At Wit's End

by Lawrence, A. K.

  “Are you Marie Lee Chase?”

  She could hear the loud, chaotic music spilling from his headphones and wondered how he’d know what she answered. “Yes, I am.”

  “These are for you.”

  “Whoa, thank you.” Marie had no idea who would be sending her flowers, especially in the middle of the night. “Please set them down. I’ll pick them up shortly.”

  “They ain’t booby trapped or nothing,” the kid told her petulantly. Apparently he saw that there would be no tip here today.

  “I believe you. All the same. Thank you.” She closed the door and listened to the kid call her a not very nice name before there was a thump from the flowers falling and his footsteps began to recede.

  With a shake of her head – Marie’s Momma didn’t raise a fool – Marie waited for him to board the elevator before bringing the flowers inside. The bright bouquet contained nearly every colour of flower Marie could imagine and some she hadn’t. Though she didn’t know much about flowers she did know when a lot of thought went into a bouquet. These were a prime example.

  She reached through the petals until she found the tiny white card. Her name and address were written on the outside in a feminine hand. The card, however, was barely legible. That or she had double vision from exhaustion.

  Marie closed her eyes tightly, cleared her mind and then looked at the card again, treating it like an ink blot test. Slowly the words became clear. “Thank you for feeding a starving man. Until we meet again. Wit.” She read the card aloud twice before it sank in that the most attractive man she’d ever met had sent her flowers.

  Her heart fluttered and she felt re-energized. She pressed her face into the flowers and breathed deeply as she made her way to the kitchen. She found a crystal vase she’d gotten as a gift from her grandmother and filled it with water. With great care she arranged the bouquet until she’d found the maximum effect.

  She tried several different places and wasn’t satisfied. She set the vase on the side table next to her bed and gently touched a blue petal with her finger. It felt like velvet. With a smile and a sigh Marie started the water in the bathtub, adding a bubble bath she’d created at a little shop. On feet that no longer ached Marie went to the kitchen for that glass of wine.

  The small radio was already set to a light rock station. Marie turned it on and settled into the frothy water. She took a small sip of the crisp wine and finally let herself really think about Wit.

  When he’d first walked into CoffeeBot Marie had been all nerves because of their consultation. Once the truth had come out she’d been angry, confused, worried and any number of emotions. The unexpected lunch invitation and the grocery shopping had kept her on an emotional roller coaster.

  Wit had removed his sunglasses and most of the intimidation she had felt had disappeared. He hadn’t looked well at all and, after hearing what he’d gone though, Marie couldn’t say that was unexpected. She didn’t know if she’d be anywhere near stable if she’d witnessed four of her friends being killed so suddenly and for such a stupid reason.

  While they’d been going through the aisles at the grocery store Wit had seemed to come to life. He’d started making jokes and nearly had her in tears laughing while discussing the wardrobe choices of the other shoppers. She’d felt vague pity when everything he put in his cart qualified as what she called Bachelor Staples: soups, microwave meals and meat to grill.

  He’d taken it well when she’d removed his canned tomatoes and replaced them with fresh. “The sodium count in the canned stuff will kill you. For the same price you can dice your own tomatoes. They’ll taste fresh and your meal will be the better for it.”

  “I’m suspicious but I’ll take your word for it. This one time,” he conceded. After that he’d surreptitiously check her reaction to his items in the cart. When he’d grabbed the gallon of whiskey and her eyes had widened he had immediately put it back. “Habit,” he told her. “It was a rough few months on the islands.”

  “I’m sorry. You know, working out can release some of that tension you’re carrying.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get more exercise today than you think. Cooking is not for weaklings.”

  “Whatever you say, Captain,” he’d shot her an arrogant grin and had started loading the check-out belt.

  Well, he’d learned his lesson, Marie grinned. By the time she’d left him for the evening, having successfully smuggled Susan Collin’s dinner in without her in-laws being aware, he’d been swaying with exhaustion and was in dire need of fresh clothing.

  Marie twirled her toes through the bubbles and realized a solid truth. She wanted to see Brad Witson again and it had nothing to do with revenge against Michael.

  The stop at the flower shop had been an impulse and now Wit felt vaguely idiotic - especially when he thought about what he’d written on the card. He looked over his shoulder and considered going back and cancelling the order but it seemed cruel to take a surprise bouquet away from a woman even if she didn’t know she was receiving them.

  The street was crowded, a fact that did not escape his attention. Wit kept an eye on his surroundings and thought about what he would do for the rest of the night. Though Marie looked ready to fall asleep on her feet when they parted, Wit was feeling exhilarated. This time of night was more like noon than midnight to him. His eyes covered the street in a steady rhythm, always on the watch for suspicious behaviour. Never again would he ignore an instinct.

  There was a convenience store two blocks from his condo. Wit stopped in to load up on energy drinks. After the way Marie had watched him at the grocery store he hadn’t had the heart to buy his usual two cases of the high octane liquids.

  His arm shot out and he looked down to realize he’d grabbed a bag of chips. Huh. He must have been sublimating more of his junk food urges than he’d realized. Wit was accepting of this health flaw. For the most part he lived healthily so a few chips couldn’t hurt, right? He thought about the look of disappointment Marie had occasionally worn at the store. Before he knew it he was putting them back.

  The smell of his own body odour shocked him out of his stupor. Good Lord. He prayed he hadn’t been standing too close to Marie at any point after this stench emerged. He added a shower to his mental to-do list and made his way to the counter with his targeted drinks in hand. He’d given up the chips, hadn’t he?

  Surely the drinks wouldn’t kill him. Wit read through the label while he stood in line, his brow furrowed. He’d never heard of more than half the chemicals on the list and the nutrition value was negligible. Another huh. Then he saw the sign that all was right with the world. The final ingredient, meaning the one it contained the least of, happened to be real fruit juice. Though it didn’t specify which fruit Wit counted it in the plus column.

  Back at the condo Wit drank one can while taking a hot shower. He could feel the energy zipping through his veins, exactly as advertised. It was nice to know you could still trust in some things. He slung a towel around his hips and made his way to his closet. It was amazing the difference soap could make. He hadn’t even realized he’d felt sticky until he’d rinsed off for the second time.

  Wit pulled on comfortable pants and a t-shirt and went to his home office. When he’d first bought the condo he’d had to wait two months before moving in due to some special construction requirements.

  He entered the code into the lock and waited patiently for it to read his thumb as well. When the door opened the lights came on automatically. Wit entered the soundproof room and shut the door behind him. It locked immediately.

  Not only was the room soundproof but it had been reinforced in every way imaginable. It was a panic room, a safe only he could enter, and a fireproof box. There were no windows and only one visible door, the one he’d come through. A hidden panel had been installed leading to a safe room within the safe room.

  He stepped around the spare parts he had lining the wall. Each one had a use and he would
n’t be getting rid of them anytime soon. He also held a sentimental attachment to each box on the floor that encouraged him to constantly find new uses for old equipment such as connecting a server to his television to control media storage. In this day of digital downloads you could never have a server large enough.

  The monitors and motherboards lay lifeless now but someday soon he would pull a Doctor Frankenstein and bring them back to life. He wondered what kind of bidding he would send his new monsters on. The possibilities were nearly endless.

  “Speaking of doing my bidding,” Wit muttered. His main computer hummed at the desk, as always ready to answer his every command. He opened several screens and went through the protocols to enter the Deep Net. He checked his various mail drops and decided nothing there needed his immediate attention. He shut down the main window while remaining connected, rolled up his metaphorical sleeves and went to work on tracking down Michael for Marie.

  First he attempted tracking the phone number she’d given him and figured out what he expected, it was a throw away phone that didn’t require any sort of registration. It didn’t guarantee the guy was smart, only that he’d read a lot of books or watched CSI type television shows.

  Next it was the most basic search for the man’s name. The problem being that Michael Morrison was a very popular name in New York City. He attempted to cross reference the name with the phone number and drew a blank. After that, it was game on.

  When Wit went to work on projects such as this one he preferred loud, obnoxious music most people had never heard of. Thus the reason the room had been soundproofed. He put on an album of electronica, cranked it and dove deep into the Net. It was time to search out some bank accounts.

  While he worked Wit thought about Marie. He’d been intrigued before he’d met her officially and now that he had he found he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Though his brain was focused on the task at hand he could still smell her scent, feel her eyes as they landed on him and the quiet trill of her laughter when he’d gotten flour in his hair.

  The naivety of people generally annoyed him. They left passwords lying around or used easy ones or the same one for every account. He had little patience for people who whined that they had gotten “hacked” when they hadn’t changed a password in a year. Basic internet safety dictated otherwise, something Wit considered common sense.

  He couldn’t blame Marie for what had happened to her, however. Sometimes a person still bumped into an old fashioned con man and that’s what she had done except the guy had used modern tools instead of the old real estate scams or others like it.

  In the bad old days before Wit had put on the white hat he would have given the guy props for the audacity of the plan. Now, however, he wanted to make the guy pay and the price was going to be high. His fingers tapped to the beat of the music as he went in search and, all the while, he thought about the things he was going to do to “Michael”. The guy would never know what hit him.

  Chapter 4

  The attachment came in the morning. Wit read the short email Marie had sent and then opened the file. The picture had been taken near a river in a forest. Bright sunshine gleamed off the water and shot highlights through the blond hair on the man standing with his arm around Marie.

  They wore matching khaki shorts and some sort of canvas shirts, his green, Marie’s a pale blue that made her eyes sparkle. In the corner of the frame Wit could see part of a tent and the man held a fishing pole in a tanned hand which told Wit they’d been on a camping trip. Duh.

  A vague feeling of jealousy stirred. This schmuck had been spending time with an amazing woman and not only had he thrown it away, he’d abused the trust she’d given him. Wit wanted to punch that smirking face.

  Over the past few nights he had been following a rat’s maze of digital paper linked to the bank account numbers Marie had given him. He’d gone through enough energy drinks to have his hands shaking as he reached for a bottle of water but he was sure he’d found the jerk now.

  On the second of the five screens he had a driver’s license photo with which to compare the likeness. With a few clicks of the mouse Wit cropped and enlarged the image and compared the two screens. “Gotcha,” he whispered.

  Wit pushed away from the desk and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the screen with satisfaction. The man known as Michael was blond in the picture with Marie though, apparently, that wasn’t his natural hair colour. In the New Jersey driver’s license photo he had dark hair.

  “Hello, James Alan Brandt, it’s going to be such a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Wit leaned forward and tapped a few keys. The windows closed and he turned his attention to the screens on the right. He had to run a test to ensure the patch he’d used to tie Byte’s code to his own would hold before he’d be ready to officially try his new program. After striking the last key a countdown timer appeared in the lower right corner. It told him he had five hours until the test would be complete.

  Wit stood up from his desk and stretched. He’d been sitting for far too long. His eyeballs were pulsing with the side effects of the energy drinks and if he didn’t get out of this room and do something he was going to have to peel himself off of the ceiling.

  Following an impulse Wit sent a text to Marie. Following your advice, going for a run. Want to join me?

  Her reply came quickly. You read my mind. Meet you at the north entrance?

  K.

  The air felt heavy and grey clouds lay thick across the sky. Weather forecasters had been calling for a thunderstorm through the morning hours and it did seem that fat drops of rain might start falling at any time.

  Normally the park would have been busy with lunchtime picnickers, other joggers and, of course, the occasional drug deal. The lunch carts were out but business was slow today with the vendors already wrapped in ponchos.

  Wit wasn’t afraid of a little rain and apparently Marie wasn’t either. She stretched with enthusiasm, her eyes alight with pleasure. Wit stretched next to her with far less enthusiasm. Sometimes following an impulse could bite you in the butt, he thought.

  “I haven’t gone out for a run in a while. Not a real one,” she told him. “The treadmill in my building’s gym isn’t the same.”

  “There is something about having actual terrain under your feet,” Wit agreed. “Why don’t you lead?” The path was narrow and one of them would have to set the pace.

  Marie started moving toward the path. “How about five miles?” she called over her shoulder.

  Wit merely blinked. “How about seven?”

  Marie laughed. “Three it is,” she agreed and set off.

  The thick humidity weighed Marie’s limbs down and she immediately felt her body warm up and grow loose. She picked a steady pace and veered left when the option arose. This path wound through wooded areas and had actual inclines though Marie wouldn’t count them as hills.

  Sounds of the city crept through the trees and reminded Wit that life always continued on no matter how lost in his own world he might be. Horns honked in traffic and the hydraulic brakes on delivery trucks squealed. People’s voices were raised in conversations on their cell phones creating a low song all its own.

  Wit started out strong. Halfway through their loop he felt his air begin to go. As she ran ahead of him Marie’s ponytail bobbed in a rhythm Wit found distracting and he focused on it, allowing his mind to drift as the curly tail swayed side to side.

  The bench beckoned. Wit could see it when they were a tenth of a mile out. He would have sworn there was a golden glow around it letting him know the glorious feeling of sitting was but a few moments away.

  Sweat dripped into his eyes and he could feel it streaking down his back. He silently cursed the humidity and then accepted the blame. It was no one’s fault but his own that he was out of shape. He looked at Marie and realized she was barely breathing heavier than normal.

  “You make me feel like a slob,” he panted b
ehind her.

  “You look like you’re in better shape than you are,” she commented. “It wouldn’t take much work at all to whip you back into shape.”

  “A whipping is what it’s going to feel like tomorrow.” He slowed his pace and walked several large circles to cool off. A cart caught his eye. “Can I buy you a hotdog? Or ice cream?” he asked hopefully.

  “Did you skip breakfast this morning?”

  “That would assume I woke up this morning. Technically, with the schedule I’ve been keeping, this would be dinner.”

  “In that case, I’d love a hotdog.”

  They sat on the bench with their nitrate enriched lunch. Marie thought nothing had tasted better and, by the look on Wit’s face, he would agree.

  “What have you been working on?” she asked him. A bit of relish fell onto her hand and she wiped it carefully with one of the many napkins they’d taken from the dispenser.

  Wit swallowed a huge bite and washed the dryness of the bun down with water. “Your project, actually.”

  “Oh, really?” Marie had nearly forgotten.

  “I think I found your Michael,” he told her. “Assuming everything works like I expect it to I should have more information for you tomorrow.”

  Marie gaped at him. “That’s amazing. Do you know where he is?”

  “He lives in New Jersey and his name isn’t Michael. It’s James Alan Brandt. And he’s not blond, by the way.”

  “Did you go see him?”

  “No, I found his driver’s license picture online and compared.”

  “That sounds vaguely illegal.”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he promised her. “I would have had this information sooner but I’ve been working on another project that will tie into this one. It will take searching for people online to a whole new level.”

  Marie finished her bun while she thought about what he had said. “It’s pretty easy to enter someone’s name into a search engine and find out way too much about them. Privacy is melting away.”