Wearing his dark suit and bow tie in the hot sun, Loomis Trench carried a bouquet of daises in one hand and a briefcase in the other. He walked quickly toward his familiar dead-drop location in Oak Hill Cemetery.
His briefcase contained a classified report from viewing session with Balthazar Frobenius completed just the day before.
Encoded within text from the poem " Song of the Last Meeting"
Dear Friends, I think you will find that the enclosed information is worth double our usual price. I will be out of contact now because I have a gut feeling that someone in the agency may be investigating me. As soon as I receive your payment, I will be taking a long vacation during the next few weeks. Always, The Poet
Loomis carefully placed the classified documents and his note inside the large, fake, stone, replaced the concealment device in its usual spot along the path, and brushed the dust from his hands
As the bouquet he held in his hand fell to the ground, FBI agents popped out from the cover of surrounding trees and bushes to arrest him,
As they led Loomis from the cemetery in handcuffs, he glanced back at the tomb, but Lincoln's ghost had disappeared.