Sight Unseen by Brad Latham

Secrecy Act, Bill, he can have you shot.
     You might want to read it before you do any more talking to the folks back at your shop.”
    Lockwood shook his head. “How’d
you
like to have two bosses—Uncle Sam and Mr. Gray?”
    “If it comes to what I’d like, I’d rather not have any bosses. I suggest you watch yourself.” Manners stepped back into the
     room. “Tell you what you might do, Bill, since you got this thing about the folks who own the firm. You could find out all
     you can on Josef Dzeloski.”
    “I could, huh? You’ve got something on him?”
    “Let’s just say there are a few years of his life on which we can’t get any corroborating evidence for his whereabouts, and
     holes in a bio make us nervous.”
    “Such as?”
    “How come his baptismal certificates are missing in Croatia?”
    Lockwood laughed. “Half of Croatia itself was missing after the war. I like Josef, I can’t see him behind this.”
    “I like everybody, Lock—I mean, Bill,” Manners said. He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Take a look at these French
     postcards.”
    Lockwood took the envelope and looked at Manners.
    “Open it,” Manners said. “I’m sure a suave guy like yourself has seen a few dirty pictures before.”
    Inside were snapshots, dark and grainy, that showed a man who could have been Josef Dzeloski with a woman in a variety of
     sexual positions.
    “Not much of a photographer,” Lockwood commented.
    Guy grinned. “The constraints of the situation. The photographer didn’t want the photographee to know he was there.”
    “I can imagine.” Lockwood put the pictures back into the envelope and handed it back to the T-man. “The girl doesn’t look
     so ‘dirty’ to me.”
    “I’m glad you feel that way, Bill, because your first assignment as a T-man will be to get to know her.”
    “Get to know her? What’s she have to do with all this?”
    “That’s just what we’d like you to find out.”
    “She’s not exactly my type.”
    “Too bad.”
    “My company—my boss—wouldn’t go for me fishing around in waters like that. No direct bearing on this case.”
    “Remember? You’ve got two bosses now? Come down to the lab. I want to give you something new we’ve developed to aid our investigations.”
    Something in Guy’s tone and smile made Lockwood wary. “What’s that?”
    “Small radio transmitters,” Guy said. “We’d like you to plant two or three in her house, maybe her living room and bedroom.
     We’ll have guys in a radio truck nearby to tape what goes on there.”
    Disgusted, Lockwood said, “Hey, you’re the government. The government doesn’t do this sort of thing.”
    “Why not?” Guy asked, surprised.
    Lockwood nodded glumly, “Yeah, why not? If you can’t see it, I could never explain it to you.”
    “What are the long lines for?” Lockwood asked Guy. On the table in the empty lab of Area B lay three radio devices, each the
     size of three packs of Camels with a five foot length of wire trailing across the table.
    “The aerial,” Guy said. “It’s got to stretch away from the device, or it won’t transmit the signal.”
    “And keep this little grill uncovered?” Lockwood confirmed.
    “Yep, that’s the mike. Just tape it under the bed, say, with the grill to the outside of the stanchion, and trail the wire
     across the bottom of a bed slat.”
    “Look, Guy, this isn’t my line.”
    “This isn’t the first time you’ve dealt with a call girl, is it, Lockwood?”
    “I thought is was Bill and Guy we were calling each other?”
    “We were, till you got prissy on me.”
    “What am I supposed to say to this woman, to get these things in her living room or kitchen?”
    “Don’t forget the bedroom.”
    “I haven’t”
    “What does any man say to a woman like this to get into her bedroom?”
    Lockwood looked at him sharply. “You give her ten dollars. It’s not my style.”
    “So, you got a new style.”
    They just looked at each other.