Jake pointed to the next report. "The sheriff in Dahlonega conducted a thorough investigation. The entire scene was marked off and sealed. A deputy on night patrol saw a car in the cemetery and went in to investigate. The car sped off. The deputy assumed he'd just interrupted some teenagers making out in the car and didn't pursue them. When he saw the damage to the grave, it was too late to catch whomever was in the car."
Jake gingerly pushed some photos in front of Rudd. "Apparently the deputy startled our grave robbers and we got our first real piece of evidence. Footprints. And what we found is that we have two perpetrators. The footprints appear to be those of women."
Rudd looked up. "Women? Interesting."
"After Charleston, I realized we had a pattern. Only white soldiers' remains were being disturbed. I have no idea yet what that means. It just seems to be the pattern. At the Charleston cemetery, the glass seal on the casket was busted with something like a sledgehammer and the body moved. But, as with every incident, nothing seems to have been taken from any casket."
"So, what's the point?" Rudd asked. "Seems like a lot of trouble for nothing."
"I've heard that before." Jake pushed a picture of a license plate in front of the President.
"What's this?"
"My first real lead…or at least what I thought was a lead." Jake paused. "When Francesca and I went to the cemetery earlier today, I noticed a traffic cam mounted on the signal at the entrance to the cemetery. We accessed the video from the night of the break-in and this is the only vehicle that entered all night. It was in the cemetery for almost thirty minutes and then left."
"Excuse me," Rudd interrupted, "but where is this location?"
"Charleston. Not sure if this is relative, but the car belongs to a rental car company and was rented to a local woman named Ashley Regan. We are trying to track down her car now without alerting law enforcement. But the rental car being in the cemetery may not mean anything."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because Ashley Regan's parents are buried in that cemetery. Which gives her a legitimate reason to be there. The questions needing answers are why the late hour visit and why the rental car?"
"Maybe you should have a talk with this woman just in case."
"Yes, ma'am. I plan to pay her a visit very soon."
Rudd tapped her finger on the scribble she made earlier. "So, if this is not racially motivated," Rudd gave him a stern look, "what is your gut feeling?"
Jake took a deep breath. He remembered what Wiley told him earlier and tried to choose his words carefully. "The evidence doesn't point toward anything racial. So far we have four black and three white World War II soldiers' caskets that have been broken into. I don't see why the Army can't take over from here."
"But you think there is something else, don't you? Maybe something bigger."
"I haven't had enough time to thoroughly analyze all the data but I did find some things in common with all the break-ins." He waited for her to acknowledge him to continue which she did with a nod of the head. "First, all were soldiers who died in World War II in Germany. So far all the casualties were from 1944 or 1945. Second, every soldier's body was mutilated and in each instance the ceremony was closed casket. Third, they were all buried in the same model casket by the same company. The Springfield Metallic Casket Company, which went out of business in 1974. Fourth and probably the most significant is that every soldier whose casket had been disturbed was packed, crated, and shipped straight through to their destination by the same person. Major Don Adams of the United States Army."
"Interesting." Rudd paused. "Where is Major Adams now?"
"Don't know." Jake noticed the puzzled look on the President's face. "According to Army records, Major Adams disappeared during a blizzard in 1946. He was stationed at the commandeered resort at the summit of Zugspitze on the Austrian/German border."
Rudd was silent for an awkwardly long few seconds. "Do you have any hunches?"
"Only guesses. Just a hypothesis at this point."
"I'd really like to hear your thoughts. Please, share."
Jake paused. The intensity of President Rudd's blue-eyed stare made him nervous. He was sitting in the Oval Office, face to face with the most powerful person in the world. And she had asked him for his advice. "I think Major Adams put something in these caskets and shipped them here and now someone is finally getting around to retrieving them."
Rudd leaned back in her chair for the first time. "Sounds a little far-fetched." She steepled her hands beneath her chin. "But, let's suppose for a minute that you are correct. How old would Major Adams be now?"
"In his nineties."
"A little old to be running around robbing graves, don't you think?" Her tone sounded maternal and somewhat condescending. Both of which struck a slight blow to his ego. "And, if he were still alive, why would he wait until now to retrieve whatever he secreted away?"
"Like I said, ma'am, it's only a hypothesis. I have nothing to back it up."
Rudd smiled. "I want you to find the woman in Charleston and rule her involvement in or out. Wiley has bragged about your intuition. How long do you need to thoroughly analyze what you know so far?"
"At this point, I'm not sure. A few days. Maybe as long as a week."
"Jake, always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other."
"Yes, ma'am. I believe Lincoln once said something like that."
Rudd smiled. "He said exactly that."
Rudd opened her desk and pulled out a plain white business card.
She turned the card over and wrote a phone number on the back. She held it out toward him. "Jake, this is my personal cell phone number. Only a handful of people have this number. Now you do too. It goes without saying that you are not to share it with anyone. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am." He took the card from her. In raised gold letters centered in the middle of the card it read:
Rebecca K. Rudd
President of the United States
He flipped it over, and read the number. He quickly handed it back to her. "I won't need to keep the card."
She asked and he repeated the number verbatim.
"Jake, Elmore told me, that if I needed it, you were at my disposal. I want you on this as my personal…what's the term Mr. Wiley uses…?"
"Emissary?"
"Yes, Jake. Emissary. For the foreseeable future anyway, I'll need your services. But most of all, I need your allegiance." Rudd placed everything Jake had given her in a folder and stood. "Check in with me personally every night at 2300 hours Eastern time with a progress report. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Rudd pressed a button and the Secret Service agent opened the door. "Max will escort you to the gate."
President Rebecca Rudd watched the young man leave the Oval Office. As her Secret Service agent closed the door, the door behind her opened and an elderly man walked in.
"Do you think he knows I'm sending him into a den of lions?" Rudd never took her eyes off the door where Jake Pendleton exited.
"No, Rebecca, he doesn't."
She looked at the wise old man. Her first encounter with him was when she was Secretary of State for her predecessor. She found him and his organization to be a resource she could call on to accomplish certain agendas that could not be handled through diplomatic channels. On more than one occasion she had covered the previous President's ass by utilizing the services of the man in front of her.
"I'm not sure I understand why you couldn't have been in here while Mr. Pendleton gave me his briefing," Rudd said.