The Last Patriot

CHAPTER 64

Harvath returned to Bishop’s Gate and found the professor in his office. “You’re still up?” he asked.

“Lots to do,” replied Nichols, who then nodded at the manila envelope and soft canvas bag Harvath was carrying.

Approaching the desk, Harvath set the envelope down, opened the mouth of the bag, and withdrew a beautiful wooden box similar to the one the Don Quixote had been kept in at the Bilal Mosque in Paris.

It was crafted from the same hardwoods and included Thomas Jefferson’s inlaid initials. Harvath set it on the desk. “The president said you would know how to open it.”

“One of Jefferson’s many secrets,” replied Nichols as he delicately went to work. He noticed Harvath admiring the box. “A piece of art, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Harvath.

“Are you familiar with puzzle boxes?”

“I had a few of them as a kid,” he replied. “My father and I even made a couple of our own together. Nothing as beautiful as this, though.”

“What was he like?” asked the professor as he slowly unlocked one of the side pieces and then proceeded to the next link in the sequence.

Harvath smiled. “He was tough as hell. But my mother and I knew he loved us-a lot.”

“He passed away?”

“A while ago,” said Harvath. “Just after I got out of high school. He was a SEAL instructor. He died in a training accident.”

The professor looked up from the box. “I’m sorry about that.”

“So am I.”

Moments later, Nichols depressed the inlaid initials and tilted open the lid. The interior of this box was lined with velvet and upon it sat Jefferson’s wheel cipher.

Nichols removed the device, set it reverently upon the desk next to the Don Quixote, and then, almost as an afterthought, handed the box to Harvath to examine.

For several minutes, neither of the men spoke. At last, Harvath broke the silence. “So you’ve got everything you need now. It should be simple from this point forward,” he said as he handed the puzzle box back to the professor.

Nichols laughed. “We’ve come a long way, but I’ve learned that nothing about Thomas Jefferson is ever simple. He has been referred to as the Great American Sphinx. It’s one of the best descriptions I ever heard of him. The same author also made a brilliant comment that when you study Jefferson’s face on the nickel he always looks to the left. As a Democrat, I take great pride in that.”

This time Harvath laughed. Though they had met under less than ideal circumstances, he had grown to like the professor a lot.

“Anything new on Tracy?” he asked.

Harvath shook his head. “Not really.”

“I’m sorry to have dragged you both into this.”

“It’s not your fault. What matters now is that you decipher the Sphinx’s code,” said Harvath with a grin. “If he really did discover missing texts from the Koran and those texts could help moderate Muslims to reform Islam, we need to find them.”

“Speaking of which,” replied Nichols, “I received an e-mail from Marwan Khalifa.”

There was that name again, thought Harvath. Even though the president had vouched for him, Harvath had his reservations. “What did he want?”

“He just got back from the project he was working on overseas. We were supposed to meet Monday at the Library of Congress to put our heads together on everything, but Marwan thinks he has found something useful in his research and wants to meet tomorrow instead.”

Harvath was apprehensive. “Where?”

“That’s the thing. Marwan is worried that someone may be following him. He doesn’t want to come into D.C. He doesn’t even want to go home. He’s staying in a hotel and wants to meet near there; where he knows the area and feels comfortable.”

“Where’s that?”

“A

Harvath knew A

“In typical Marwan fashion,” said Nichols, “he has chosen a location rich with symbolism and more than a hint of irony.”

CHAPTER 65

ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

SUNDAY MORNING

The United States Naval Academy was located across the Severn River from the Naval Surface Warfare Center along the banks of the Chesapeake Bay.

Referred to by some as The Boat School or Canoe U, The Academy, as it was more appropriately called, was the undergraduate college responsible for educating future Naval and Marine Corps officers. It was also home of the Navy football team.

Though Harvath had done his undergrad work at the University of Southern California he had been to the academy a handful of times. On three of those occasions, he had eaten at the academy’s private Officers’ amp; Faculty Club. At the end of each meal he had walked east across the street and down a simple brick pathway to admire the oldest military monument in the United States.

Known as the Tripoli Monument, it was sculpted in 1806 to commemorate the heroes of the first war against the Barbary pirates. Echoing seventeenth-century allegorical style it was made of the same Italian Carrera marble used by Michelangelo. Its central feature was a tall “rostral column” identical to the one used in Rome’s Colosseum. It was studded with the carved prows of enemy ships and capped with a majestic American Eagle.

The square pedestal upon which the column rested depicted the turbaned heads of Islamic pirates.

Around the outside of the monument were a winged angel representing Fame and a female scribe representing History recording the deeds of the brave American heroes who fought against the Muslims. Commerce was shown honoring the heroes’ role in preserving America’s right to trade unmolested by the Muslim pirates in the Mediterranean, and finally a maiden with two young children at her feet represented America.

Upon the monument were carved the names of six heroes, cited by Congress for their gallantry, who took brave action on “the shores of Tripoli” against the Muslim pirates before Tripoli’s “pasha” finally relented.

It was a moving tribute to the brave Americans who stood toe-to-toe with Muslim fundamentalists. Before being moved to the academy, the monument had actually stood in front of Congress. There were many, including Harvath, who thought it should be moved back there as a reminder to the Nation’s elected officials of the true nature of the enemy America faced today and the need to stop putting politics and political correctness above principles.

As optimistic as Harvath tended to be, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell the monument would ever be relocated back to Congress. In fact, there was a movement being spearheaded by a high-ranking Muslim Pentagon official named Imad Ramadan to have it destroyed because it was “offensive” to Muslims and more particularly to Muslim sailors of the U.S. Navy. Ramadan claimed it was beneath the country’s dignity to denigrate Muslims in such a fashion.

Harvath had met Ramadan twice while working at the White House and had thought he was full of shit. From what he could remember, the man had been born somewhere in the Middle East and had immigrated to America for college, after which he spent two decades with the Air Force before joining the Department of Defense. Though his position involved defense affairs, the only affairs he seemed concerned with were those of Muslims-American or otherwise.

He had come as part of a Pentagon delegation to discuss Muslim outreach programs with the president, who had been wise enough to distance himself from the groups Ramadan was trying to get invited into the oval office for cozy photo ops.

Like many Islamic apologists, Ramadan seemed to be in a state of perpetual outrage. Coming on the heels of his orchestrating the firing of the Defense Department’s Islamic jihad specialist for telling the truth about Islam and how it inspires violence, his call to tear down the Tripoli monument rang absolutely hollow. The majority of the people engaged in the war on terror wondered how this Islamist in sheep’s clothing was able to keep his job, especially at a place like the Pentagon. The ru