Free 5 - Choker: Ike Schwartz Mystery 5 by Frederick Ramsay Page A

down near, or in, Eastern Bay. That’s south of Kent Island. You know Kent Island? So, they were looking north of Kent Island.”
    “Why north…or why are you looking south…you know what I mean.”
    “I do. North, because the original search supposed Nick went down when he dropped off the radar. But your phone call says he flew on several more minutes so, south.”
    “That’s why you wanted me to check the time stamp.”
    “Correct.”
    “So, that meant he went down south of where they were looking and you thought you saw something—south.”
    “I hope so.”
    “You’ll need divers and salvage equipment.”
    “Not yet, but you might get that ball rolling. I’m going to spend tomorrow scouting the bay’s circumference. I want to know why no one reported a missing piece of airplane, and I can’t believe no one saw anything that night. Somebody has to know something. By the way, what happened to my pictures?”
    “On your kitchen table even as we speak.”
    “On my table? You were able to activate my phone, and now you have a key to my place.”
    “Don’t be silly, Ike. Using a key breaks the spook’s code. The messenger picked the lock.”
    “Right—spycraft. You guys never give up. I’ll be back with you after I look at those pictures and check my navigation chart.”
    ***
    The photographs were, indeed, on the kitchen table when Ike returned to his cottage. The messenger had picked the lock but forgotten to lock up on his way out. He’d have to mention that to Charlie. He didn’t want to rat out the guilty party, but sloppy spycraft could cost someone his life.
    He shuffled through the images, sorting them into piles chronologically. He paused and frowned. Something was not right. Why did Charlie tell him about the picked lock in the first place? If he’d come into the room and found the pictures on the table, he wouldn’t have been surprised. A diversion. Make me think that the messenger lacked finesse and I won’t look elsewhere. He let his eyes scan the room. Ike wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but he knew his own clutter. During his time with the Company, he’d learned to keep track of everything irrespective of its place in the apparent disorder. His messes had fooled more than one counterintelligence agent in the past.
    A chair had been moved. Not much. It sat almost exactly where it had been in the morning. Almost. There were small impressions in the carpet where the legs had been and the chair now sat a few inches over. The bedroom seemed to be undisturbed, but the phone with its layers of sunscreen felt suspiciously clean, as if it had been wiped down. Someone would have to do that to remove the mouthpiece and plant a bug. He turned his attention to the TV. So far he’d only been strolling about the place. If he were being surveilled, his watchers would soon know he’d tumbled to them when he turned the TV around.
    He swung the set on its stand, peered in the back, and saw the small box that converted the set into a sending unit. He did his best imitation of singing; tone deaf did not even begin to describe him, “ Ye watchers and ye holy ones… Hey, I’m the good guy here, okay?”
    He draped a beach towel over the set and stuck a half of a banana into its concealed microphone. Then he lifted the air duct cover behind the chair and yanked out a second microphone. The phone bug he sent down the toilet. The phone rang. He screwed the mouthpiece back on and waited.
    “That’s very expensive government issue property you’re manhandling there.” Charlie said.
    “Tough darts. You want me to work your patch, you trust me.”
    “Sorry, Ike. As I told you, the brass upstairs got wind of your…um…unauthorized expense account and ordered the surveillance. I didn’t find out in time. Then I thought, let’s see if he still has the chops. I guess you do. I would have told you in an hour or so if you didn’t.”
    “Yeah, yeah. Now you know why I quit.”
    “I do know why