardens here tonight?"

At that moment, the carillon of water bells from Chaumont's octagon pool began striking the hour of twelve. When the tones had died out, Franklin said, "Invite you? Why, to attend the salon of Notre dame d'Auteuil, of course!"

Mme Helvetius had stood all this time gazing down at the river. Now she said, "The Loge des Neuf Soeurs. They arrive with the water bells."

Slipping from shadow on the river below, they saw a long boat rowed by nine sturdy men that was pulling toward the moonwashed pier.

"Nine muses, and a carillon of bells in E-flat major," Franklin explained to Jefferson. "That is the missing code that you and young Johnnie here were seeking. In both versions of our ditty, one hears three chimes of the bell, three notes that are repeated: Din-Dan-Don.Ding-Ding-Dong. These three notes represent the Masonic code-the number three. Masonic songs are always written in E-flat major, containing a musical signature of three flats-with the E itself being the third note of the octave music scale. The repetition of the bell, three and three, represents three-squared, which is nine, reflective of the name of Madame's lodge down there, filled with musings and dedicated to muses." He laughed.

"But then, at last, as in any code," Franklin added, "there is always that final question which explains all the rest."

Jefferson had joined Mme Helvetius in gazing down at the nine men below, who had lashed down their boat and were disembarking on the pier. Despite the warm night, they were shrouded in black. For a time, no one beside the pool spoke. It was Jefferson who broke the silence.

"Tuesday," was all he said.

"Precisely!" agreed Franklin in astonishment. "What made you think of it?"

"And what does it mean?" asked Quincy breathlessly.

"The message was not about something that would happen on a Tuesday," Jefferson explained. "Nor was it about a Tuesday. No-just as the doctor's Annapolis freres had meant to communicate to him-the message is 'Tuesday'!"

"Ah, oui!" said Mme Helvetius in comprehension. "The Day of Fire!"

"Tuesday," Jefferson added for John Quincy, "was the day in the ancient calendar dedicated to fire. Delphi was the Greek temple of fire, conquered by Apollo, the sun god. The number three forms a triangle, a pyramid, a temple of fire, as its name suggests. And while there are many music scales that contain three flats or sharps, the E that Dr. Franklin mentioned is the only one of these carved above the door of the Delphi temple- a sign so ancient that no one has ever learned what it signified…"

"And do not forget," chimed in Mme Helvetius, "we French have a royal family descended from a Sun King, too! But, like others, this light does not burn so brightly any longer. Perhaps it is time to replace it with a new flame."

"Good Lord!" cried Jefferson. "You are both speaking of revolution! A revolution in France! In Europe! Tuesday really does refer to fire-and Mars, the god of war!"

"I'm afraid," said Franklin, "that I am a very old revolutionary. You know what they say of revolutionaries-'Once it is over, we must vanish, for the fire that destroys cannot build.' But you, my noble colleague, have wits so full of fire they've made your hair fiery red!" He patted Jefferson on the shoulder. "Do not forget, my friend-three knocks, three bells, three points that form a triangle. A square of triangles creates a pyramid of fire. The conflagration is coming. We've already lit the match! Now, come join our colleagues-and may the god Mars protect us all!"