At Wit's End

by Lawrence, A. K.

  When she completed the telling Hirsch grinned at her. “That’s exactly what I needed to know. I have a few more questions so bear with me.”

  “Only if I can ask you a few when you’re finished,” She told him.

  “I’ll answer what I can.”

  “That sounds awfully formal,” she chided him, “almost like an interview or interrogation.” She followed it with a smile.

  “Caught,” Hirsch confessed. “I’ll tell you anything that I know for certain.”

  “I swear there are a ton of qualifiers in that statement but I’ll take what I can. What else would you like to know?”

  “Moving on then,” Hirsch tapped the file. “Do you also know a man named James Alan Brandt?”

  Marie had thought this was coming. The next step would be to ask her about Bradley Witson. She knew it would follow questions about Brandt. She let the back of her brain scramble for advance answers as she wondered how much to tell Hirsch. That’s when inspiration struck.

  Every emotion played on her face and Hirsch fought to keep the smile from showing. She was about to lie to him. Not completely, he thought, a small one that she didn’t think would matter. His own fault, he supposed, for keeping the questioning casual.

  “James Brandt is the brother of the fiancé of one of my clients,” she said it proudly, almost as a gotcha statement. “He’s also Michael Morrison.”

  “From the way you said that I gather there is an interesting tale,” Hirsch prodded her to continue.

  “It’s easy enough. I was catering an engagement dinner. The client’s fiancé, Kevin, has a brother who arrived late. It almost threw the schedule off but it worked out in the end. When the man arrived I found out it was Michael Morrison, the man who’d stolen $250,000 from me less than a week ago.” Marie’s eyes glazed with remembered anger.

  “You didn’t kill him? That shows great restraint on your part,” Hirsch commented.

  “I had help,” she muttered.

  “Speaking of help,” He let her know her grumbled statement had been heard. “The tipster provided proof the two men are one and the same. Did I tell you this tip arrived this morning?”

  “You said something about that, yes.”

  “Did I mention it was sent using a private courier that is extremely expensive?”

  Oh, Bradley, Marie couldn’t help but grin. The man had style. “No, but I have to admire someone who cares about the law that much.”

  “Except to get this information he had to break several laws.”

  Knowing Wit had done the right thing and taken the information to the officials had lightened a weight on her chest she had not known existed until it was gone. “Being the recipient of this good fortune tends to push me towards the means being justified.”

  “Right,” Hirsch ran his hands across his face in a dry washing motion. “I tend to agree. Another question, if I may?” When she didn’t deny him he continued. “Do you know who IGGY is?”

  “Only in the broadest sense,” she replied.

  “It stands for I’m Gonna Get You,” he told her. “A person I’m sure is a mutual friend has been creating IGGY for a long time now.”

  Marie snorted with quick laughter. “That is an awesome name.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Will you tell our mutual friend to call me when he’s anywhere but at home?”

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  “Great. Thank you. And thanks for the coffee and conversation. Any questions for me?”

  “One to start that may branch in to others.” Hirsch braced himself. “When will you be arresting James Brandt?” That had not been the question he had been expecting, Marie noted. She decided that was only fair.

  “With the information you’ve confirmed and everything I have in this folder,” he held it up for a second and dropped it back into his briefcase. “I’ll probably have Brandt in for questioning by the end of the week. The arrest will probably happen around the same time. It should be in the news.”

  “Follow up question: will I have to testify?”

  “Unless he takes a plea deal, yes, probably. Will that be a problem?”

  “Not at all,” Marie answered firmly.

  “It was nice meeting you, Marie,” he told her as he moved toward the door.

  “And you as well, Agent Hirschenbaum.” Marie watched him go and waited a few moments. When she was sure Hirsch wouldn’t be coming back with more questions she called Wit.

  Hirsch left the small apartment confident that his young friend would be in good hands with Marie. He’d had a suspicion the two were involved when she had figured so prominently in the information Wit had provided. After speaking with her he was sure that she was someone important to the younger man. How that played out after the bombing last year would be interesting to watch. He’d keep an eye on it.

  The rental car blended in with the traffic on the street. The two bearded men wearing brand new clothing with creases still at the folds did not though they had given it a half-hearted attempt. Hirsch never saw them.

  The older of the two men was named Henry. He’d been a Brother in good standing from the start and was one of two men with access to everything the Brotherhood offered. His position and power had been cemented years ago. Uncle Henry had been entrusted with this important reconnaissance mission because his track record had been proven again and again since 9/11. It had been Henry who had selected, researched and planned the night club’s destruction six months ago.

  The younger man was a recent addition to the Brotherhood. Brother Jacob had joined less than a year ago and was still in a probationary status. He had not taken part in the last mission and this was his opportunity to prove he was loyal and trustworthy.

  Over the past months the innocent dreams of his youth had slowly disappeared, instead taken over with fantasies of the Holy War where the White Man would come out supreme against those brownies from the desert. His attention to detail and willingness to follow any order had brought him to this day in the sedan, honoured with following the direction of Uncle Henry.

  The car was beginning to smell after the week of surveillance. Henry had considered telling the kid to stop picking up onions on those sandwiches from the deli but he hated to micromanage a job to that extent. Instead he would have to ratchet up the air freshener spray and he’d hope the kid took the hint.

  Henry was beginning to doubt the instinct that had told him to change focus and follow the woman instead of Bradley Witson. The man was predictable, even with his impulsive traveling habits. Henry had lost sight of the young man only once for two days when Wit had been hopping islands for six months. The goal had been to keep him out of town until after the trial. Wit was the only witness that could put Henry’s young minions in prison. The Brotherhood would deal with the forensics. Oh yes, indeed. But that came later in the plan.

  Unfortunately the one time Witson had slipped Henry’s surveillance web had been when he’d flown home. Henry had planned for this possibility, however, and he had stationed several new members outside the building to watch the empty condo. Jacob had been the first to report the sighting and had earned his new role as Henry’s assistant.

  The bugs Henry had placed inside the woman’s apartment had been most helpful already and this time wouldn’t be any different. He couldn’t listen to the conversation live, he’d have to pick up the recording, but he’d bet anything Father Roger would be pleased with whatever information he came up with.

  A tone sounded and the man checked the screen of his phone. Henry read the short message from Father and a grim smile crossed his face. It appeared his plan had been approved. He turned to Brother Jacob.

  “Keep a close watch. Father says when we have an opportunity we are to grab her and bring her to the camp. Father would like to have a few words with her,” he paused a beat before continuing, “he says to use whatever means are necessary.”

  Brother Jacob nodded, his expression as serious as Uncle Henry’s tone. “Yes, sir.” H
e turned his young eye to the door of the apartment building. Henry wasn’t sure if the young man blinked for the next half an hour.

  With a flourish of keys Brad Witson backed out of the company network of Brandt’s firm. After his talk with Dream Kevin he’d realized the man was right. Wit had gone to his home office and immediately started reversing the process that would have blown Brandt’s world to pieces.

  It had been a simple code to write and an easy install with the passwords to which Wit had access. Had Brandt gone to his bank’s website and entered his account number and password the program would have transferred the entire amount to a chef school in Florida. Several publicity emails would have been sent out and there would not have been a graceful way to back out of the donation. It was one of his favourite methods to rain destruction on a target.

  He’d started with the firm’s network as that had been the more difficult target. Still easy with the access IGGY gave him but more difficult none the less. The next step was to go into Brandt’s home network and repeat the reversal process.

  Wit stretched his arms above his head and checked his flashing phone. He listened to the voicemail from Marie with mixed feelings. She’d obviously been startled by being questioned by law enforcement but there was relief there as well. She passed along Hirsch’s message and he had to smile with his own relief.

  The last time he’d talked to Hirsch he had been a month from coming home. Hirsch had flown out to St. Bart’s island for a day to have a man to man talk with someone who no longer felt like much of a man. As they sat on the beach with drinks in coconuts Hirsch had told him specifically that his superiors wanted to know who Zero was. That it was time to stop the nonsense, come home and get back to the real world.

  Wit had tried to explain that this was his real world now. Not having to work for a living opened up possibilities and he wanted to explore them. If he helped bring some justice into this mismanaged world, well what was the problem with that?

  An exasperated Hirsch gave up trying to explain the difference. He wasn’t 100% sure he disagreed with the younger man. Instead he told him to use other methods to report the nefarious deeds he became aware of as he was trolling the internet. Hirsch tried to make it clear his career could be put at jeopardy should Wit continue this current incarnation of the game. That or Hirsch would have to bring in the infamous hacker Zero and try to convince his bosses that a white hat hacker is not such a bad thing to have on one’s side even if the hat was coloured with a hint of grey.

  Wit had sent the two files to Hirsch with great trepidation. He could only hope he had stirred the man’s interest enough to have him buck his superiors one last time. That hope had been affirmed today.

  Wit sent a text to Marie: How about dinner? You can tell me all about it.

  He stretched to the mini-fridge and pulled out an energy drink. While he drank it he kept an eye on the screen showing him Brandt’s home office network. The man should have been at a lunch meeting but addicts never acted in a predictable fashion.

  His phone beeped and he looked at Marie’s answer. On my way to look at office space. I’ll come by after. An hour and a half at the latest.

  That would give him another hour on the Command Center. That was more than enough time to fix Brandt’s network and he moved to his keyboard to finish the task. A visual alarm caught his eye and Wit turned to it. An alert he’d not expected to see from IGGY – he hadn’t been sure it would work – was crawling across all five of his screens.

  DEFCON 2 ALERT… PERSONAL DANGER IS POSSIBLE… DEFCON 2 ALERT… PERSONAL DANGER IS POSSIBLE

  Wit struck a button and messages were sent to Special Agent Marlon Hirschenbaum. The agent’s home and work phones and computers rang simultaneously with notifications for email and text messages.

  His priorities had shifted and Wit quickly finished fixing the mess he had nearly created for James Brandt. When that was completed he looked at the uppermost screen. There were several icons flashing on the screen, most of them with an orange outline. If IGGY had decided he was in a DEFCON 1 Alert Mode the outlines would have been flashing strobe-like with a black outline.

  Wit quickly keyed in the commands and looked at the files IGGY had prioritized. The program was running about two weeks behind real time activity for the Brotherhood, the white supremacist group responsible for the murders of his friends, and it had flagged some recent purchases.

  He didn’t know what they were going to blow up but they had bought enough chemicals to take out a pretty big chunk of New York City. IGGY was crawling through their hard drives, looking for a clue to their plans. Wit wasn’t sure it would find the answer in time. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered.

  Chapter 8

  The city that never sleeps has pockets where there never seems to be activity. The blocks are empty, the buildings appear to be abandoned and people unconsciously swerve to the other side of the street to avoid walking past the eerie alleyway entrances. If a pedestrian had been asked why they had crossed the street they wouldn’t have been able to answer. An uneasy shrug would suffice and they would move on to their next errand. Ten steps in any direction and the activity picked up again.

  Generally these neighbourhoods were in Industrial areas. That led to an attraction all its own for the young people of New York. The abandoned areas were exceptionally busy at night when swarms of partiers would overtake a building for one evening of debauchery. DJ’s would set up turn tables, drug dealers would swoop in with the party cocktails du jour and the air would exude bonhomie and a touch of desperation. The mornings would find trash scattered about, including flyers from the raves, empty and crumpled cellophane baggies, cigarette butts and the bottles from various beers and beverages imbibed the night before.

  Marie had taken three steps before she recognized this block as being unacceptable. She was disappointed with herself for not using one of the many maps available on the internet to examine the area before she sprung for the cab fare.

  Ideally she wanted a relatively busy commercial district. This definitely did not count. Marie wished the storefront with the large front windows hadn’t been leased out. She’d been forced to cancel her deposit after Brandt had robbed her blind.

  She immediately turned to re-enter the cab when she saw it had already left to find a new fare. With a shake of her head she decided to look at the space. Perhaps the area would be going through one of those fabulous renovations that had been happening sporadically. There could be a potential to have charm which could lead to great things. There were too many hypotheticals in this equation but she was here so why not?

  The Realtor had seemed desperate to lease it out and Marie understood why. This would be a difficult sell for anyone except maybe a storage company. She cupped her hands and tried to peer through the dirty window. She couldn’t see through the glare and wiped her hands on a napkin she removed from her purse.

  So much for that, she thought. When she turned to leave the alley she saw two men standing at the mouth. They were staring directly at her. Marie turned to look the other way and saw a dead end. She squared her shoulders and started walking toward the men. She kept her head up and did not make actual eye contact without looking like she was doing so. It was a skill many New Yorkers had perfected.

  As she drew closer small alarms began going off. The men wore new clothes - the fold marks from the packaging were visible - but they looked slept in. Both men wore thick brown boots, working man’s shoes, and there appeared to be dirt clumps flecking from the sides and tread. The young one had a scraggly beard, patchy and apparently itchy as he scraped at his chin with one hand. The older man had dull brown eyes that did not stray from her.

  Marie pulled her purse strap closer to her body and stuck her chin up. She refused to be intimidated by this odd pair. She stepped up her pace and felt sure they would step out of her way when she drew closer. It was the middle of the afternoon, after all, and who would pull off a robbery in the middle of… that’s when Marie not
iced there were no witnesses. The nearest potential assistance was more than a block away. She didn’t think a scream would carry that far or be heard and responded to fast enough to prevent her wallet from being taken.

  She slid her free hand, the hand not clutching her purse strap, into her pocket and removed her set of keys. She angled them so the pointy ends came out between her fingers in her newly clenched fist. Hope for the best but plan for the worst, she thought and continued her steady pace.

  Henry shot a look at Jacob and gave a small nod. They wouldn’t have a better opportunity than this. The woman had essentially delivered herself up to them, a sacrificial goose. When Marie had come within two steps he reached toward her arm.

  “Excuse me, miss, perhaps you could help me. We’re not from around here and we’re a little lost,” his hand clenched down on her forearm and Marie didn’t hesitate.

  “Let go of me,” she hissed and swung the hand holding the keys. She missed the strike toward his eyes when he dodged his head back. Marie’s body swung around. She felt a sudden push at the back of her skull. It pushed her head forward and into the older man’s nose. There was a crack and blood began pouring from the man’s nose. Marie’s eyes rolled and her body went limp.

  Henry looked at the younger man. “That was a little excessive, don’t you think?” His voice had a nasal overtone and he glared at Jacob.

  “Sir, I didn’t want to hit a woman but she was going to hurt you. I went with instinct. I may have hit her a little hard due to that ponytail. That thing sure is thick.” He bent down and placed two fingers at the pulse in her throat. “She’ll be fine, sir. Probably wake up with a headache.”

  “And mad as hell, I’m sure,” Henry replied. “Regardless the job is done and with a minimum of fuss. Not a bad day’s work. Go get the car while I keep her blocked from view.” Henry adjusted his stance and stood over the unconscious woman’s body. He noticed a napkin and a set of keys near her limp hand. He used the napkin to blot at his nose and the keys he put back in her purse. No reason to inconvenience her any further.