MALONE ENTERED THE GRIFFIN DISCOVERY ROOM, LOCATED on the ground floor of the visitor center. The curator had explained that the facility was designed as a hands-on activity center for children, intended to teach them about the estate, Jefferson, and life in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Scattered about the organized space was a reproduction of the estate, a facsimile of Jefferson’s alcove bed, a nail-making shop, a slave dwelling, a weaver’s studio, an exhibit that allowed the wielding of a blacksmith’s hammer, and a duplicate of Jefferson’s polygraph machine. Several children, their parents watching, enjoyed the self-directed activities.
“This place is popular,” the curator told him.
Cassiopeia, Edwin Davis, and the estate manager had come, too.
He spotted the replicated wheel. Three kids were spinning its tan-colored disks.
“It’s made of resin,” the curator said. “The original is far more fragile. Those disks are carved wood, over two hundred years old, about a quarter inch thick, and crack easily.”
He caught the concern in her voice. “I’m sure the thief is going to be careful.”
At least until he deciphers the message, he silently added.
The kids fled the wheel exhibit heading for something new. Malone walked over and examined the twenty-six disks threaded onto a metal rod. On the edge of each were black letters, separated by black lines.
“Do you have the sequence written down?” the curator asked.
“He doesn’t need it,” Cassiopeia said, adding a smile.
No, he didn’t.
His eidetic brain rattled them off.