At Wit's End

by Lawrence, A. K.

  Marie grabbed his shoulder and whispered “The one on the left is Brother Jacob.” He felt her shiver. “He was the one who knocked me out.”

  Wit looked at the young man. “Jacob? Are we going to have a problem here?”

  “No, no problems,” his Adams apple bobbed at the tone in Wit’s voice. Something flashed at the end of the stick he held in his left hand.

  “What was that? Wit asked.

  “This is a cattle prod,” the young man replied. The end flashed a blue fire once more. “This is how I know we won’t have any problems. Uncle Henry said I had to give you two a choice before I used it. Walk ahead of us and keep your hands where I can see them. You’ll have a talk with Father Roger and no one will get hurt.”

  “Or?” Wit inquired.

  “Or I zap you and let the lady watch you piss yourself.”

  Wit nodded. “In that case,” he held his arm out to Marie, “shall we go for a stroll?”

  She glared at him but stood strong, as he knew she would. “You’re a little jerk, Jacob. Let’s go.” She turned and strode purposefully down the trail.

  “Hey, what’s in that building anyway?” Wit asked Jacob over his shoulder.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Jacob told him. “Get moving.” He waved the stick menacingly.

  Wit decided to test him. “Why don’t we talk about this? I’m rich; I can give you anything you want. All you have to do is give us a three minute head start. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

  Wit woke up on a hard cot and looked around the room groggily. “What happened?”

  Marie rushed over and hugged him. “Jacob hit you with that stick. You went straight as a board and then hit the ground. I thought you were dead.”

  Wit shook his head. It ached nearly as much as his body. He should stop making impulsive decisions. “Where are we?”

  “We’re back inside. This is a different room than the one they kept me in before. I already checked and the windows and walls are a lot sturdier.”

  “Are we locked in?” Marie gave him an exasperated glance. “Sorry, stupid question.” Wit rose and paced around the room to stretch his throbbing muscles. “I don’t suppose you have a plan?”

  Marie shook her head. “Not yet. We haven’t been in here long. I think Jacob went to get Roger Ingerhoffe.”

  Wit stared at the blank wall before him. “Well, shit.”

  “That’s what I said,” Marie told him.

  Chapter 11

  FBI Agent Marlon Hirschenbaum knelt in the thick underbrush several yards from the large outbuilding. He watched the scene unfold and cursed his luck. They’d been so close to getting away from this place without having to engage the militia.

  Bright lights flickered on and pinned Marie and Wit against the wall. Hirsch noted with pride that Wit had protected Marie. He couldn’t hear what was being said and he didn’t want to risk moving in close. Eventually the men lowered their lights and Hirsch could see Wit scanning the forest in his direction. It was subtle and he may only have seen it because he wanted to but he went with the feeling.

  He angled the NVGs and let a beam of light strike off the front glass. Wit’s posture changed, he seemed to become more relaxed. The men began leading the couple down the trail and back towards the main building. Hirsch followed from a safe distance and stayed to the right of the trail.

  He winced when the man struck Wit with the stick. It looked to be a Taser. Hirsch had been hit with one of those before and he knew how badly it hurt and would continue to the next day. Two of the men dragged Wit between them.

  At the edge of the trees Hirsch was forced to stop. The spotlights still shone across the lawn and he didn’t want to be seen. He had an appointment with the Hostage Rescue Team and it was time to start moving in that direction if he wanted to be on time.

  Hirsch slid deep into the trees. Using a compass he navigated his way to the Lamborghini without having to use main trails. He hadn’t seen any sentries but that didn’t mean there weren’t any around. He waited patiently and rehearsed his answers until he saw headlights strobe through the woods.

  When the sedan stopped he walked to it and stuck out his hand. “Sir, thank you for coming.”

  SAC Anderson glared at his troublesome agent. He slammed the door and ignored the outstretched hand. “You have a confidential informant from New York City who found themself kidnapped and brought to the woods of Delaware? Is that my understanding?”

  Hirsch swallowed heavily. “Yes, sir. The situation has changed since we last spoke.”

  “How so?”

  “Two of my informants are now being held against their will.”

  “I see,” SAC Anderson said while doing nothing of the sort. “Do you know their demands?”

  “I don’t believe it’s that kind of kidnap situation, sir. There most likely won’t be a ransom call,” he told the older man.

  “There’s always a ransom of some sort. Who are these people that are holding your informants?”

  Hirsch clearly remembered explaining this on the phone. He quickly ran through the facts he had, from the file he’d received to the recent events at the shed, and managed to do so without his aggravation coming through. Time was not on their side, not when Wit was acting like a wild card.

  SAC Anderson nodded his head thoughtfully. “We have a plan prepared to take the building. After Waco it was agreed there would not be stand-offs with religious cults. This is a cult, is it not, Agent Hirschenbaum?”

  “As close to one as I’ve ever seen,” Hirsch lied enthusiastically.

  “That’s fine then. We’re waiting on the Team and then we’ll green light the operation.” SAC Anderson turned toward his car, stopped and turned back to Hirsch. “I have one last thing before I give that green light.”

  “What can I help you with, sir?”

  “This is a two part question, agent. Is one of the informants being held your friend Zero? And if yes, are you prepared to share his real name with me?” The man’s steely stare locked Hirsch in place. There would be no escaping this one without an answer.

  Hirsch hesitated and then gave a half nod. It was enough. SAC Anderson nodded back and slid into the sedan.

  This time the room had an actual bed in it. Wit had woken up on it but Marie could tell it had been neatly made recently. Aside from the dirt and dust shedding from their bodies the room was immaculate.

  “I think this is someone’s room,” she said to Wit. He was standing at the window and appeared to be scraping at it with his fingernail. “What are you doing?”

  “I think these windows have been blacked out. We may have seriously underestimated the number of people in this group.” Wit rubbed his hands together and noticed the black smudges. “What is this stuff? It’s all over both of us.”

  Marie looked at her hands. “I used the ash and soot from the fireplace in the first room to darken my skin and clothing. When I started putting it on I had been sweating from breaking the boards over the window and it became a thick paste.”

  The intelligence and bravery of this woman floored him. Wit quickly crossed the room and thrust his hands into the thick mass of hair she wore bound. He pulled the band out and used his fingers to comb the curls. Dust flew and they both sneezed.

  Wit grinned at Marie, met her eye and leaned in for a kiss that heated her from nose to toes. Her veins sang with the thrill of energy and she deepened the contact. She raised her leg to wrap her calf around his and dragged her hands down his chest.

  She clutched at his waist to pull him closer. A groan rose from her throat. She tilted her head back and kept her eyelids at half-mast. “This is most definitely not the place for this conversation.”

  Wit’s hands were on her ass. He squeezed one more time and reluctantly let go. A glance at his watch told him they would need to stall for at least another hour. That would be the earliest Hirsch would have been able to call for back-up when Wit had released his cell phone signal.

  Held
in the cage of his arms Marie couldn’t help but nibble at his chin. He closed his eyes and struggled to maintain control. “Do you feel like cuddling?” he murmured against her earlobe.

  Her lips curved. “You’re so cavalier about this. I wish I knew how you did that.”

  He stepped back and sat on the bed. He patted the spot next to him. “Why don’t we sit down for a few minutes?”

  “Is this your way of getting me to cuddle?” she quipped. When he didn’t respond in kind she sat next to him and laid her hand on his thigh. She squeezed lightly and waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts.

  “I learned the hard way exactly what this group is capable of doing. I can speak from experience when I say they have no qualms about killing innocent people. Every single person in that bar was an innocent person,” he said.

  “If you’re trying to remind me this isn’t a joke there’s no need. I’m scared out of my mind, Bradley,” she confessed.

  “You hide it well,” he told her. Wit stretched his arm across her shoulders and pulled her closer to his side. He rubbed her bicep and she tilted her head onto his shoulder. “If they were going to kill us they would have already. They’ve had dozens of chances in the past week alone.” He felt Marie nod against his neck. “Besides, we have a Plan B. You may have forgotten.”

  “That’s right, you said Hirsch was here. I never saw him.”

  “He was out in the woods. He saw them bring us here. The smart guy thought to shine a light off of a lens of glass so I would know he was there. I’m surrounded by brilliance.”

  “Like comes to like, I suppose,” she kissed the side of his neck and rose. “I don’t know about you but I’m ready to turn that bathroom into a stinky disaster zone. I’m not comfortable using the tub or shower but we can use washcloths and towels. And I can speak from experience when I say they have amazing water heaters.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  “Before we do that, however, there’s something I want to do.” Marie picked up the sturdy wooden chair that had sat at the desk. She wedged it under the doorknob. “If they are going to lock us in then I feel totally justified in locking them out.”

  Wit laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that, nicely done!” As he had in the woods Wit held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  “But of course.”

  The knock on the door brought Roger Ingerhoffe’s attention from the legal pad he’d been studying. He jotted a note at the bottom and bade the visitor enter. As the door opened he flipped the pad face down.

  “Brother Jacob, do you have news for me?” he asked. The young man was standing at attention and kept his stare straight ahead.

  “Sir, I do. We found Ms Chase and Mr Witson when they were at the shed. I placed them in a room as you requested.”

  “By the shed you say? Did they see inside?”

  Jacob shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t believe they had been there long when we came across them. Sir.”

  “Very well then. Continue the patrols, please, Jacob. I doubt Mr Witson came alone.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jacob saluted smartly and left the room.

  Ingerhoffe stifled a sigh. The formality and regiment of the militia was required to ensure his control but it was tiresome. He wished someone would tell him “Hell yes we took care of that, Rog, you know it!” instead of all the “Sir, yes sirs” he received on a daily basis.

  “I should be on those patrols,” Henry spoke up. He was sitting across the desk from Ingerhoffe and staring into his drink.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Ingerhoffe responded. “Marcus, have any sensors gone off since that first one?”

  Marcus looked up distractedly from the laptop he was balancing precariously on his bony thighs. “No. I activated the cameras at the front gates. I know you don’t like using the Closed Circuit system but it’s necessary. If the FBI is coming I need the warning to wash this hard drive. There’s too much information on it to have it land in their hands.”

  Ingerhoffe stifled a sigh. He asked so few things of his people. Marcus wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t needed so he’d allow it. “Are you still in Witson’s computer?” he asked.

  “As much of it as I can be, yes,” Marcus replied. There’s this huge chunk I can’t access. It’s starting to frustrate me.”

  “Would talking to Witson help?”

  The hacker’s eyes lit. “He won’t tell me anything.”

  “Not if you ask. Go in there and gloat some. He’s likely to let something slip.”

  Marcus thought about the suggestion. It seemed as good of an idea as any others he’d had. He nodded.

  “Excellent. I’ll go in first and chat with the young couple. You come on in whenever you feel ready.” He waited for another nod from Marcus and stood up. “This is going to be interesting,” he mused.

  Some people are born to argue; a select few are born to win. Bradley Witson was one of the latter. Marie found herself cuddling with him on the narrow bed. Her head lay cradled on his shoulder and she had a leg thrown over one of his. She was tracing lazy figure 8’s on his chest and wondering how she felt so comfortable and safe at this moment in time when she should be anything but.

  “What’s so funny?” She’d felt his chuckle as much as she’d heard it.

  “It looks like we dusted the entire room for fingerprints with black powder,” he laughed.

  Marie snorted. As she had brushed and shaken ash from her hair and clothes it had dried into a fine dust. Any movement set off a tiny tornado and further coated the room. “It serves them right for locking me in that room. If they didn’t want me using the ash they should have done a better job of cleaning.”

  “I’ll be sure to suggest that so they’re aware next time,” he chuckled again.

  She slid her hand up the front of his shirt and began tracing new patterns with her fingernails. Marie enjoyed the contrast between his soft skin and the smattering of hairs across his chest. “I can’t believe we’re laying here this relaxed.”

  “What would pacing around accomplish besides getting the dust everywhere? No, what I can’t believe is they never searched me.”

  “The only thing they took from me was my phone. I’m pretty pissed they broke it. What did you smuggle in?”

  “A couple of useful things. One of them is digging into my leg right now. Do you mind?” Marie shifted away and Wit removed the small rectangular box from his pocket.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s half a cell phone.”

  “What?”

  Wit laughed at the confused look on her face. “I broke down a cell phone into the two main components, transmitter and receiver. This one doesn’t have a speaker; it’s only a microphone and a very sensitive one at that. I gave the other half to Hirsch. His doesn’t have a microphone, only a speaker. When I push this button,” he pointed at it,” the box uses a satellite signal to connect to its counterpart. The signal can’t be cloned or jammed and it can only connect to the box that it is tied into. I call them the Twins.”

  “Did you bring anything else?”

  Wit was about to answer when they heard someone unlocking the door. The handle turned but the door couldn’t be opened. Marie had left the chair wedged under the doorknob. They heard a grumble of sorts and then a light knock.

  Before he opened the door Wit pushed the button on the side of the transmitter and hid it on a windowsill behind a curtain. He removed the chair from its sentry position and swept the door open. With a swoop of his arm he offered entrance. ”Gentlemen, please come in.”

  This was Wit’s first chance to see his nemesis in person and he took his time examining Roger Ingerhoffe. The man was completely normal looking in every way yet he was responsible for at least one act of violence that had killed numerous people. He probably had another nefarious plan and yet he looked like a man who could have been a favourite uncle.

  “Mr Witson, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The man had the gall to offer a handshake
. Wit ignored the proffered hand and chose not to say anything. “Very well then.” Ingerhoffe nodded. He gestured to the man standing over his shoulder. “This is Henry.”

  “Now that we’re all friends,” Wit moved closer to Marie, “perhaps you’d loan me a car? Marie and I will head on home and no one will be the wiser.”

  Ingerhoffe shook his head ruefully. “I’m sure you have a car nearby. I find it highly unlikely you flew here though you do have those resources available if you chose to use them. No, I think your car is parked on a logging trail I believed had been closed off. That will be rectified in the morning. Don’t worry,” he said at Wit’s startled look, “we’ll get your Lamborghini turned around and parked in a garage somewhere safe. It’s the least a good Christian could do.”

  “No,” Wit said angrily, “the least a good Christian could do would be to merely stand there as Marie and I walked out the front door. A good Christian,” he said with sarcasm, “would never have held us against our wills.”

  “Ah, but it was you who had locked the door. How do you know you couldn’t have left at any time?” he asked innocently.

  Marie piped up from her seat on the bed. “I checked it. Hello? Remember me? You already locked me in one room.”

  “Fair enough,” Roger Ingerhoffe said. “Merrily, it is most pleasant to have you back in my company.”

  “Why do you keep saying my name like that?” But Ingerhoffe was gone. Marie couldn’t see an iota of awareness in his posture until he suddenly straightened and hummed that line from Row Your Boat once more. She shared a look with Wit and shrugged.

  Wit slid two steps to his right. He was now standing directly between the two men and Marie. His hands were behind his back and she caught a small movement. A silver square dropped onto the bed next to her. Marie swept her hand out and picked it up.

  One glance told her nothing was written on it. Wit made a pinching motion with his fingers until Marie understood. She’d have to squeeze when Wit gave her the sign. What sign she didn’t know; she could only hope she’d recognize one when she saw it.