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." He typed something into his computer terminal."It says here the order was placed on your behalf by George Fontaine…and paid for by Commonwealth Consultants of Fairfax, Virginia.Does that sound right?""Yeah, that's right," Jake said."I just don't understand the boat.""There's an envelope on the front seat with instructions from Mr.Fontaine," the man said."Maybe that will clear it up.""I hope so." Jake thanked the man and walked across the lot to the rental, a white Chevrolet Tahoe with a nineteen foot Bass Tracker.A 90-horsepower Mercury outboard hung from the transom.The big surprise was what he found in the back of the Tahoe—a full complement of fishing tackle, a dive bag of scuba gear, and tanks.Lying on the front passenger seat was an envelope with a note and a State of Tennessee Non-Resident fishing license.He unfolded the note.It read: 'Enjoy your fishing trip, call me when you're underway.'Nothing more.Jake folded the note, slipped it and the fishing license back into the envelope, tossed his backpack on the floorboard, climbed inside the Tahoe, and sat in the plush leather seat.Jake paired his Bluetooth headset to his phone then slipped it around his ear, started the SUV, and pulled away from the Tri Cities Airport.The dash-mounted GPS screen lit up automatically displaying the distance and route to Butler.The woman's electronic voice called out, "Please drive the highlighted route." Son of a bitch thinks of everything.Jake followed the voice's directions and pulled onto Bristol Highway, hit speed dial, and waited.Two rings later Fontaine answered."Been expecting your call.Hope you found everything satisfactory.""What's the punch line?" Jake asked."About the scuba gear?""Nope.Got that figured out.Don't know that I quite understand the fishing gear unless it's to use as a ruse to get into a particular area.In case I'm stopped or something.""A little more complicated than that, Jake.It is your cover to be there because there is a bass fishing tournament on the lake for the next two days.Keep that fishing license on you and play the part.In the bow of the boat you'll find compartments large enough to conceal the scuba gear—tanks and all.""It's been a long time since I dove, George.I'm out of practice.""Gee, Jake.According to your file, you were certified as a Search and Rescue diver in the Navy as well as certified to operate underwater communications equipment.""I was, but it's been probably ten years since I strapped on a tank.""Eleven years, five months, and twenty-one days according to your Navy records.Still, it's like riding a bike, right?""You hacked my Navy records? What else did you hack? Wait.Don't tell me.Do you know where I'll be diving?""I pulled the pre-flood land survey records from the TVA from October of 1946 when they recommenced construction on the dam.The grave of Norman Albert Reese Jr.is depicted on the survey.The family refused to let the TVA or any authorities move their son's body.Old man Reese even knew the valley was going to be flooded before he buried his son there so he had a concrete vault installed with a metal lid bolted onto it.He didn't want his son floating up after the flood.He also put a large marker in the ground at the head of the vault.That's what you'll be looking for.""How deep is it?" Jake asked."As best as I can figure from the topographic and water table charts, should be around sixty feet.Give or take a few feet.Also the water temperature could be as low as the upper 40's.Research indicates the visibility can range anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five feet so that is in your favor.Another thing, according to the topo charts, the knoll where Reese is buried is only about fifty feet from the shoreline so you might be able to shore dive.""How much of this intel do you think Regan and her friend have?""I can't say for sure, but I think it's unlikely they have anything very precise.I think they'll have to search for the grave.It could take them a while to find it.""What about lodging, are they staying someplace in Butler?""Again, don't know for sure.According to the hotel in Banner Elk, the room was booked for two nights.Paid in advance.In cash.I'll keep a tracker on her cell phone.See if they stay in Butler or return to Banner Elk.You know, if the coast is clear, you might want to consider diving tonight."Jake turned the Tahoe onto Interstate 26 toward Johnson City.He was already thinking the same thing as Fontaine.If he could find the grave first then he would be a step ahead of Regan and her friend.It would also give him something far more important.Control.There was another option, he could always follow and locate Regan before she had a chance to make a dive.Confront her on dry land, expose her illegal activities, hopefully acquire whatever she found in the glacier, and then determine what she was retrieving from the graves.But a public confrontation carried with it the possibility of law enforcement involvement, which had to be avoided at all costs—for President Rudd's sake.He'd already had a run-in with the Charleston Police Department and the FBI, fortunately it was handled without consequence to the President.Until he knew what he was involved in, he needed to avoid any volatile situations.Confronting Regan and her friend in public could turn volatile fast."Tell you what, George.Unless Regan decides to go after it tonight, I'll be doing just that." Jake paused."There wouldn't by chance be a dive light in that bag, would there?""Not one dive light, two of them.Along with one replacement battery.""Looks like you thought of everything.Any thing else I should know before I let you go?""Couple of things, Jake." Fontaine said."From what I've found on the Internet, most of the divers have reported a rather heavy layer of silt near the bottom of the lake.Up to eight feet deep in some places so stay away from the lake bed or you'll lose your visibility.""What else?""I sent you some information on possible lodging in the Butler area.I hope it helps.""Thanks, George.I'll take all the help I can get [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]