At Wit's End (16 page)

“You’re definitely biased but I don’t hold that against you. Are you sure?”

“
I’m as sure as I can be. I’ve read emails and seen digital copies of the invoices.”

“Where were the chemicals delivered?” Hirsch queried. He took a small notebook from his pocket and began taking notes.

“To the same address you already have on file. I guarantee they’ve been moved.”

Hirsch laid down his pen. “I’m sure you’re right. This is serious but it doesn’t sound like you’re in personal danger. No more than usual anyway. I may end up smacking you around, the day is young.”

“Ha ha,” Wit fake laughed. “The personal danger thing is something else. I found out it involves you, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“IGGY is working as an archaeologist, digging through the Brotherhood’s emails. IGGY’s going through their hard drives and network, too. Information is coming in slowly, I’m getting things about a month behind and then, of course, IGGY has to search it for keywords and basic information so it can be compiled in a way that makes sense to you or me.”

“That is some serious programming.” Hirsch was in awe. He’d known the young man was determined but he had no idea how up to date the information could be.

“Once IGGY catches up to current events I’ll receive upates as soon as they do.”

“Okay, forewarned is forearmed.”

“Right. I’ve been under surveillance. It was going on for sure when I came back to New York. There are pictures of my arrival from the airport. I remember what outfit I was wearing. That picture had been emailed to Father Roger and another member within half an hour of my coming home. I suspect they had an eye on me in the islands, too, though I haven’t gone back far enough to confirm that.”

He continued explaining the alarm. “A car was rented and gas supplied to said car through a credit card issued to the Brotherhood. I still can’t believe they’re a business,” Wit snorted in disgust. “
The fill ups have been charged to gas stations located near here. And then I saw the next grouping of pictures.”

Hirsch leaned forward and looked at the screen over Wit’s shoulder. The young man pointed and Hirsch saw himself, repeatedly, all over town. He felt viol
ated and disgust at never picking up the tail. Hirsch angled away.

“The trial is coming up. It’s in two weeks, right?” he asked.

Wit checked the date in the corner of his monitor. “More like ten days,” he answered.

“Then it would make sense for them to be keeping an eye on us. They’re looking for dirt to cast credibility issues. I’ll be fine,” Hirsch looked pointedly at Wit, “but what can they dig up on you?”

“Them? Not a thing. I keep myself covered, you know that.”

“Okay
then. We’ll worry about the personal danger alarm later. Right now I want to read that file and we should try to figure out what their next target is going to be.”

“Jeez,” Wit muttered, “you sound like a detective or something.”

Hirsch smacked the back of Wit’s head with his open palm. “Point me to a work station. I have another file on the Brotherhood at the office. I can remote in from here.” He paused. “Do you already have a copy?”

Wit whistled innocently. He stood and moved to the two left most screens, top and bottom. He unclipped a latch and the monitors smoothly swung around until they were aimed for Hirsch’s use. Wit hit a button and a virtual keyboard appeared on the desk in front of Hirsch.
He waved his hand in a ta-da gesture and stepped back.

Each monitor had a document on it. Hirsch saw they were the files he and Wit had put together separately
, sitting side by side. Professionally he was curious to see how Wit’s report matched up to his own. Both men sat in their chairs and began reading.

The familiar musty smell of a building long closed up was the first thing Marie recognized when she began to wake from the horrible dream she’d been having. It reminded her of the hunting cabin Michael had taken her to when they went on the canoe trip. Michael? No, James.

A lamp next to her gave off dull illumination. She
rolled her eyes to the side and her skull followed. Her brain screamed in raging hot agony, an abrasion scraped over ragged asphalt. Marie vowed to never move again. She must have hit her head very hard. What kind of tests did they do for that? She could answer various questions but without anyone around to tell her if she was correct or not it would be a pointless exercise meant only to make her feel better. She could skip that for now.

The musty smell had assailed her nostrils when she’d turned her head. Bracing herself Marie looked down the length of her body. She was lying on a reclining lawn chair, propped up comfortably.
There was a chill in the air, Marie could feel it on her hands, but she appeared to be wearing a khaki vest she’d never seen before and it was keeping the chill at bay.

The room was empty of furniture. The ceilings were high and a large white paddle fan spun lazily. The walls were either pine or panelled in a pine look alike - Marie was too far away to tell with her slightly blurred vision.

The floors were hardwood, a dark colour Marie couldn’t name. There were sweep marks in the dust from a haphazardly done task. As though on cue her allergy to dust kicked up and she sneezed rapidly three times in a row. The pain waxed and waned and she was thankful it hadn’t rattled her as badly as when she first woke up. She waited for someone to reflexively bless her and when that didn’t happen Marie knew she was alone in the room.

She
wasn’t alone for long. A door opened and a man came in carrying several items. It was the elder of the two men from the alley. He looked her over and seemed glad she was awake.

Henry came over to her and began fidgeting with the vest. Marie tried to squirm away and found she could not. Her wrists and ankles were tied to the long lawn chair.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice broke from fear or pain or both.

Henry did not answer her. He began looping bright yellow wires through the various pockets of the vest. Marie hadn’t realized there were things in the pockets until this moment and that’s when she felt how weighted the khaki vest was.

“What’s in the pockets? What are you doing?” She watched, enthralled, as he tugged on wires to make sure they were secure. “Why won’t you answer me?”

He looked up at her and made a
shush
motion with his finger to his lips. Apparently he really wasn’t going to answer her questions. The door opened again and the younger man entered. He had a newspaper and a camera with him. He did not look at Marie or speak, merely waited for orders from Henry.

When he was sure the vest was hooked up the way he had envisioned it, the way he’d seen
the pictures on the internet, Henry waved Jacob over. He took the newspaper from him and laid it across Marie’s lap. She noticed it was that day’s paper, the headline was one she had read that morning. He folded and propped it in a way that left the date visible.

Marie realized this was starting to feel like a scene from a movie. Had she been kidnapped? Is that something that actually happened in the modern era?

“What are you doing?” she kept angling to get away and made no progress. Once again Henry raised his head to look at her and gave her the
shushing
motion. He patted her hand and Marie took no comfort from the move. His calloused hand gave her chills.

Jacob stepped closer to the chair and laid an alarm clock in between her slightly spread knees. She could see the face of it and realized it was not an alarm clock per se. It appeared to be set to countdown unless 13:00 was a real time. Militarily it would be 1300 so automatically she discounted that thought.

Dear God, were these men putting a bomb on her? She began to shake and prayed she wouldn’t wet her pants in fear. It felt like a very real possibility.

Henry finished adjusting the wires and clock. He stepped back and took in the entire view.
Henry was well aware of the nightmares Wit had suffered from since the nightclub bombing. If this didn’t make him do what they wanted then nothing would. He stepped forward, straightened the clock and stepped back. Still without speaking he took a photo with the digital camera. He jerked his thumb to the door and both men exited the room which left Marie feeling very alone and very frightened.

She tried to count seconds and keep track of time but she couldn’t concentrate. She’d make it to ten and her mind would wander, hoping this was all some sort of nightmare she’d wake up from if only she could figure out how.

“My eyes feel like they’re turning square.”

“What?” Hirsch asked distractedly.

“I’ve been staring at too many screens for way too long,” Wit explained. ”We sho
uld get up and move or something.”

“And what, take a walk? These idiots appear to be planning to blow something up in New York City,” Hirsch reminded him.

“Yeah but it’s not likely to happen tonight,” Wit countered. He stood and went to the small closet. He removed something and kept it behind his back. “If we go into information overload we won’t be able to make sense of any of it. And IGGY gave us a
lot
of information.”

“You’re right. Give me five more minutes,” Hirsch requested, “I want to finish this section. It’s about their travels. I might be able to zero in on their headquarters.” He turned back to the screen on the right and continued reading.

“That has been driving me crazy,” Wit agreed. He turned to the wall and pitched the red bouncy ball against it, caught it, threw it again, caught it. “I think it’s in the Catskills. I can’t quite figure out where.” He angled the ball for a better ricochet that involved the ceiling and floor in his game.

His eyelid twitching with every bounce of the ball Hirsch abruptly stood up from the computer. “Let’s go for a swim. You’re driving me crazy with that thing.”

Wit gave a smirk. He enjoyed manipulating Hirsch. He couldn’t get away with it very often so this was a small victory. He picked his phone up from the counter and frowned at the display. “Have we really been working on this for five hours?”

Hirsch checked the time on his phone. “It appears so. And I don’t think we had Daylight Savings tonight. Why?”

“Marie should have been here hours ago.” Wit’s brow creased. “She hasn’t messaged me. I thought she was going to after she went to view a building.”

“Call her,” Hirsch suggested. “I’m going to go change into a suit. Are they still in the guest bedroom?”

“Yeah,” Wit waved him on distracted.

“I haven’t seen it since the redecoration. If my shorts have Victorian flowers on them I’ll be going commando and it will be your fault.”

An image of a naked Hirsch tried to wend its way into Wit’s brain. He fought it off and tapped out a quick text message for Marie. While he waited for the response he too changed into a swim suit.

Several laps later his cell phone let out a tone. Wit shook the water from his hair and eyes and vaulted from the water. His muscles felt loose and he could fe
el his brain engaging. If he followed it up with a bag of chips he might start to feel human again.

Wit picked up the small device and saw the email icon was flashing. He tapped it and saw a message from Marie. He noted it had been sent from her cell phone which he thought odd. At this time of night – morning now - he would have thought she’d be home and on her laptop.

The body of the message was blank but there was an attachment. He opened it. The tiny screen loaded the image quickly and it took a moment for Wit to recognize what he was seeing.

Every nerve in his body went numb. The phone fell from his fingers but the image had
been burnt into his retinas. He’d never be able to un-see the horrible image. His stomach gave one warning gurgle before he bent in two and vomited everything he’d eaten in his life.

Wit turned and fell to his knees. He bent to the floor and thrust his hands around his head. He rocked while his glassy eyes stared at something only he could see.

Hirsch heard the phone drop, the retching sounds coming from the other end of the swimming pool. When he saw his friend hit the ground he jumped from the water and ran to him. Deftly avoiding the vomitus he picked up the phone and swung an arm around Wit’s shoulder. He recognized shock when he saw it. The young man was icy cold and shaking; his lips moved but no sound emerged.

Hirsch touched the screen and
brought the device back to life. Marie was holding a newspaper and she wore a vest with wires going every which way. Hirsch had been given some serious training after 9/11 and he could recognize a suicide/homicide bomber vest from at least a block away.

“Oh shit,” Hirsch whispered and turned his attention back to his young friend. It was completely possible this could send Wit over the final ledge of sanity he’d been clinging to for six months. One damning picture could easily be the end of Brad Witson
. The agent couldn’t let that happen, he knew he was going to need Wit to help him stop whatever this was.

“Bradley! You have to snap out of this!” Hirsch had been trying to get Wit’s attention and failing. He considered his options quickly. The smell of Wit’s purge mixed with the Chlorine from the pool was making his own gorge churn. Still crouched, he duck-walked in an arc until he knelt in front of Wit.

He placed his hand under Wit’s chin and tried to meet the young man’s eyes. He was staring off into the distance and viewing a scene Hirsch could only imagine. He hadn’t been at the night club when it had exploded; he’d been chasing a lead in a case in upstate New York. Standing at the counter of a cheap motel he had
caught the breaking news alert and had, through sheer coincidence, seen Wit standing in shock while fire fighters battled to extinguish the flames.

Hir
sch had left the motel without second thought and raced back to the city. He’d always felt close to the young men who had died in that fire; he had been a mentor to the five of them whether they had known it or not. The look Wit now wore was quite familiar to Hirsch. He’d seen it that night as they’d stared at the smoking wreckage.

“Witson!” Hirsch’s voice echoed as sharp as a gunshot. He slapped Wit’s cheek and put a little extra into it.

“It’s my fault. She’s going to die and it’s my fault,” Wit stated without emotion.

“She is not going to die and it’s the fault of the assholes that have her, not you,” Hirsch said forcefully. “You need to believe that.”

Wit raised his head. “I have to find her. How am I going to do that?”

“First we’re going to dry off and put on warm clothes.
You’ll brush your teeth. Then, in case you have forgotten, I am a federal officer, a trained investigator. You and I are going to put our heads together and see if IGGY is as effective as you believe it to be. I hope it is because we could really use an advantage.”

Wit felt a nugget of hope begin to warm his insides. He’d designed IGGY for something like this but… “This isn’t a game, Hirsch. IGGY hasn’t been tested in any way that would prepare us for this.”

“Then we had better hope you’re a better programmer than you think you are. Let’s go back downstairs.”

Marie sat very still. She was afraid to move for fear the bomb would trigger at any vibration. She wasn’t an expert, how would she know? Every few moments she would notice that she was holding her breath and she’d force herself to breathe. Fainting from lack of oxygen didn’t seem like it would be a very good idea either.

The clock sat between her legs. It was facing the wrong way for her to see the time, however, so she had no idea how long she sat alone. She was able to read the headline of the newspaper though it was upside down. She couldn’t count how many times she read it while waiting for whatever was going to happen next:
New York City Approves Mosque, Protests at Courthouse
. The accompanying photograph was along the fold and the tops of people’s heads were visible with illegible signs.

The door behind her opened. Marie expected to see the guy who had brought her to this place. Her fear had her convinced he looked far more sinister than a slightly doughy
and bearded man in his mid-40’s should.

Marie
briefly wondered who would want to kidnap her much less blow her up. In all the ways she had considered her death occurring, this particular method hadn’t even made the top 100. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach this had something to do with Wit.

Th
e man stood with an erect bearing that intuitively said “military”. He wasn’t wearing fatigues but would be equally, if not more, comfortable in that clothing than in the khaki pants and white dress shirt he wore. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and the top three buttons were undone.

Closely clipped hair so blond it would have appeared grey in photographs matched the golden curls on his forearms.
His age was difficult to discern. His eyes appeared to have seen centuries while his face and body said middle age. Those eyes rested on Marie and creased in consternation.

“This will never do,” he stated. His voice thundered across the room though Marie was sure he had been using a normal speaking tone. His was the voice of
Authority. “They were supposed to disconnect this before they left.” Shaking his head he reached down and gripped the wires. Casually he yanked them free and dropped them to the floor. At Marie’s flinch he apologized. “I’m so sorry. I should tell you this isn’t a real bomb.”

Marie swallowed heavily. “Wha-?” Her voice rasped and she cleared her throat. “What?”

The man reached over and removed a brick of grey clay from the top pocket of the vest. He was careful to keep his fingers from brushing against her inappropriately. “This is Play-Doh. It’s totally harmless.” He pinched a corner from the brick and rolled it between his fingers. “The children play with it after Sunday School. When you mix all the colours together the Play-Doh turns grey for some reason.” He inspected the ball between his fingers. “When I took art class we learned that when you mixed all the colours you discovered mud brown. I guess the teacher had never experimented with this stuff.”

He dropped the small piece and set the brick on a table near Marie’s elbow. His glance darted over the handcuffs. “I suppose you’re wondering who we are, why you’re here and that sort of thing?”

“Yes, please,” Marie agreed.

“It must feel like you’re in a movie. I assure you, there’s nothing farther from the truth.”

Unsure of how to receive that statement Marie chose to say nothing.

“My name is Roger Ingerhoffe. You met Uncle Henry and Brother Jacob. I’m sorry that it wasn’t under better circumstances.”

“You could say that again,” Marie mumbled. The pain in her head was beginning to subside. The grudge building inside was only growing. Revenge was a feeling she had grown to like. With Roger’s use of
Brother
and
Uncle
perhaps the better word would be Retribution.

“Excuse me?” Roger asked. He crouched down to hear her better.

Rather than repeat herself Marie forced her voice to be strong. “Why am I here?”

Before Roger could answer the door opened. Henry came in. He was typing on
a handheld device. At Roger’s inquiring look he said, “Everyone is in place. You should be able to give the go ahead in approximately,” he checked his watch, “seven hours, sir. We have eyes on the building and will know when the cleaning crew leaves. There’s one guard to take care of and the men will remove him from the area before the blast.”

A
satisfied glint appeared in Roger’s eye. “Excellent. Keep me updated. Good work, Henry.”

“Yes, sir, I will. Thank you.” Henry backed away into the shadows of the room. He continued to work on the device.

“Now, where were we? Ah, right. I was going to explain what you’re doing here. First, let me do this.” He removed a group of keys from his pocket. Selecting the smallest one he unlocked the handcuffs that had been keeping her restrained to the lawn chair. “Please, feel free to remove the vest. It’s harmless and may keep you warm, however. This place can be a little drafty.”

“Where are we?” Marie rubbed her wrists. They weren’t sore, it was an instinctive reaction based on being restrained and having watched hundreds of crime dramas in her life. She looked around the room. It reminded her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“It’s an old resort in the mountains. It was closed down in the early 70’s. The government took over the land and forgot about it. We unofficially moved in.” Roger told her. He took the vest Marie had removed and carefully removed the Play-Doh from the pockets. “I’ll have to put that back in the nursery before they know it’s missing. And hopefully Rhoda can get the stains out of the pocket.” He shook his head and laid the vest down.

Marie cocked her head. The man was being very forthcoming with information. She’d read or heard or seen somewhere that if a person who is kidnapped sees the perpetrator’s face it is a near certainty they w
ouldn’t live until the end of the negotiation.

“Are you going to kill me?” Marie asked bluntly.

“Good Heavens, no!” Roger exclaimed. “I’ve researched you, Ms Marie Lee Chase. I know you’re a good Christian woman. Besides, your name reminds me of a nursery song.” The man began humming
Row, Row, Row Your Boat
. At the
merrily, merrily, merrily
part he began singing with a strong bass.

“No, we’re not going to kill you but I’m afraid we do have to use you as a pawn of sorts.”

“What do you mean?” Marie wondered if this man was totally insane. How many people sing to their hostages? Then again, how many people
take
hostages?

“Y
our new friend Bradley Witson is of great interest to me. You see, he’ll be testifying as an eyewitness against two of my men in a trial that starts pretty quick here. These men are being wrongly accused of domestic terrorism. If Bradley does not testify my men will go free.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Marie asked. She kept watch on Roger as she rose awkwardly from the lawn chair. Her butt had fallen asleep on the hard plastic and she wanted to move around. The man hadn’t threatened her with anything other than a children’s moulding toy so she gave it a shot. He made no move to stop her.

“I don’t want to kill Bradley. He’s a good Christian man and someday, when he sees the Light, we’ll be able to use his skills to bring about the Peace we’ve been looking for.”

“Peace, amen,” Henry echoed from the corner.

Roger continued. “Rather than do harm to a fellow Christian I went the opposite route. We’re going to offer Bradley the opportunity to take a several weeks long vacation. You’ll receive one as well though you two cannot go together. I’m afraid yours will be a camping trip here with us. As for Bradley, where he goes is his business. My men will go with him, unobtrusively, and when the judicial coast is clear everyone can go home.”

Marie moved about the room, examin
ing it, while ignoring the tingling in her backside. The wooden floors with faded throw rugs creaked under her light steps. “
Dirty Dancing
,” she blurted out.

“Excuse me?” Roger asked. “Did you just say
dirty dancing?”

Marie nodded, embarrassed. She hadn’t known she was going to speak. “It was a movie in the 80’s. Patrick Swayze was in it. ‘No one puts Baby in a corner,’” she quoted.

“I’m aware of the movie,” he said stiffly.

“That’s what this room reminds me of. Are we in the Catskills?” Marie asked.

Roger cast a benevolent smile. “You’re close. We’re near the Poconos.”

Marie nodded with satisfaction. It felt good to figure something out. “I hate to bring this up but what about forensics? I would imagine the government has an airtight case in that regard.”

Roger turned to the corner. “Uncle Henry? Would you care to explain?”

The older man nodded. “Of course, Father Roger. Ma’am, in less than seven hours the evidence will no longer exist. Fire is a great equalizer.” He turned his attention back to the updates he was receiving from the field.

“And what if I don’t want to hang out here for the next, what, month?” Marie challenged.

“I said I don’t want to hurt a good Christian man or woman, that does not mean I won’t,” Roger told her. “Now, I have some things to attend to. Your purse is there with everything in it except your cell phone. I’m afraid Henry disposed of that
after your journey here.”

“You threw my phone away?” Marie asked, stricken. She’d loved that phone, had been thrilled when she could finally afford the latest and greatest in communications technology.

Yes, Ma’am, I’m sorry. I had to remove the battery and destroy your cell. Witson has capabilities to track GPS. We’re going to limit his options until he goes. Out of the country would be best though I’ll accept his going underground so long as his federal friends can’t find him,” he explained.

Marie’s heart sank. She’d been counting on Wit doing exactly what the man had prevented. Her rescue options were dwindling and she knew she should start figuring out an escape plan. Sometimes a girl had to do it on her own.

“There’s an intercom here, by the door,” Roger pointed to it as he moved to the exit. The only available one in the room as the windows appeared to be boarded over. Marie would be testing the nails’ strength shortly. “We’ve found if you hold the button for more than a moment it will send out a small shock. Be careful. Our electrician hasn’t gotten to this yet. If you need anything, however, press the button and one of my men will get it for you. The restroom is through that door,” he pointed and when she turned away to look he and Henry slipped out. She heard a lock click from the outside.

“Well, shit,” she said to the empty room.

The two men entered the penthouse apartment. Wit strode to a sideboard containing crystal decanters of differently coloured liquors. He reached for a bottle Hirsch recogniz
ed as being filled with whiskey. He slapped the bottle from Wit’s hand.

“Don’t
you think you’ve had enough of that shit?” he asked. Wit stared at him with his jaw figuratively at the floor. Hirsch had never raised a hand to him in any way before. “I need you to have your wits about you. This stuff,” he jerked his head toward the many bottles, “is the farthest thing you could get from being helpful. Are you with me?”