Kevin looked at him.
“It means Zheng is no longer a suspect. He is our spy. And he’s known since you and I were in here five months ago rambling through his stateroom that we were onto him.”
“If we were onto him and he knew it, then why didn’t he do anything?”
“Maybe he did. Maybe that was why he flew back to Texas the other month.”
“Why would anyone go to Texas in the middle of the summer?” Montague asked.
Gainer laughed. “You’ve never been along the Riverwalk in San Antonio.”
“Well, he must not have thought it through thoroughly,” Montague added, ignoring Gainer. “He came back.”
“Maybe he had no choice,” Zeichner said.
“Maybe he did,” she countered. “Maybe he is as patriotic to China as we are to America.”
Gainer’s eyes roved the compartment with a new intensity. He looked at the space beneath the bottom bunk. “When I left here last time, we could see the shoes.”
Zeichner and Montague both looked at the deck beneath the narrow bottom bunk.
“I don’t remember, Kevin.”
“I do because I’m the one who searched beneath his bed.” “It’s a rack,” Montague said.
“Okay, I searched beneath his rack. I moved those shoes, but when I finished, I couldn’t recall whether they were shoved back out of sight or shoved back just enough so he wouldn’t trip over them. In hindsight, I may have guessed wrong when I put them back.”
Zeichner smiled. “It wouldn’t matter, Kevin. I bet he knew from when we opened the door to this stateroom that someone had been here. Besides, he’s a bachelor; there is no rhyme or reason as to how things are organized in a bachelor’s suite.”
“Smell,” Montague said.
“Smell?”
“Well, yes. Look at the three of us. Our clothes are wet through and through with perspiration from running up and down Sea Base. It smells like a locker room right now. If this man is so organized he lines his shoes up, then he’d smell the presence of someone else in his compartment.”
Zeichner lifted his arms out from his sides. Both sides of his shirt were matted to his body. “I don’t smell anything.” “Well, duh. If you had my feminine nose, you would.” Gainer moved to the stateroom door and opened it. He scanned the door facing and lock, looking for something. He shut it. “I don’t see anything.”
“It’s there somewhere. A piece of string, a speck of dust near the floor or on top of the door. Something we wouldn’t notice, but he would. Something small and insignificant unless you were looking for it.”
Montague put her hands on her hips. “If you knew this all along, Mr. Zeichner, why didn’t we take better care coming in here? Why didn’t we look?”
He smiled and turned away. He’d opened himself up for that scrutiny, he told himself. Why didn’t he do all these things that he seemed to be dredging up from some deep epiphany somewhere inside of him? Why didn’t he stop now while he was ahead? He sat back down in the chair, his feet flat on the deck. His thighs touched starting just above the knee.
“Sir?”
He looked at her. “Good question, Angie. You are probably right, but the radio was something that came from sitting here in the stateroom looking at things and letting the mind come to terms with what was possible and what was probable.” He waved his hand in a circular motion above his head. “Sometimes, you just have to be patient and let your mind figure out what the details mean.”
“Good point,” Gainer said. He turned around the chair he had been sitting on and straddled it, placing his hands across the top of the back and leaning his chin on them. His eyes traced the stateroom, inch by inch.
Montague watched him for a few seconds. “My God,” she said finally, and started her pacing again, head down, not talking to either of them.
Five minutes passed before Gainer stood and walked back into the head. He emerged a moment later with the electric shaver.
Zeichner pulled the lever up again, lifting his feet off the deck. “What you got?”
“I saw this earlier, but it never dawned on me until now that the electric razor doesn’t have one of those Navy safety tags on it.” He reached over and lifted the electric cord of the radio. “Even the radio has a safety tag, but the razor doesn’t. Now why would the good doctor get his radio tagged, but not his razor?”
“Probably didn’t want to have to do it twice,” Montague snapped. “But it would be an additional reason for wandering belowdecks.”
Gainer pulled the blade off, holding it up to look at it closely.
Zeichner pushed the lever of the recliner down. He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees, resting his stomach on his thighs. He really had to do something in this last month at sea. He caught the disgusting look on Montague’s face when she glanced at him. The young have no appreciation for the spreading bulge of growing old. An old, balding fat man leading two young agents. Must bug the shit out of her.
Gainer lifted the back, easing it off the razor. He looked at Zeichner and smiled, setting the open razor on the table. “Voila!”
Zeichner pushed himself out of the chair and reached the table about the same time as Montague. “What?” he asked as he bent over the open razor.
Gainer pointed to the inside. “See these three chips aligned in these slots?”
They both nodded.
“Why does an electric razor need computer chips?” He lifted the razor. “Look at it. On the outside it’s just a cheap electric razor one plugs into the wall. Bulkhead,” he added, correcting himself. “And runs around his face removing the morning whiskers. This one has chips.” After several seconds, Gainer straightened and in a profound voice announced, “This is the transmitting device.”
“Are you sure?” Zeichner asked. What about the radio? he asked himself. He was wrong. He waited for Montague to point it out.
Gainer nodded with a smile. “Look here, Boss. The radio is the antenna. You figured that out.”
I did?
Gainer lifted the radio. “Somehow, these two things have to connect. The razor is the operating half. Separate, neither the radio nor the razor is anything more than what they seem. But once the razor is connected to the radio, it provides the transmitting instructions.”
“So, whatever intelligence Zheng has collected is sent out via the radio,” Montague finished.
“Right!” Gainer exclaimed. He looked at Zeichner with admiration.
Montague nodded, but didn’t say anything. “If we are right, then how did the two things connect? They would have to connect with each other — a wire or line or something.”
Zeichner nearly smiled. She was definitely destined for greater stardom. He wondered if she’d consciously thought of the switch from the “I” to the “we”?
“I don’t know,” Gainer said, bemused. He set the two things on the table and walked away. “They have to connect someway. But how?”
Zeichner looked at Montague. “Think we ought to go searching for him now?”
She bit her lower lip and then smiled. “No, Boss; I think he’ll be back here soon. Regardless, he cannot send anything he has gathered today until he comes back to his radio.” She reached out and touched the small radio.
Zheng hurried toward his stateroom, working his way through the deserted passageways and closed hatches, trying to avoid anyone else who might be violating General Quarters. He was hot and craved a quick, cool shower. He had toyed with the idea of taking some photographs of the weapons systems topside, but he had so many, he didn’t know what else more photographs would show.
The noise of people approaching caused him to walk along the bulkhead of the connecting passageway. There was no place to hide.