5 - Choker: Ike Schwartz Mystery 5 (17 page)

Chapter 32

Blake studied the dark and blurry figures gyrating across the computer’s screen. Sam Ryder had enhanced the image as much as she could, but he could not distinguish faces.

“I can’t see anything,” he said and leaned closer to the screen.

“Sorry, the picture isn’t much. I think whoever recorded it must have used a cell phone. See, it jumps around, starts and stops, as if they turned it off and on. In a minute you’ll see some clearer pictures. I’m guessing they were shot from a different phone.”

“No hand-held video cam?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“And you think more than one person contributed to this thing?”

“That’d be my guess. Here, this part is better. That’s Peachy Starkey and Chad what’s-his-name, the Goth kid.”

“I recognize the pendant. I won’t call it a cross. What’s she up to? She looks wasted. It looks like drugs and dancing don’t mix too well. Any idea what she’s on, Frank?”

“Hard to say. My take would be some prescription drugs from her parent’s medicine cabinet and maybe a dose of ecstasy.”

“You can tell?”

“Just a professional guess. When I was with the Highway Patrol I stopped kids all the time who were on one thing or another. She looks like
X plus
, as we used to say.”

“Oh, oh, they’re not going to—”

“We don’t know for sure. I hope not.”

The image blanked out at the point where Peachy flopped down on the altar and picked up again some moments later.

“This is the ritual part of the business. I’m sorry, Blake, but we can’t see any details of the cup or anything else that might lead us to believe they’ve got their hands on your silverware.” Frank seemed genuinely disappointed. “There’s no way I can muscle in there on probable cause and I surer’n hell, pardon Rev, I surely can’t get a search warrant for it either.”

“I guess that’s it, then. All I can do is talk to the Starkeys and show them this video. They won’t appreciate the gesture, but at least we’ll call some attention to this nonsense.”

“And maybe shut it down.”

“Sam, is this everything?”

“I downloaded everything I could find. I’m guessing they add and subtract from time to time, but they haven’t lately. They’re due to update their site soon, I think.”

“Well, since we don’t know when that might be, it wouldn’t be wise to wait.”

Sam frowned and then brightened. “Actually, we may know when they’ll have their next go at this. Give me a minute.” She dashed out and returned with a calendar. “The date stamp on this bit of video was the seventeenth of this month. That was the last full moon. My guess is they only do this on the full, so they will be at it on the fifteenth of next month.”

“So we have to wait another two weeks?” Frank sounded annoyed.

“Not necessarily.” Blake took the calendar from Sam and scrutinized it. “We could have some activity by Friday.”

“Friday? Why so soon?” Frank said.

“It’s a moon thing again, and it depends on how sophisticated, you should pardon the expression, these kids are when it comes to being Satanists, or witches, or whatever they are playing at. This Friday night, we will have a black moon.”

Puzzled, Sam and Frank waited for an explanation. “A what moon?”

“You’ve heard of a blue moon, right?” Frank and Sam nodded uncertainly. “People say, ‘once in a blue moon,’ and mean rarely, or not very often. When you have two full moons in the same month it’s called a blue moon. Since the moon’s cycle is twenty-eight days, every now and then it will wax full twice in the same month. Well, the same phenomenon produces two crescent moons in the same month as well. That’s called a black moon, also rare. A black moon is a witch’s moon and if these kids are up on their reading, they’ll dance on Friday night.”

“Or Thursday,” said Sam.

“Why Thursday?”

“Stroke of midnight, the witching hour. Friday begins at midnight Thursday.”

Frank had been listening to the two and finally broke in. “You’ve lost me. You think something will happen on Thursday or Friday night, have I got that right?”

Sam and Blake both nodded.

“Which?”

“Given they’re kids and school’s in session, I’ll go with Friday but it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye peeled on Thursday.”

“And you think we should do what, exactly?”

Sam ticked off the possibilities. “A raid would be appropriate.”

“On what grounds, Sam? We can’t just barge in there because we think they might have some silver.”

“I’m thinking, disturbing the peace, creating a public nuisance, unauthorized use of state park property, littering, any and all of the above, and if Peachy doesn’t behave herself, public lewdness. And if we’re seeing this activity right, we include possession and use of controlled substances.”

Blake laid the calendar on Frank’s desk. “If we’re right about this, what we witnessed in that last bit of video could be considerably starker and more dangerous the next time. It’s not my call, Frank, but I think this should be nipped in the bud.” Frank looked dubious. “Frank, if you had a daughter, and if you caught her doing what Peachy seemed to be doing in this video and may be doing a good deal more of soon, what would you want the local cops to do?”

“I guess I’d want someone to stop it. Damn! I hate being Buford T. Justice, but you’re right. This isn’t just an alternative to a Boy Scouts camping trip or a kegger in the woods, is it? What ever happened to sock hops and hay rides?”

“Went out with fins on cars. Frank, you can’t be that old.”

“I try.”

***

Ike finished a half-hour hot shower and wrapped in terry cloth that still carried Ruth’s scent from the weekend. He had started sipping a stiff bourbon, a decision he deemed as a necessary preventative against the pneumonia he’d surely contracted on the bay that afternoon, when Ruth called.

“I need you back here, Ike.”

“I’m pretty busy right now. What’s up? Are you missing my personal magnetism already?”

“In your dreams, Schwartz. No, our mutual friend and Callend’s biggest booster, not to mention donor, M. Armand Dillon, is due in town to survey his handiwork, and he asked for you especially.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be. Since you saved his art collection last year, he thinks you hung the moon. He thinks you are a cop’s cop. He would probably fund you if you wanted to run for president.”

“As I said, personal magnetism.”

“Then you’re not interested in a run for the presidency?”

“Tell him to talk to my father. He still thinks I should run for attorney general.”

“Why don’t you?”

“And lose close proximity to my main squeeze? Never. When do you want me to appear before the great man?”

“Friday night. I’m throwing a soirée in his honor. All Picketsville’s big shots, town and gown, will be there. He wants you as well.”

“I’m not a big shot, town and gown-wise?”

“You’re the sheriff. Isn’t that enough?”

“You want me to park cars, is that it?”

“Stop it. Can you come?”

“There’s a little private landing strip on Hooper’s farm. I’ll call him and arrange for the strip to be mowed. There are no lights, so I’ll have to fly down Friday late, but before dark, stay overnight, and fly back here early Saturday morning. If I’m tied up here late and it looks like I can’t get to you before dark—”

“You won’t come? Ike I need you here.”

“If that happens, I was about to say, I’d fly to the airport at Weyer’s Cave and rent a car. I might be late, but I’ll be there. Will that do?”

“Yes. Thank you. Do you have a black tie?”

“The one I wear with my uniform is black.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Schwartz. You know what I mean. This is a black-tie affair. Food will be catered, entertainment provided. The works.”

“I think I can dig up a monkey suit. It will probably smell of moth balls, though.”

“It will have to do. Where will you stay Friday night?”

“I’ll leave those arrangements up to you.”

Chapter 33

Ike had the sports section of the
Washington Post’
s bulldog edition open and his second cup of the day creamed and sweetened, when his phone vibrated like a miniature jackhammer on the table. He glanced at the caller ID and frowned. He almost didn’t recognize it and would have canceled the call, except Harley’s Garage sounded familiar. Then he remembered the stop at the former gas station he’d made to ask directions to Bunky Crispins’. Bunky was on the other end. He sounded hysterical.

“Who in tarnation are you, Mister?”

“Excuse me, who am I? Bunky, what happened? Why are you calling from Harley’s?”

“My dinged phone were on the
J. Millard
is why. I thought you said whoever was in that plane was nobody. You said, like, nothing important. Now look what you done.”

“Done? Wait, slow down and back up. What happened?”

“Somebody torched my boat.”

“
The J. Millard Tawes?
”

“I ain’t got no other boat. ’Course the
J. Millard
.”

“When, how?”

“Shoot, I come home after getting me some groceries and when I turned onto the road I seen a glow and there she was ’bout burned to the waterline. Then a wave come and swamped her. Now I ain’t got nothing.”

Ike clenched his jaw. He certainly did not expect this. Somehow, though, it came as no surprise. He’d had a feeling, a bad feeling ever since he’d seen the shattered airplane, and heard the evasion in Charlie’s voice, that this adventure would go sour and soon.

“Bunky, I don’t know why your boat was burned, trust me, but I will find out. In the meantime, don’t touch anything. Go back to your property, get out that shotgun of yours and guard the area. I’ll get some people and be there as soon as I can. If someone makes an attempt to do anything else, you know what to do.”

“What’ll you do? Heck, the boat’s gone. That’s pert near the end to me and mine.”

“I’m not sure what I’ll do, Bunky, but this isn’t the end to anything. Now go get that gun and sit tight.”

Ike closed the phone and stared at his scrambled eggs. He wasn’t hungry anymore. Someone, or some people, had been frightened by the two of them scouting the bay over the wreck. That could only mean they had a hand in its downing. But since they burned the boat and nothing else, they probably hadn’t figured out that the people out over the wreck were anything more than coincidental curiosity seekers. If they’d connected Bunky to anything more, they would have done something to him as well. They still could. He called Charlie.

“Ike? What?”

“Time to spring for the muscle, my friend.”

He told him what had happened and what he thought it meant. “Either take the locals into your confidence, or get me some anonymous gorillas down here pronto. We’re on someone’s radar screen, and if we were to put divers out on the site tomorrow, bad things could happen. I want someone watching my back. Also, send some crime scene techs if you can. And do it now, Charlie.”

Charlie’s line went silent.

“Charlie, did you hear me?”

“Sorry, Ike, I had to confer. It’s a little risky, you understand. Local jurisdictional conflicts and all—”

“I don’t care about all that crap. We have a serious problem that needs solving, and it needs solving now.”

“Okay, okay, I’m with you. I’m thinking, that’s all.” Another pause. Ike could hear muffled voices in the background. “We’ll send a group down. We will want to insert them as unobtrusively as possible. Any suggestions?”

“These people down here are suspicious. No, make that disdainful of governmental types, so no official-looking black SUVs, no suits, nothing that would set them off from real people, if you follow me. Come in a pickup or a van and dress like locals, watermen or maybe firemen, out to inspect the burn scene.”

“Got it. What else?”

“I have a really long list, are you taking this down? Okay. I’m guessing the people who sank your boat are not fools, and the folks in the area are not our friends, at least not yet. The latter will try to stop you from getting to wherever you want to go. The former could cause some major grief. Also, I expect we’ll be under surveillance. Put someone on the pier at Romancoke with a long lens. See if they can find out whom and where. I don’t think they’ll be toward the wreck because—”

“Whoa, slow down. What’s a Romancoke? And who are they?”

“Romancoke is a little settlement on the Eastern Bay. It has a pier that sticks out into the water and faces the place where the boat was torched. You can see across it to the pier where I’ll be. Anybody who wants to watch us will have to be somewhere in the bay. The location of the downed aircraft is around a spit of land. To see us from near there, they’d have to be out in the open, so look for a boat anchored in the bay. A sailboat, power boat, something with a cabin to hide in and watch.”

“I thought you said you were rusty and couldn’t do this anymore.”

“I said I was rusty and said didn’t
want
to do this anymore. There’s a difference. Besides, Bunky Crispins deserves better.”

“Bunky, right. What else?”

“If I knew what you guys were worrying about, I might be more specific.”

“Hang on.” Ike heard more muffled voices. It sounded like an argument. “I had a chat with Tony Fugarelli. He thinks you should be brought up to speed. Are you sitting down?”

“I am, or was, eating breakfast. Something tells me I’m about to lose what’s left of my appetite. What have you children been up to now?”

The phone went silent again. Ike imagined he could hear the wheels in Charlie’s brain grinding out a suitable answer. It must really be serious. Finally Charlie, voice lowered said, “What do you know about the Sunburn?”

“Am I to assume you are not talking about overexposure at the beach?”

“Come on, Ike, of course.”

“Not much, I’m afraid. It is, or more properly, it was an antiship cruise missile developed by the Russians years ago. Nifty piece of 1980s-’90s hardware that created a major problem for the boys in naval antimissile warfare for a while. I think they solved that puzzle, though. It flies at a very low altitude, nap of the earth, and at mach 1 or so.”

“It’s a little faster, mach 2 plus and has a range of a hundred miles. As you said, it flies under the radar.”

“I hate to ask, but this is connected to me, how, exactly?”

“Those old missiles were sold to the Chinese and then by them to the Iranians, and then some of them disappeared into the international arms market. We can’t find a half dozen of them.”

“Okay. So your field guys can’t find a bunch of old ship-to-ship cruise missiles.”

“Did you hear me? I said they have a range of one hundred miles.”

“I heard you.”

“Draw a circle with one hundred mile radius from where we think Nick’s plane went down. What’s in it?”

“Jesus! Washington, Baltimore, Norfolk, Philadelphia —”

“Patuxent Naval Air Station, Andrews AFB, Dover AFB, and on and on. The Sunburn is capable of carrying a small nuclear warhead. Can you imagine a nuclear strike on DC? Nick saw something important that night, but I don’t think it was people without green cards.”

“You think he saw a Sunburn?”

“Don’t know. We’ll need something hard, but two acts of violence must mean something.”

“Three acts of violence. You should check out the police reports on a boat found off Hampton Roads a day or two after the plane went down. It’s a murder scene, and as far as I know the case is still active. Witnesses place the boat in the bay on the Fourth of July. The forensics might be interesting. Or not. Hell, Charlie, I don’t know, but this is really getting scary.”

“We’re sending in the cavalry. Sit tight. Do you need anything else?”

“Like what?”

“A weapon.”

“I have my duty belt and S and W. That should be sufficient. Oh, wait. I’ll need another boat, preferably one painted black that can sneak out to that site in the dark and not be seen from shore.”

“You want a boat.”

“Yes, and it should have one of those super-quiet engines with a jet drive for shallow water. I think we will have to dive at night. The moon is on the wane and that will help. With any luck it will rain again on Wednesday. Underwater lights, generator on board, the works.”

“I’m on it.”

“One more thing. If you are right about the Sunburns, and I sure hope you’re wrong, think about how they would be deployed normally.”

“You mean from ships?”

“That too, but armament…the warhead?”

“We don’t think they’re nuclear. Intel would have that.”

“You’re sure. It’s a risk if you’re wrong.”

“I’ll double-check. What about the ships?”

“I don’t know. It just seems important. Put some of the big brains you have over there to work on it. After, all your middle name is Intelligence.”

“Now I wish you really were rusty. And Ike?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”