At Wit's End (18 page)

Hirsch shared a look with Wit and mimed a zipper over his mouth. Wit nodded. “What’s the price to free Marie? What do you think this is going to accomplish? You’re under a spotlight before the trial and you kidnap someone? I assume you took her over state lines. This is not going to end well for you.” Hirsch shook his head quickly but Wit ignored him.

“I want you to take a vacation,” Ingerhoffe told him. “Go back to the Islands, play around in Jamaica. Go somewhere no one will think to look for you.”

“There are better ways to make me get lost,” Wit said. “Why do you want me out of the country?”

“I want you somewhere a subpoena can’t find you,” Ingerhoffe answered. “Until two weeks after the start date of the trial. You’re their star witness and their case will fall apart without you.”

Not completely,
Wit thought,
there is always forensics.
“I appreciate that you don’t want to kill me,” Wit said without sounding grateful at all, “and I do believe I could use a vacation.”

“You’re sounding very agreeable
. I like that,” Ingerhoffe told him. Marcus gave a motion telling him to end the call. “We’ll be monitoring you. If you aren’t making reservations and packing within two hours I will be very disappointed. I hate to think a good Christian man would lie to another.”

Um, okay. “Whatever you want,” Wit said forcefully, “
please don’t hurt her.”

“Thank you, Son. We’ll be talking again soon.”

Ingerhoffe ended the call and grinned broadly at Marcus. “That went well,” his voice boomed across the room. The volume expanded when he was in a good mood which had been often lately.

“Don’t count these particular chickens before they
’ve hatched,” Marcus said. “I’ve known Wit for years. He’s unpredictable and sneaky.”

“Keep an eye on him,” Roger ordered. “Henry, I’m hungry. Shall we?”

“You can’t leave the country, Bradley. There’s a chance you’d end up in prison for it,” Hirsch broke the silence in the room. He had to. The humming of the computers was driving him crazy.

Wit sat with his eyes closed. He had heard Hirsch but there was a nugget of something in the back of his brain tickling him with the thou
ght he may have missed an important clue. He ignored the man while he tried to pull the idea into view. He opened his eyes and his gaze landed on the greasy bags from the deli.

“How did I know you were at the deli?” he asked Hirsch. There was a glint of excitement in his eyes.

“You tell me,” the older man answered. “I’ve given up on figuring out how you know some things.”

“A magician never reveals his tricks but this time I will. May I see your keys?” A perplexed Hirsch handed them over. Wit used a small tool to open the back. “I installed
a tracer in your remote starter key fob.” He pried out the tiny element and showed it to Hirsch.

“You have got to be kidding me. You had me bugged?” Hirsch couldn’t sit still. He began pacing the room. Wit wa
tched him pinball from wall to wall

“It’s not like I had audio or visual. I merely knew where you were twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

“Right. You didn’t violate my privacy at all,” Hirsch rolled his eyes. “What’s the point of this confession?” He thought for a moment. “Oh my God, did you bug Marie, too?”

A devilish glint appeared in Wit’s eye. “I sure did.” He spun to the keyboa
rd and loaded the program he’d minimized when Hirsch had first arrived. “Wait.”

Hirsch stood
over his shoulder. He wanted to watch exactly how Wit did this.
And we’re going to have a little chat about the fourth amendment later.
“What’s wrong?”

“Ingerhoffe seemed confident he’d know if I wasn’t arranging my travel, didn’t he?” At Hirsch’s inquiring look he continued, “Between the jamming and bouncing of cell signals and that tone of confidence I think I might be better off using a cold machine.”

“Do you have one?”

“That’s a silly question,” Wit answered. He went to the closet and knelt. He peeled back a corner of the carpet and entered a code. A safe door swung open and he removed a laptop. “I keep this updated with everything I need. It’s never been connected to a network that’s connected to me.”

“Is that how you stay anonymous during your ‘investigations’?” Hirsch asked.

“
It’s one of many. I’ll set up IGGY to run a diversion,” he said as he waited for the powerful laptop to boot up. He’d stored the latest version of IGGY on it a few nights ago while Marie had been sleeping; the same night he’d put the bug in her fob. “And voila! I have her location.”

Wit turned the screen so Hirsch could see it. “That doesn’t look like Promised Land State Park. The blinking dot is too far away.”

Wit did some calculations. “I think that may be the Delaware State Park.” He selected the option for driving directions.

“It looks like it will take us about two hours to get there. That will give me time to get the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team scrambling.”

“You’d better hurry. It’s only going to take us an hour to get there in the Lamborghini.” Wit was packing a satchel with items he thought they may need. “There are some clothes in the guest room where your shorts were stored. Go put something dark on. That dress shirt will give us away from a mile out.”

Grumbling Hirsch did as
told. While the man changed Wit set up his Command Center to space out several searches for airfare to various parts of the Caribbean. If his system was compromised this would keep the Brotherhood distracted.

He zipped up the pack and went to change before meeting up with Hirsch. He pressed a small button on the device he’d used on Michael Morrison’s phone and watched with satisfaction as the bars of signal displayed on Hirsch’s screen disappeared. He’d jammed Hirsch’s phone. No one was calling in back
-up until he’d assessed the situation. Hirsch wouldn’t like it but he would have to deal with those feelings on his own time.

By the time the young bearded man had brought her dinner Marie had decided it was time to take action. She’d waited impatiently while he set the plate on the table just so and practically bowed out of the room. Had she not heard the lock of the door she would have felt like the honoured guest Roger purported her to be.

The chances of the meal being drugged were slim. If they hadn’t used drugs to knock her out and kidnap her then they probably wouldn’t use them in the
food. Besides it smelled delicious. After one bite she would have begged the chef for the recipe.

Marie left the empty plate by the door and went to the bathroom. She closed th
at door and used the flimsy latch to lock it. The pressure from the faucet in the shower was strong and she used it to mask any sounds she was about to make.

There was a tiny microphone hidden in the lamp near the lawn chair
in the main room. Marie quickly searched the bathroom fixtures and cabinets. First she looked for more microphones and then she began looking for anything that would work as a tool or weapon.

The rod for the shower curtain had looked promising until Marie realized it was made of
aluminium; a flimsy, half metal if ever there was one. She was fairly certain she needed something that would work as a pry bar. The towel rod came to mind and she looked it over.

The rod was definitely a thick wood. Prying the boards in the window shouldn’t be a problem. It would also work as a club if she felt threatened enough to use it. There was one problem, however; the screws keeping the rod flush to the wall had been painted over several times over several decades. Marie
thumped her head into the wall repeatedly.

A gentle steam began rolling out from behind the shower curtain. Marie looked at it and thought hard. She remembered using hot water and steam to loosen paint on windows. It would stand to reason the same thing would work here.

She needed a cup or jar, some way to carry hot water. A knife would help, too, so she could unscrew the plates. The water heater needed to hold out and she gave a quick prayer. She slid out of the barely open door – she wanted the steam to keep building – and quickly retrieved the knife and stoneware mug that had come with her dinner. Then she grabbed the whole tray and took it with her to the bathroom. Let them think she preferred to eat there. She’d rather be eccentric than caught.

The small room felt like a sauna when she returned with the implements. Marie tied her thick hair into a ponytail. The humidity was going to make her look like a
brunette Little Orphan Annie. She wiped her sweaty palm on a convenient towel that was beginning to dampen.

The knife tip wedged into the cross of the first screw. It refused to turn. Her grip was slick and the knife slipped and struck against the paint thickened tile over and over. She gave the towel rod a frustrated slam with her fist and it fell to the floor.

Marie picked the rod up and saw the ancient tiles had given out. This would work out better. Having the added wedging capability would give her more options. Marie turned off the shower and returned to the other room. It was ice cold compared to the bathroom and Marie shivered.

There was no thermostat that she could see but a fireplace was across the room. Perhaps she could pull a reverse Santa Claus and disappear
up
the chimney. She knelt and looked up the flue. Though she had a petite frame there was no way she was squeezing her way up there. When she stood she had a thick film of soot on her hand.

She could use that to help disguise her white skin in the dark night when she got
away. A plan was actually forming and Marie began to believe she really would be able to get out of this room by herself. She imagined Wit was coming – or had a plan – but she didn’t want to wait. She
couldn’t
wait because she was the only person who knew about the plan to bomb the courthouse. It was her responsibility to tell someone.

Her jaw tightened with determination. She chose the bathroom window after examining the others in the room. The boards across the window
s in the main room looked new and whoever had installed them had done so with pride. Each nail was equidistant from the next. The bathroom window had older boards that were swollen with moisture. She would have to remove fewer planks.

Marie went to work.

“Zoom in on that area,” Wit told Hirsch. He jabbed a finger at the screen.

“Watch the road!” If he’d said it once then he’d said it a hundred times but at the moment it was worth repeating. “I’ll navigate if you promise not to drive this missile into anything at-,” he checked the speedometer and winced, “110 mph. There wouldn’t be anything left of a deer if we hit one. Or us,” he told him.

“Fine,” Wit stifled a laugh. The situation was intense, frightening, yet he hadn’t felt this alive in ages. “We’re looking for a turn off that wouldn’t appear on a normal map. Logging trails and even two tracks would be in our best interest.”

“I know what we’re looking for,” Hirsch snarled. This was not what he considered fun. He checked his phone and saw he still didn’t have a signal. A suspicion began brewing but he kept quiet.

“Slow down,” he told Wit. “There’s a trail coming up in about a mile. It appears to wind around and eventually terminates where Marie is being held. It’s too big to be a game trail and too small to be a road. Left side.”

“I hope the car fits. It will stick out if I have to leave it on the side of the road.”

“Fortunately you have the black m
odel. We may be able to hide it.”

The trail turned out to be a small road. Sections were still paved
but most of it had collapsed over the years and the potholes were many. The ride was rough and Wit worried one of his tires would blow out striking against the sharp stones. The trees were thick on both sides of the road and occasional branches would strike against the windshield or side mirrors.

Eventually the path narrowed enough that Wit no longer felt comfortable driving further. “It looks like we walk from here. I won’t be able
to turn around. If we have to make a run for it I’ll have to do it in reverse.”

“That sounds li
ke a horrible roller coaster ride.” Hirsch’s hand was cramped from holding the chicken stick the entire trip. His nausea subsided as the car rolled to a stop for which he was grateful.

Wit took the laptop from Hirsch and examined the screen. “The definition isn’t the greatest. It looks like this path branches off into a Y. One path goes to a pond and the other ends at a building that isn’t labelled. We’re going to have to split up.”

“Not necessarily,” Hirsch said. “This is supposed to be recon which is more of a surveillance thing. You have the look of a man who wants to go vigilante on me.”

Wit shook his head angrily. “I’m not going to risk Marie’s life without having as much information as possible. There are cabins around the pond and they may be keeping her in one of them. That other building could be a makeshift jail.” Wit’s finger jabbed at the screen.

Hirsch breathed out heavily. “I’m sorry, Wit. My nerves are fraying. I joined the FBI to have a team and not so I could Lone Ranger it whenever it suited me.” He held up a hand before Wit could utter his disagreement. “That didn’t come out how I meant it either. Look, I’ll take the pond trail. I’ll check the cabins and if I see any men I’ll take count. You do the same at the other outbuilding. I’ll join you there and we’ll plan our next step. If you find Marie don’t make a move. Wait for me. Two heads are far better than one and we won’t even discuss the difference between four hands and two.”

“Alright,” Wit nodded. “Grab that satchel.” He’
d thrust it into Hirsch’s lap when they’d gotten into the car. “It has some needed elements.”

At the trunk of the vehicle Wit unzipped the bag. He handed several items to Hirsch. “I assume you know how to use those?”

Hirsch spun the Night Vision Goggles in his hands. “How did you get these? They just came out and are supposed to be under exclusive contract to the Special Teams.”

“I have my ways,” Wit shrugged. “Prototypes can end up in the oddest places.” He tucked a few special items into the various pockets of his cargo pants. “
That is a customized satellite phone. If things go sideways you may need it. Are you ready?”

At the end of the trail the two men went their separate ways.
A sense of urgency made Hirsch worry they had forgotten something. Wit walked with a confident air that Hirsch wished he could emulate. He had a bad feeling about this situation and it never paid off to ignore one’s gut. He checked his phone one last time and discovered he finally had a signal.

Without hesitation
he began going through his speed dials until an actual person answered.

A better angle was needed. Marie looked closely at the tub. It was old-fashioned and looked to be made of thick porcelain. It should hold her weight. Her heart rose to her throat but Marie climbed up and balanced her feet on the thick rims on either side.