Meeker had just stepped back into the White House’s office wing after a lunch meeting with a supervisor in the OSS, when one of the clerks, Victoria House, waved and cried out, “Helen, an FBI agent called from Chicago. He needs you to call him as quickly as possible. By the way, love that suit.”
“Thanks,” Meeker said as she passed in front of House’s desk. “I picked it up last week at Woosters. They’ve managed to get in some new things in spite of the war. Did the agent leave a name?”
“Yes,” the twenty-four-year-old brunette replied, “Reese. Henry Reese. He said he was calling from Illinois.” She handed her a slip with the phone number.
“So he’s back in Chicago,” Meeker remarked.
“What’s that?” the clerk asked.
“Nothing,” Meeker assured her. “Have the switchboard make that call and when they get Reese, patch it through to my desk.”
“Patch it through.” House laughed. “You’re starting to sound like a spy.”
Ignoring the comment, Meeker made her way down a long hallway and into her small, ten-by-ten, windowless office. It was that lack of window that she most hated. She loathed not being able to see what was going on outside. Doing so just helped her think.
As she moved through her door, the phone rang. It was the switchboard alerting her that Reese was on the line.
“How you doing, Henry?” she asked.
“Except for the cold weather in Chicago, fine. Let me assure you, I do miss Hawaii.”
“Gee, it’s good to hear your voice. When did they transfer you back to the States?”
“About six weeks ago,” he explained. “But I didn’t call to catch up. I’ve got something you need to know about, and I’m hoping you can work with me at least one more time.”
“What is it?” she asked, suddenly intrigued by the possibility of reuniting with the FBI agent. “You have something the OSS needs to look into?”
“No. Is that who the President has teamed you up with now?”
“This week anyway. I kind of freelance. But the spy guys use gals, too, so it is much easier to fit in at the OSS than with you G-men.”
“No doubt,” he agreed. “It is long overdue. Now give me your ears! I’ve got a really good lead on the Rose Hall kidnapping.”
She took a deep breath, got up from her chair, and leaned on the corner of her desk. “Define good lead.” She followed that with a question she didn’t want to ask. “Have you found the body?”
“No,” he quickly shot back. “I am pretty sure she is alive and living with a woman who up until a couple of days ago worked in the Motl Aviation here in Chicago. As soon as she found out someone might be on to her, she bolted with the girl. This woman’s name was Clara Baker. I’m thinking she might be the Clara Hooks woman we couldn’t find in St. Louis back when we were looking for the owner of the Packard.”
“She and her husband owned the place where Burgess lived when he unloaded the car?” Meeker asked.
“Yeah, the same one. I had a couple of folks who knew her in Missouri look at the picture we got from her Motl Aviation personnel file, and they were sure it was her.”
“Where did she go?” Meeker asked. “Any idea?”
“My best guess is southern Missouri. Or at least that is where the answers are going to be. In case she is there with the kid, I want to go down there myself. Could you fly into St. Louis? I could pick you up, and we could drive down there together.”
“I don’t think Lepowitz would like that,” she replied.
“I don’t think it matters,” Reese assured her. “The big guy has fallen out of Hoover’s inner circle. Besides, this woman worked for one of our biggest suppliers of bombers—it could be a matter of national security. And in times like this, when it comes to matters of national security, all branches of the government and the agencies within those branches must work together. You say you’re OSS this week?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll put in a request that you help me clean this up. After all, you never know what this woman stole from the plant. Could have been plans for a proposed bombsight.” She knew he was making a joke, but the scenario did give her probable cause to be involved in the case.
“I’ll pack my bags,” Meeker informed him. “But before I do, I’ve got to ask how you found this woman and discovered she might have Rose.”
“The car,” he explained. “The little girl rode in the yellow Packard. It seems the family who reported her brought her to their house to play. They had bought the car at our auction. This girl they knew as Jenny reached under the front seat—”
“And found two magnetic dog toys.” Meeker didn’t let him finish.
“How’d you know?” He sounded more than a bit amazed.
“I knew they were there,” she whispered. Moving off her desk, she sat down in her swivel chair. Her eyes fell to her calendar. There was nothing in DC that she couldn’t put off for a few days. Plus there was an investigation she needed to do in Chicago concerning a possible group of German sympathizers in the city’s west side. Justifying the trip would not be a problem. And if anyone protested, she’d just call Eleanor.
“Henry, when can you get to St. Louis?”
“I can drive down early tomorrow morning and be at the airport by noon.”
“I’ll catch the first plane out. And if I beat you, I’ll wait.”
“I’ll check the schedules,” he assured her, “and I’ll make sure I’m waiting at the gate.”
“Thanks,” she said softly.
“It will be good to get the team back together. Maybe ‘The Grand Experiment’ can be revived.”
“I just want to close the case,” she replied. “Bye.”
“Good-bye, Helen.”
She placed the receiver back in its cradle. Getting up quickly, she marched out the door, down the hall, and into Gladys Termane’s office. She waited for the fifty-year-old secretary to finish jotting down some information while she was on the phone before lightly tapping on her desk.
“What is it you need, honey?” Termane asked as she hung up.
“I’ve got to get to St. Louis as soon as possible. Can you book me out on a flight in the morning?”
The woman smiled. “I’ll do it even if I have to bump an admiral off the plane.”