At Wit's End (12 page)

She nodded. “Sometimes, when I’m really involved in a project, I’ll forget
what I was looking at as I go to each screen.”

“Exactly. I use these
monitors to prevent that, as a short explanation. I don’t run all of them all the time.”

Marie thought about it. “Okay, I can understand that. What did you want to show me?”

Wit pointed back at the screen. Marie carefully read the top. “Is that your personal banking information?”

“Some of it,” he shrugged. “I trust you not to run out to Central Park and broadcast the information.” He grinned at her. “I’m about to push a button. When I do your business loan will be back in your account and C U There will be
financially viable once more.”

“Did you take it from James?”

“Not yet. I thought about it some. I have a few ideas to make that come full circle which are very technical.”

“I’m not nearly awake enough for technical.”
She watched his hand hover above the mouse. “Really? One button?”

“Yep. This one.” He clicked the confirmation and his account balance dropped the exact amount her loan had been. “You are officially solvent again.”

Marie’s spirit soared but at the same time… “Wit, I can’t take your money.”

“Trust me
when I say it’s going to work out in the end.”

“I’m going to consider it a loan.” She was determined on this point.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll get my money’s worth.” And have a clear conscience to boot, he didn’t add. Dream Will would have been proud of him.

Marie thought about what she’d just said. A loan from the bank, a loan from Wit, her debts were doubling as she stood there.

Wit interrupted her musing. “I consider it an investment in my mental sanity.”

“What?”

“Working with you, the events that I pitched in on, helped bring me back out of my personal shell of misery. I feel better now than I have in months.” Wit spun in his chair, rose and started pacing. “I’ve never had my hands in what I’ve been eating.”

Marie grinned. “I’ve gone grocery shopping with you. You have no
need to tell me you don’t cook. I’m well aware.”

“It’s not the cooking. Well, maybe it is. I don’t know. What I
do
know is that you’re good for me. I hope you’ll stay around for a while. That’s the kind of therapy I could get interested in.”

“That’s not why you used your money, is it?” She looked so horrified Wit had to stifle a laugh.

“No, not at all. I’m not trying to bribe you to spend time with me. Like I said, I have a plan to make this all work out in the end. And please do not say the ends justify the means. We aren’t at the end yet. Do you think you can trust me for a few more days?”

Marie didn’t have to think about it. “Of course.”
She considered what had happened over the past several days. A lump formed in her throat. “Bradley, I don’t know how to thank you for this.” She wrapped her arms around him once more and let the emotions course through her. There was a sense of relief mixed with the remainder of the stress she had been under.

“You already have,” he told her. “And you’re very welcome. I sense a mutually beneficial relationship on multiple levels. There’s potential here.” Wit discovered he liked the way she
had said his first name, it sounded natural.

“Yes, there is.” Which answered one question Marie had been worrying. Would they go their separate ways when this situation was resolved? Apparently not.
“So, what’s next?” she asked.

Wit
picked up one of the boxes George the doorman had had delivered. He examined the box and didn’t believe it had been tampered with during shipment. He slit the tape along the top with a small knife and opened it. Packing peanuts fell everywhere as he removed a smaller cardboard box. He checked the edges and, once again, decided it hadn’t been opened. From that he removed a cellular phone.

“This is what’s next,” he showed her the phone. “I am going to need thirty seconds near his cell phone.”

“What is it?”

Wit thought about the explanation. “Have you ever heard of cloning a phone?”

Marie cocked her head to the side. “It sounds like copying a phone.”

“That’s it in a nutshell,” he agreed. “I can use this to clone Brandt’s phone, any phone actually, and then I can listen in on his calls, read his text messages and emails, etc. This one in particular has an added feature. When I’ve decided he doesn’t need his phone anymore I
can enter a code and it will brick his phone.”

“What does that mean? To brick it?”

“Essentially it turns it into a paperweight. He won’t be able to use it in any way. It won’t even turn on.”

“And we want his email and text messages?”

Wit nodded. “We do. We also want the passwords that will be stored in it. I assume it’s a Smart Phone and, therefore, will have his home network information on it. I can get into that another way but this may be easier all around. More information with less work.”

“More bang for your buck?”

“I wish it had only cost a buck to design this thing,” Wit grinned.

“Okay, well, how do we get to his phone?”

“That’s easy enough.” Wit reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square. “He actually gave me his business card. I’m going to set up a meeting with him somewhere public. I’ll clone his phone and do some social engineering.”

“Social engineering?”

“That’s what he did to you but in a longer term fashion. Using a persona to extract information you shouldn’t be able to get normally.”

“I see.” Marie thought about it. “That seems like a dirty trick.”

“Oh, it most definitely is.” Wit checked the time. “It’s too late to call him for that meeting now. I’ll try him in the morning.”

“Sounds good to me,” she replied. “In the meantime,” she eased closer to where he sat, a gleam in her eye, “how about a late dinner in bed?”

The image in the mirror was not one Wit was familiar with any longer. The man wore a business suit that was slightly baggy due to weight loss. His
dark hair was slickly styled and he had a close shave. The tie that hung askew around his neck was something he didn’t want to deal with.

“You would think after wearing a noose around my neck for three years that I’d be able to still tie one after 6 months,” he grumbled to Marie.

“I’m not sure you need it,” she told him. “Though you’ve scheduled this as a business meeting, Kid Midas has been out of the game for a while. It would make sense for you to not wear the full regalia.”

He considered her point and had to agree. Thankfully he took off the jacket and tie and selected a burgundy cashmere sweater instead. Marie straightened the collar of his shirt and stood back, staring.

“Well? How do I look?” he asked.

“Like money with a capital M.” Marie knew Wit was well off financially, the apartment practically screamed it, she just hadn’t seen him with the full effect.

“Brandt actually thought I was destitute,” he told her. “He suggested I could work with him to recoup my losses over the last several months.”

“And the reality?”

“I could buy and sell him and his firm several times over.” No ego, no vanity, it was the truth. “What are you going to do today?”

“Well, as much as I enjoyed having the concierge bring me random clothes, I think I’m going to run back to my place and do some laundry, water the plants, things like that. Then, I’m taking my checkbook out for some exercise. C U There is behind schedule. The building I wanted to lease has been taken by someone else so I’ll be looking for office
and kitchen space over the next few days.”

“Sounds like you’ll be busy
,” Wit commented.

“I will
, thank goodness. I won’t be worried about you meeting with Brandt.”

“Nothing bad will happen. That’s one of the reasons I picked a public arena. I’ll chat him up for a few minutes, clone the phone and then I’m out of there. I’ll call you when I’m finished and let you know how it goes.”

“That would set my mind at ease, thank you. And good luck.” Marie kissed his cheek and, when they reached the lobby, watched him slide into his Lamborghini and wondered what she was doing.

The restaurant was near the Financial District and
remained open from lunchtime thru 7:00 in the evening. Their clientele consisted almost entirely of workers from the area. They offered quick lunches, generally consisting of sandwiches or some kind of broiled chicken. The menu had not changed in five years which also made ordering easier.

Brandt requested the table in the window and watched the street out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t been surprised when Witson had called for a meeting. It was his destiny to have everything he needed fall into his lap and it had been only a matter of time before Witson had followed suit.

Eight days remained before he had to deliver the cash to Charles. Any monies he received from Witson would take three days to clear, give or take, and that would leave him plenty of time. If Witson flaked, or dithered, he’d be able to show Charles the prospect and surely that would buy him the extra days he’d need.

Content with his plan Brandt used his phone and scrolled through the emails that had come in while he sat waiting. Witson was late but that was okay, Brandt had nothing else on his calendar for the day. That should have told him something, no client meetings or other appointments on a Monday in the spring, but he
ignored that discomfort.

A rumble caught his attention and he turned to the street. One of the most beautiful cars he’d ever seen sat idling at the curb. Valet attendants were fighting over the chance to park it. Brandt had priced that shimmering black Lamborghini out and knew the exact cost. He wondered who would be emerging once one of the valets finally opened the door.

Wit slid smoothly from the low seat and gave a generous tip to the salivating valet. He looked vaguely like the guy in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off who stole the classic car and went joyriding with his friends. Reminding himself it was merely a car and he’d be done with this meeting in less than half an hour he entered the bustling café.

He spotted Brandt immediately and made his way to the table, stopping along the way and greeting familiar faces. Wit had planned this. He wanted Brandt to know he hadn’t lost a step and Kid Midas was not a man to mess with. His reputa
tion was flawless even with the six month sabbatical.

Finally he reached Brandt who rose to shake his hand. Wit kept his distance to prevent another one of those man hugs. He’d never cared for those and he definitely did not want to hug the man who had hurt Marie so callously. They sat at the table, Wit across from Brandt with his back to the window. The glare would give him an advantage and he could watch the room. Silly CEO Tricks 101.

“It’s nice to see you, Witson,” Brandt’s voice was hale, hearty and without a care in the world. Wit disliked him even more for that. He made a mental bet the man would pull out his cell phone within the next five minutes. It was a rude habit and Wit had killed deals over it before however this time he needed it to happen. To encourage it he removed the device that looked like a cell phone and placed it next to his empty plate.

“It’s interesting to see you, Brandt. I don’t have a lot of time to waste so why don’t you tell me about these projects you think I’d be interested in.”
Playing the casual listener Wit paged through the cheesy prospectus on a tech company Wit knew would go bankrupt within the next year that the man laid out before him.

Wit continued to feign interest until Brandt’s phone finally jangled from his pocket. Wit casually reached out and hit a button on the side of the device and it began the thirty second process of cloning Brandt’s phone. He gave it a full minute before he picked it up and began looking through Brandt’s information
while he sat in front of him.

“I’ll tell you right now what you’re selling is junk,” Wit stopped Brandt in mid-rave about the tech stock and the potential of the company. He looked at the phone in his hand again.
“Why don’t we cut through all the BS right now?” Wit asked him.

Brandt looked at him, dumbstruck. “What are you talking about?”

“You are in desperate need of money. I haven’t figured out why, yet, though I’ve narrowed it down to gambling or drugs. Gambling is in the lead.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Brandt sniffed and tried to look insulted. “You’ve obviously gone off your rocker.”

“Have I?” Wit asked him. “Does the name Marie Chase ring any bells?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Apparently this meeting is over. I’m sorry you’re not interested in making money.” Brandt rose to leave.

“Sit down,” Wit commanded. “I know what you did to Marie and if you want your peers to know, too, then by all means go ahead and leave.”

“No one would believe you. You’re a washed up beach bum wearing last season’s clothes.” But Brandt sat.

“Is that what you think?” Wit raised his voice
, “Hey, Maloney! I’ve got something in the hopper, want in?”