A President with balls.
The first person through the door was the President’s Chief of Staff, Evan Makley. Makley was a 47 year-old career political assistant. A man at the apex of his career, he was tall and thin and his dark hair was streaked with wisps of gray at the temples. Tonight he seemed overdressed in his tailored Armani suit. His outwardly go-getter style and aggressive personality had helped him in political life, overcoming personal tragedies, and propelling him inexplicably toward retaining his Chief of Staff job with the President's almost certain reelection.
During his three years as Chief of Staff, Makley had endured a very messy and public divorce. The media sharks had a feeding frenzy over the divorce proceedings that left him virtually homeless, with minimal visitation rights with his two daughters, and on the brink of financial disaster. His rise to the top hadn't come without a price.
Four feet behind Makley walked the Commander In Chief, Rebecca Rudd, the first woman President of the United States. Tonight, the world’s most powerful woman wasn't wearing her usual attire for public appearances. She was dressed in jeans, a long sleeve white collared shirt covered by a charcoal vest, and black flats. Even behind her casual appearance she presented herself as competent and polished, a woman of unwavering integrity and passion. Short in stature but admired and respected by most of the world's leaders. The press nicknamed her No-Bull Becky, which the public adored. So much so that she had held an impressive 85 % approval rating for over two years.
She often quoted Abraham Lincoln to the press, her favorite quote was: Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm. And Rudd walked the talk.
She pushed past Makley toward Wiley and embraced him with a hug followed by a kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you again, Elmore."
Jake was surprised by the informal and intimate appearance of their relationship and wondered how long they'd known each other.
In her flat shoes she was shorter than she looked on TV; must have been the heels Jake concluded. She had graying blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. She looked fit and toned and her voice, warm and friendly.
“Madam President,” Wiley pointed across the table. “As you requested, my two most trusted emissaries. Jake Pendleton,” he swept his arm to the left, “and Francesca Catanzaro.”
“Mr. Wiley has spoken highly of both of you. Please excuse the lateness of the hour but it was unavoidable." Rudd leaned down and pressed a button on her console. Two flat-screen TV monitors rose from a cherry hardwood table at the end of the conference room. "I trust you understand this is strictly off-the-record and classified.”
Jake and Francesca nodded.
“What you are about to see and hear carries with it issues so sensitive that not even my National Security Council is privy to it.” Rudd placed her finger on another button. “Any questions before we get started?”
2
Ashley Regan sat on a rock at the base of the Leiter, an iron peg staircase on a steep rock wall; the first real obstacle of her annual hike to the summit of Zugspitze. She pulled her climbing harness and helmet from her backpack and placed them down beside her. Her partner, Sam Connors, was still a hundred feet from the base.
“Come on, Connors.” Regan shouted. “Get your ass in gear. We don’t have all day.”
“Yes we do.” Connors yelled back. “And by my calculations, we’re ahead of schedule.”
Regan knew Connors was right; they were ahead of schedule by at least an hour over last year’s hike to the summit.
She and Connors met two years ago at this very spot. Connors had been resting when Regan approached and started a conversation. The two hiked together that day to the summit and by nightfall, Regan knew their newfound friendship was destined to turn into a romantic involvement. Just like last year, they were celebrating the anniversary of their first meeting by scaling the same mountain on the same date.
When the two returned to the States after their first meeting, Connors, a work-from-home day-trader, moved from Atlanta to Charleston, South Carolina where Regan was a CPA with a prominent accounting firm. The physical attraction was strong between Regan and Connors. The 31-year old Regan had two inches and ten pounds on the younger 27-year old Connors. By most standards, Ashley Regan was considered tall for a woman, 5’9”, tanned with shoulder length thick brown hair and hazel eyes. Sam Connors, her polar opposite, had short, dirty blond hair, fair skin, and a prominent nose. Both enjoyed hiking and rock climbing and stayed in excellent physical condition.
Initially Regan wasn’t sure they’d get to hike to the summit since the forecast called for rain, but the couple geared up anyway and left the Höllental parking area at 5:00 a.m. — right on schedule. Regan was intent on sticking to a schedule. Something she valued in her profession as an accountant that spilled over into her personal life.
The first part of the hike through the Höllental Gorge was along an easy footpath to the base of Höllental Klamm. The early morning sky was still waking, so headlamps helped them navigate through the dark, narrow gorge. A light drizzle coated the rock and droplets spit down on her as she walked.
Connors was a fair weather hiker and wanted to turn back but Regan insisted they push forward or they would regret it when the weather broke.
As she predicted, by the time she reached the top of the gorge, the sky had cleared and Regan could see their destination in the far distance — the cross at the Zugspitze summit. Regan and Connors passed the hikers’ hut at Höllentalanger without stopping. Many hikers wanted to get an early jump on the mountain and hiked to the hut the night before in order to shave a couple of hours and 600 meters vertical climb off their hiking day. The warning sign next to the hut said the Randkluft, the crevasse that formed between the ice of the glacier and the sun-warmed rock cliff, was very difficult and dangerous.
Regan hated that Connors was a wary climber and not the risk taker she was. But Connors was the cautious type, always gathering information before making a decision. At work and at play. Regan, on the other hand, jumped in headfirst and lived for the thrill. Risk taking and danger was what it was all about. Which made Connors the perfect compliment. Sam Connors kept her grounded. It seemed neither of their personalities matched their respective occupations — a conservative day-trader and a thrill-seeking accountant.
Connors caught up to Regan and sat down on the rock next to her. “I’m going to rest for a few minutes and psych myself up a bit.”
Regan cinched her harness, picked up her helmet, and stood. “Just remember, as long as your harness is fastened to the cable, you can’t fall.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Connors slipped a leg into the harness. “It’s just having nothing under me on the rock face except those small iron pegs bothers me. And you know I don’t like heights.”
Regan let out a short laugh and looked into Sam's blue eyes. “You're such a wimp.”
Jake watched President Rebecca Rudd’s facial expression change. Her furrowed brow and downturned frown spoke volumes of the gravity of her dilemma. She pressed another button on her console and the large monitor on the left flickered then started playing a video. The images were washed out, grainy, and in black and white. Or at least it looked black and white.
“Oops, almost forgot. Evan, get the lights, please.” President Rudd paused the video while Makley dimmed the lights. “Before I begin I must warn you, this video is violent, sexual, and disturbing.”