LEVENSTIEN RADIO REPAIRS

NEWARK, NEW JERSEY

The jingling sound came from the front lobby. Adam Weiss dropped what he was doing and, as he always did, he peeked through a small hole in the wall before he actually went to the front of his shop. The woman in the front was both unremarkable and known to Adam. She had been in here before. Adam put on a smile and walked to his front counter where he said, “good to see you again Misses Kaplan. I certainly hope that the set I sold you is doing well.”

As Adam already knew, it was not. Misses Kaplan came in at least once a month to complain about her reception and, as always, Weiss had to waste time explaining to her that it had nothing to do with the set. The irony, and Adam loved irony, was that he had a sneaking suspicion as to why she always got bad reception around the exact same time. He mused over that because in reality, he was the reason why.

As he listened to her complain, the post man came in and, as friendly as always, he dropped off a few packages for Adam and left quickly. Sometimes the mail guy would hang around and chat for a spell but, with Misses Kaplan going on and on he beat a hasty retreat. Adam really couldn’t blame the guy even if he dearly wished the man would have stayed! Instead, condemned to listen to the old woman cackle way, Adam decided to use the time to go through the packages and envelops on his counter. He would just occasionally smile and nod to Misses Kaplan, just to keep her happy. He did not think she actually realized he was not listening.

One package in particular, a large manila envelop with a return address that said it was from Radio World in Manhattan, stuck out above all the rest. Adam always got a lot of packages from a host of other radio shops. Swapping parts was very much a reality in the new and hi tech world of electronics. That was particularly true of small shops like the one that Adam ran. Cannibalizing defective sets for still working parts and trading them to others was a lot cheaper than ordering new stuff, particular the tubes, from the manufacturer.

Holding the package high so that Misses Kaplan could see it, Adam told her, “tell you what. You bring me your set and I will fix it for free. If it doesn’t work I will make sure you get another one at no charge. This is a special part I’ve been waiting on Misses Kaplan. I have to get back to work now.”

As was almost always the case, a simple word like “free” was enough to get rid of her. Adam chuckled about that long after the woman was gone. He also mused over the fact that some stereotypes were truly real. It was not that a Christian would turn down free. It was more like Jews always trumpeted it as some kind of badge of honor like they had just won a football match. It was almost enough to make him laugh and one of the few times that he did when he thought about Jews.

Adam sat down at his work bench and opened the package. He took over the stack of photographs that were inside and began going through them. One particular photograph stood out more than all the others. He thumped one side of the picture, the side with the pretty little girl, and said quietly to himself, “I know who you are.” Then he thumped the other side of the picture, that showed some man, and Adam asked himself, “and who are you my friend?”

Adam set the picture aside and went over to a very cluttered corner of what was generally a cluttered shop. He pushed aside a few boxes and other junk and then lifted up the loose floor board underneath. After that he went through the files that were just sloppily stored beneath. He found one particular folder that was marked, ‘Egypt 1939,’ and took it back to his work bench. Adam began thumbing through the reports inside the folder until he found a small picture. He examined the photo and then compared it to one he had just received. The two faces matched.

The picture that was taken in Egypt was almost two years old now but it was definitely the same man as the one in the newly arrived photo. Back in Egypt the guy had dealt with a couple of local arms dealers who also happened to sell information as well. They were not so picky about who they dealt with either. Anybody with cash would normally do, for them, and that was how Adam had come by the older picture. This guy had bought a couple of American made, and very expensive, sub-machineguns from the Arabs. As Adam recalled, he had been told that the guy was quite picky about his choice of weapons.

Adam had tried to find out who the man was but, there was almost no trail at all. It was almost like the guy had just popped out of thin air, fully grown. It was not like such things were impossible. Adam had been in this business a long time and he had seen it before. What surprised him was that an American had covered his tracks so well. Adam would have expected it from the British but, an American? They were children when it came to espionage.

The man did have a British passport but, he was most obviously not British. His name, John Smith, was also a laughable alias. Past that, the guy seemed like a thorough going professional. He had a job as a Merchant Marine and he had obviously switched ships, at some point after Egypt, because Adam had lost his trail once that vessel, Achilles, made port in Boston. In fact, it was one of the reasons Adam had decided to stay in America a while longer.

“Not a coincidence,” Adam said to himself. He had wondered if the guy was really a player or just some lunatic with a gun fetish. Those kinds of people did exist. Now Adam was sure of which it was.

He took the new picture, turned it over on it’s back, and drew a big question mark. Then he pinned it up on his board, off to one side. The other pictures on the board were of a host of men, and even a few women, and they all had strings pinned between them. They formed a sort of pyramid that started at the top with a picture of the US Secretary of the Navy that was cut from and a newspaper clipping. The strings filtered down to a host of others. Adam had yet to identify some of them but, at least he knew what they did. With this new guy, well, Adam did not have a clue. He knew he had to find out.

Adam was so deep in thought on the matter that he almost missed the clicking sound of his radio receiver. When he realized it truly was that particular radio he checked his watch and then looked at the calendar on the wall next to him. Why was it clicking now? He walked over to the radio, sat down in front of it, and began jotting down the dashes and dots that it was making. Once he was sure he had the entire message he went over to a shelf and pulled down the 1939 Sears mail order catalog. He began flipping pages and writing down words as the dots and dashes indicated.

When Adam finished he had a coherent sentence on the paper. It was short, vague, and to the point. That was quite normal but, unexpected at this time. Of course Adam was sure the content explained the unusual timing. It did not. The message simply read, “they are coming.”