6 - The Eye of the Virgin: Ike Schwartz Mystery 6 (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

“Turn on the engine and let’s get some heat in here. It’s cold. Did Ike tell you why we’re staking out this place?” Billy Sutherlin slapped his arms against his chest and puffed.

Sam Ryder shifted in the seat and peered into the night. “Sissy. It’s March. Where I come from this is like summer. Why didn’t you wear your jacket if you’re cold?”

“It’s in the wash.”

“You don’t wash a down jacket, Billy.”

“Yeah, I found that out the hard way. Essie gave me hell. Listen, laundry ain’t something I was raised up to be doing.”

Sam smiled and shook her head. Men. “Ike said to me we were to keep an eye on the place, and should park so we can see around back as well. Something to do with the break-in you wrote up Saturday.”

The moon, though not yet full, provided enough light to allow the two deputies to see without night vision goggles, which was a good thing, as the several federal programs aimed at upgrading law enforcement agencies across the country had missed Picketsville. The sheriff’s department had to manage without the goggles and a number of other bits of technology they could have used, now deemed standard in larger, more affluent jurisdictions.

“You Yankees are used to the snow and ice. That’s why you can sit there so smug. What else, besides that, reindeer, and permanent frost bite, do you have up there in Minnesota?”

“In the summertime we have mosquitoes big enough to take your cat.”

“Heard that. Did Ike think the bad guy would be back for another go?”

“That was my take. Something to do with him, or her, or them not finding what they came for the first time. You see anything up front?”

“Nope. Why would they come back this soon? Seems sorta risky to me.”

“You know Ike.”

“So, what do you hear from your boy Karl?”

“He’s been assigned to a tactical unit, so I don’t always know where he is. It’s not something I like, I can tell you.”

“I reckon you wish he’d taken Ike’s offer last spring and stayed on here as a deputy? He was good, I’ll give him that, but I reckon his heart was set on going back and being a G-man.”

“Nobody says G-man anymore, Billy. FBI Special Agent is the correct term. Yeah, he said he needed to know.” Sam sat still and put the binoculars to her eyes again. “It was so good those months when he was here all the time and, you know, it was, like, peaceful.”

“Except, of course, when them jackass LeBruns come near to killing me and Essie. But you’re right, I do know. Since us two been married and having our own place, it’s like a different life. And we all owe Karl a bunch. Saved my cookies, that’s for sure.”

“Is that something moving down the road there?” Sam pointed to a spot a few yards to the east.

Billy scanned the road. “It’s only a dog, big German shepherd. If someone is sneaking around here tonight, they’ll have us and the dog to deal with. I know that mutt. He’s a mean son-of-a-bitch.”

“I guess you can say that about a dog, can’t you?”

Billy looked confused and then brightened. “Oh, yeah, it being a dog, you mean. So, what will you and Karl do? You can’t be every other weekend forever.”

“No, that is wearying, not to mention frustrating. I don’t know. One of us is going to have to sacrifice. I love my job, he loves his. Mine keeps me here, his keeps him there, wherever there is, and they don’t work together.”

“How’s that?”

“He’s FBI. They move about a lot. If I were to go with him, I can’t stay here. The chances are slim to none I could hook on to the Bureau, and even if I did, there’s no way we could be sure to be assigned to the same place.”

“I figure you’d be a helluva FBI with your computer skills and all.”

“At Quantico or up in the Hoover Building maybe, but not in Cleveland or Phoenix. I mean he could be sent anywhere. Right now he’s been assigned to a tactical unit in Washington, but next year? Next week? Who knows?”

“So, one of you has to let it go and be a stay-at-home or have a moveable career. That don’t make for easy choices.” Billy thought for a while. “If you was to get married, what about kids?”

“There’s that, too. Not only would I have to step aside, you know to have a child, but there’s the race thing. People are pretty open now about mixed marriages, but there are always those who, you know, can’t get with the program.”

Billy nodded and sipped from his cup. “Coffee’s gone cold. Is there any hot left in the thermos?” He handed the cup to Sam. She shook the bottle.

“Nope. Empty. We should have planned this better. So how’re you getting on being a father?”

“Scary is what that is, but pretty exciting, too. I’m going to take a stroll around the other side of the house there and check that hedge. You hold down the fort here.”

“Men are so lucky.”

***

“No dessert for me, duty calls.” Ruth folded her napkin and stood. Ike rose with her.

“I’ll see you to your car.”

Abe rose as well. “Aw, don’t go. You all stay a while. My goodness this is a big night.” Dolly smiled and sipped the last of her champagne.

“I can’t, Abe and there’s no need to escort me, Ike. Stay and visit with your dad and Dolly.”

Ike turned to the two of them. “I’ll come right back, only be a minute.” He took Ruth’s elbow and walked her to the door.

“Are you being gallant or do you have some other, possibly lecherous, purpose in mind? I do have to work. I told you when you asked—”

“I need a minute. Indulge me.”

“I guess if it’s just a minute, I’m safe enough.”

When they reached her car Ike turned her to face him. “I’m delighted, no, ecstatic. But I am also confused. This morning you said you couldn’t make the move…the ring and all, and now, what? Less than twelve hours later, and it’s a done deal. What did I miss?”

“You didn’t miss anything. I’m the one who’s been missing things. I mean, I kept putting you off. For months, in fact. It’s my personality, I guess. What am I, type A? I don’t know. I never trust oversimplifications, particularly when they presume to define people, but at dinner while I was zinging Dolly…I’m sorry about that, by the way…”

“You should be, but I have to tell you, I thought it was wonderfully funny, and the expression on Aunt Dolly’s face was priceless.”

“Yes, still, it was a little mean. Anyway, I saw the way those two old people looked at each other and I realized how wrong I had been. They were so, what is the word? Adoring, I guess, and I realized that I was stuck eight inches from having something wonderful.”

“Come again?”

“You know, those hokey inspirational speakers do it all the time. Point to their head, ‘Victory ain’t here.’ Point to their heart, ‘It’s here, eight inches away.’ I think they’re off a few inches, but you get the idea.”

“And this relates to you, to us, how?”

“I spend my days on task. A time and a place for everything, priorities, due dates, deadlines, think it through, measure twice, cut once, all the clichés of the hyperorganized. And watching those two old coots, I realized that relationships are not rational, itemizable, or quantifiable. In short, love ain’t cerebral.” She paused and gave Ike a wan smile. “So, how are we going to make this public? Or are we?”

“By morning everybody in town will know. Even if I were to muzzle Abe, which is not likely by the way, the town grapevine will have had it within an hour after you said it, and tomorrow I will be expected to buy breakfast for the crowd at the Crossroads Diner.”

“Maybe you should have breakfast with me instead.”

“You mean it?”

“I do. Now, I have to go. Give me an engagement kiss and go back and let you dad show you off to his lady friend.”

“We need to talk about this. How do we—”

“I know, where do we live, how do we mesh? Another day, Ike. Let’s take it a day at a time. This much alone will take some getting used to.”

“Right. Okay, give me an hour. No, make that an hour and a half. I have a stop to make. Will that be enough time for you to get your work done?”

“It’s enough to get it started. Park on the visitor’s lot. I’ll leave the kitchen door unlocked and tell Claude the night watchman not to shoot you.”

“Thanks for that. You’re sure?”

“It’s the new me, impulse over reason. So, yes.”

Chapter Twelve

Billy and Sam had taken turns walking the perimeter of the quarter acre of Callend’s campus that Dakis’ house occupied when Ike raised them on the radio. He asked for a status report. He said that if he had reckoned correctly, Dakis should have another visitor or visitors soon. How soon, he could not say, but soon.

“Nothing much happening here, Ike.”

“Okay, another thing—this is important. I know you and Sam are on second shift, but I need you in the office for an hour or so tomorrow first thing in the morning. We have someone from the Bureau coming to ID the dead guy from the clinic. I’ll need you, Sam, to run some of your fancy software.”

“Won’t he be bringing a complete file?”

“Based on the way the Bureau has interfaced with us in the past, Karl Hedrick notwithstanding, my opinion is no, he won’t. I’ll need you to poke around in cyberspace, I think. And Billy, we may have somebody from the CIA dropping in also, and I want you to listen in on what he has to say. Our little B and E has taken on a whole new look.”

“I’ll be there, for sure. What kind of new look?”

“You’ll see tomorrow. I’m going off-duty as of now but my cell phone will be on in case anything happens out there tonight. Amos and Buck will relieve you in about two hours. Tell them where I can be reached.”

“Roger that.”

Sam looked at Billy. “What was that all about?”

“You know Ike. Seems like he’s a step or two ahead of the game most of the time. How do you suppose he does that?”

“I think it must come from all those years when he was an agent.”

“They call CIA spooks agents?”

“I don’t know. Agent, operative, spook, spy, does it matter? He will tell you all that’s behind him, but I’m not so sure. Anyway, I think he developed one of those paranoid minds that you have to have to survive in that business. He always looks at things different than you or I. He sees the significance in things that we miss and is suspicious of everything, at least when he’s working. I don’t know how he is otherwise. I hope different.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t you like to know how he is with your old boss, Miz Harris? It’s scary sometimes the way he does his thinking. You think he’ll ever go back to the CIA?”

Sam shook her head. “I don’t know what happened to push him out, and I know he’ll help those people from time to time, but I get the feeling he’d as soon cover himself in molasses and roll around on a hill of fire ants as go back to Langley.”

“Ouch.”

***

“Stupid. You two are stupid.” Jacob sounded furious. “If I didn’t need you to finish this business you would be on your way home.”

The two men, who for the moment called themselves Wentz and Brown, stared at one another. Wentz dug at the carpet with his toe and looked up. “He said it wasn’t there and that it must be in Washington. How could we know he lied?”

“You killed him before you checked? Just because he said it was or wasn’t here or there does not mean it was either.”

“But he looked and said since it wasn’t at the husband’s, so it must be in Washington.”

“And you killed him, then?”

“Not then, later. We had to have the password and the key to his store.”

“Then you killed him.”

“No, we didn’t.” The speaker looked at his partner for confirmation, “It was Avi. Avi Kolb killed him.”

“Kolb? What was he doing there?”

“He said you wanted him with us, to be sure.”

“Idiot! I never said anything of the sort. And you stood there and watched him eliminate any chance we have of recovering the thing?”

“It was an accident.”

“Killing Zaki was an accident? How can it be an accident?”

“Avi put the gun in his side to threaten him when he tried to run. It went off. You said we should eliminate him when the job was done anyway. I think he must have known that because he started to run away.”

“And so, Avi Kolb, who wasn’t supposed to be there, shoots him.”

“We were sure he was trying to escape.”

These morons are lying, he thought. Why would Avi Kolb shoot anyone? As if to confirm his thoughts one said, “It’s true, it was Avi Kolb.” The man protests too much. Leave it to these knuckleheads to screw up and blame the missing Kolb. Why am I always saddled with idiots?

“Fools. Now the only source we had to absolutely identify the painting is dead and the police are looking for the men who killed him. It is only a matter of time before their Homeland Security people match up his fingerprints and will be down on us. We must get that picture before they realize what we’re after.”

“What are we after? Not only a holy picture. If that is all you want there are hundreds in that shop we went into Saturday.”

“When this crew was put together, I thought it had first-raters. You two are like trainees. How did you ever—”

“Serak hired us, Jacob. He said to report to you and you would be in charge of the operation. He said he had the connection in the CIA and he wanted us especially. We are not…whatever you said. This is not the first job we’ve been on, okay?”

“Okay, okay, enough. First, this is not an
operation.
You were to find an icon and steal it and then disappear, that’s all. Now, I must find Kolb. Who is he working for? Not us, it seems. As for you, remember it is not any picture, it is one picture in particular. It is called
The Virgin of Tenderness.
You have photographs. Look at them again and then go back to that place in Virginia and get it.”

“What if the guy is there?”

“Get that picture. If that means taking care of him, then do it. We are running out of time. Do you understand?”

The two men looked at the floor. One of them, Brown, shook his head. “It is a blasphemy even to touch it.”

“Tell that to your Rabbi. I haven’t time for religious scruples—theirs or yours. I have a job to do. And you two have seventy-two hours to get us that picture before the people who shipped it here tumble to the fact their man is out of the loop and they send someone or something else.”

***

Ike parked on the visitor’s lot and walked down the lighted pathway to the president’s house. As promised, the kitchen door was unlocked. He stepped in, closed the door and threw the bolt. Ruth had her lap-top open in the small room off the main drawing room that served as her office away from the office.

“You made it,” she said, not lifting her eyes from the screen.

“I did. Claude only fired three shots before I hit the porch. He needs target practice.”

“Very funny. Fix us a drink and sit down somewhere and behave. I’ll be a half hour or so at this.”

Ike poured her a small Scotch and made himself a gin and tonic. He placed the Scotch on the desk beside her, stroked her hair, and walked to the door.

“I’ll be in the upstairs sitting room if you need me. And I hope you do. Need me, I mean.”

Ruth nodded, eyes still fixed on the laptop, and waved him away. On task, absorbed, working—focused.

Ike trudged up the stairs to the small room off the bedroom. It had a television, a small sofa, end tables, and side chairs grouped around a silver Bokhara. To one side, a fireplace broke a large set of book shelves into two sections. A fire had been laid. He stooped and lit a match to the kindling. The fire caught. Ike flopped onto the sofa, sipped his drink and savored the scent of burning wood. Apple, if he guessed right.

***

Forty-five minutes later Ruth found him asleep. She debated whether to wake him or not. She thought he’d be angry at her if she didn’t. She poked him in the ribs. Ike recoiled from the sofa like a scalded cat. That was the cliché that came to mind at any rate.

“Wow, what’s up with you?”

“I must have dozed off. Sorry.”

“No problem. But what’s up with the jumping at me?”

“Bad dream.”

“You want to tell Momma?”

“I want Momma to induce a nice dream. Are you finished with your agenda?”

“Not quite. You’re next.”