The threat against the President was real.
"Holy Crap." Fontaine reached for the phone. "Mr. Wiley, I think you need to see this."
Wiley entered through the secure complex two minutes later. "What is it, George?"
Fontaine showed Wiley what he had uncovered when he processed the hard drive's contents. Now they knew the reason why caskets had been broken into and what was in them. "Where should we go from here?" Fontaine asked.
"Get a hold of Jake. Tell him what he's looking for. His number one priority is to acquire that book. I want Regan and the other woman alive." Wiley turned to leave, then stopped. "Inform Jake to consider Abigail Love a preemptive sanction. And bring Francesca up to speed. She might need to cover his back."
"Yes, sir."
Wiley stared at Fontaine without saying anything.
"Sir? Something wrong?"
"Wrong? No. Nothing wrong. Just thinking." He paused. "Tell Jake to be discreet. I don't want all of northeastern Tennessee in turmoil because of a shootout on that lake. And, no repeats of Charleston." Wiley opened the door to leave.
"Sir?" Fontaine asked. "In case I run across anything else, where can I find you?"
Wiley looked at his watch. "I'll be in the building for a few more hours, then I'm going to Nashville."
Abigail Love idled the deck boat as she pulled into the cove on Watauga Lake.
She made a quick situation assessment. On the far side of the cove was a man fishing in a bass boat, just one of the dozens she'd seen so far. Not expected, but not unusual, especially in light of the fishing tournament. She could deal with him if need be. The Bayliner cuddy cabin with two women onboard was the only thing of interest to her. She saw a short woman with dark hair lower the antenna, attached a dive flag, and raised it back up again.
Moments later a second woman appeared from the cabin — Ashley Regan. She recognized her from the photos Makley had emailed her. Game on.
She pulled the bow of the boat closer to shore, about seventy-five feet from Regan's Bayliner, walked through the split windshield and let out the anchor line. She walked to the helm, put the boat in reverse and backed up about thirty feet then threw out a stern anchor. She cinched them both snug and shut off the engine.
She stripped off her clothes, revealing her bikini bathing suit underneath, hopped over the transom onto the swim platform and dipped a foot into the water. She scanned the cove. The fisherman was on the other side, maybe a hundred yards distance, looking in the opposite direction. Regan and her friend kept glancing her way.
The morning sun had cleared the mountains and its rays penetrated her skin. She felt its warmth on her dark tanned skin. Beads of sweat lined her forearms. It was already hot and would only get hotter as the day wore on. She glanced at Regan and saw her putting on a dry suit and could only imagine how hot she must be. Love dove into the water and swam out twenty feet and then back.
The water was much colder than she expected. She pulled herself back on the swim platform. Goose bumps covered her from head to toe.
Her ruse had worked. The women were now ignoring her, which is what she was counting on.
Jake didn't like what he saw unfolding in front of him.
Ashley Regan and her friend were gearing up to make a dive to the bottom. They took turns zipping up and sealing each other's dry suit. The smaller woman, Christa Barnett, hoisted the tank and BCD combination onto Regan's back, helping her secure it, then escorted her to the swim platform. Barnett slipped her arms into her own BCD and stood. Within seconds, both women were sitting on the swim platform slipping on their fins. Each pulled on their full-face masks and fell forward into the water.
In the meantime, Abigail Love had shed her clothes down to her bathing suit, took a quick dip in the lake, and had lathered herself with sunscreen. She spread a towel on the bow cushion of the deck boat and lay on her stomach. Jake noticed Love had positioned herself for a vantage point to watch Reagan's boat. And his. No way he could dive with her watching without raising her suspicions.
He started weighing his options when his phone vibrated.
Fontaine.
He slipped his Bluetooth earpiece in and answered the phone while he continued fishing. "Go George."
"It's confirmed, Regan does have a book, a journal of some sort that she found inside the glacier. Perhaps on the corpse itself. You were right…again. I read Wiley in on everything I've found so far. He's not pleased. Looks like the communicated threat to the President is real."
"My instructions?"
"Priority one is the book. Find it and secure it."
"Regan and her friend?" Jake had another strike on the fishing line.
"Wiley wants them both alive." Fontaine paused. "Seen Abigail Love?"
"Looking right at her." Jake watched the deck boat. Love was moving toward the stern with towel in hand. "She hasn't made me. What about her?"
"Expendable civilian target."
"Seriously?" Jake pulled another large mouth bass to the side of the boat.
"Jake, this woman is an assassin. And as a reminder, with instructions to kill you if you get in the way. Wiley's exact words were for you to consider her a "preemptive sanction.'"
"Anything else?" Jake had heard all he needed to hear.
"He said to be discreet. I know that's hard for you."
"You're a regular comedian, you know that, George?"
"I know. Sounded important to Wiley, and I think Rudd as well. He was adamant there was to be no blowback from this at all. Can you do that?"
"Tell Wiley not to worry. I'll sanitize the target area. Where is he now?"
"Said something about going to Nashville. He didn't say why, but if I was a betting man—"
"Spill it, George. I'm sure it's related to my overall mission."
Jake got the abbreviated version from Fontaine and understood the renewed urgency of the situation. He hung up and started connecting the pieces to the puzzle when he heard the ignition of a boat motor.
He turned and saw Abigail Love and the deck boat accelerate away from the cove. He pulled out his mini spyglass and scanned the boat when something caught his eye. The swim platform on Regan's Bayliner was wet and neither Regan nor Barnett had come back onboard.
Which left only one explanation.
Abigail Love had been on Regan's boat.
35
"Christa, what just happened?" Regan noticed the large drop in water temperature.
"Stay calm, Ashley. Nothing happened. Everything is fine."
"No. Why did the temperature drop so fast?" As soon as she submerged Regan noticed how different it was breathing underwater. It wasn't difficult just different. Uncomfortably different. The underwater communication system allowed them to speak to each other, which was helpful, but at times it was troublesome to understand what Christa was saying.
"It's called a thermocline. It's where the water temperature drops faster below the line than above it."
"Is that normal?"
"Yes, perfectly fine. Just means it's going to get a lot colder before we get to the bottom. The good news is we should only have to deal with one thermocline. There might be another one deeper in the lake."
She looked at Christa who was descending down the line attached to the grave marker below. Attached to Christa's BCD was a five-pound mallet. Regan carried the adjustable wrench.
Regan had never been exposed to the underwater world, at least not in a lake. She and Sam Connors had snorkeled in the Keys a few times and once on a reef in Jamaica when they went to the Sandals Resort in Ocho Rios. She'd never been farther than a breath underwater. She was never a strong swimmer, and although adventurous on land, she was skittish in the water.