“It may not seem like it to you, but I’m a busy man.”
“I know that, sir. I won’t take much of your time.”
“Where did you get the message?”
I felt like I was on the witness stand. Witt’s piercing presence was akin to that of the erudite Perry Mason, his very demeanour caused the most callous criminal to break down in the trial scene at the end of every episode. I considered coming clean and telling Witt was happening, but I had a pretty good idea that he’d just as soon spend an evening bowling and eating chilli dogs as hand over the box Malloy had sent him. Besides, even if Malloy had trusted Witt, I had no reason to.
Nonetheless, the box would be safer with me or Fitzpatrick. It was just a matter of time before the NSA tracked down Witt and pried the box from his rigour-mortised hand. Rationalisation is a way of life.
“Ever since I took your class at the University, I’ve been a big fan. I read somewhere that you do anagrams, so I was playing around the title of your latest book which, by the way, I’ve really enjoyed. I thought that sending you an anagram message might interest you enough to see me.”
Witt looked at me like the liar I was. I’d gone from really nervous to downright panicky when he finally spoke. “What’s your name?”
“Murphy. Jake Murphy.”
“Do you believe in coincidence, Mr Murphy?”
The question caught me off guard. “Uh… sure. As a matter of fact, one time I’d just come out of the supermarket with a gallon of sherbet — “
“I don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“You say you’re a student of mine?”
“When?”
“Let me see… it would have been fall quarter, 2027.”
“You know, Murphy, I never forget a face, and I don’t remember yours.”
My heart started pounding, causing my eyes to bulge and my face to slowly turn red. “Well, I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I cut class quite a bit back then.”
Witt took a step toward me, a stream of pipe smoke trailing over his right shoulder. “I don’t believe you Mr Murphy — or whatever your real name is.” he moved another step closer. I tried to stand my ground and keep up my increasingly shabby pretence, but his unrelenting stare was becoming painful. “Who are you really? Come clean with me, boy.”
“I, uh… well, I — “
“Let me guess. Journalist, right? Sent up here to do a story on that odd fellow Elijah Witt. Is that it? My God, you people won’t take no for an answer.”
I hung my head in faint resignation as a sudden wave of relief swept over me. Witt had had me on the ropes, but now he’d dropped his left. All I had to do was throw a subtle right cross. I lifted my head and gave Witt my best “caught-with-my-hand-in-the-cookie-jar” expression. “I didn’t want to come, Mr Witt, I swear. It’s just that I’m the new kid down at the paper, and they always stick me with the rotten assignments. Three months ago they sent me off to Oakland to do a story on the gang wars. I didn’t get out of intensive care for three weeks.”
For the first time, Witt smiled around his pipe stem. If there was one thing I was good at, it was sounding pathetic. “What’s your name, son?”
“It’s Murphy, actually.”
“Who sent you up here?”
“Pernell. Lucas Pernell. The rotten bastard.”
Witt’s expression shifted from amused to thoughtful. “Purnell, eh? You work for the Bay City Mirror?”
“Yes sir.”
“Pernell’s good. He’s one of the primary reasons I get the paper sent up here. Done some damn fine investigative reporting. If he’d come up himself, I might even give him an interview.”
“Actually, he didn’t ask me to get an interview.”
Witt ignored my comment as he clenched his teeth on to the stem of his pipe and reflected for a moment. “Tell you what, why don’t you get him on the phone, and we’ll set up a time when I can meet with Mr Pernell.”
“Well, I don’t know if — “
“The phone’s over there, son.” he pointed to a nearby desk. I hesitated. My good fortune was making a sharp U-turn. If I called Pernell, my whole charade might be exposed.
“See, the thing is, Pernell wants me to do a story on UFO sightings, and he said that you had the best collection of source material on the subject.”
Witt was adamant. “You can help yourself to what I’ve got, but first let’s get Pernell on the horn. Go on.” he waved me toward the phone, his air that of a man accustomed to rapid and thorough obedience. I dug through my pockets to find Pernell’s number.
“What’s the problem? Can’t remember the number?”
“Like I said, I’m the new guy at the Mirror. Plus my short-term memory is shot. I can’t remember what I had for breakfast.” I turned back. “This is a long-distance call, you know.”
“Good God, son, you want me to help you make the call?”
I found Pernell’s business card and punched in the code. After several beeps, Pernell’s face materialised on the screen. I could hear Witt walking up behind me. “What’s going on, Murphy? Got something new for me?”
“Listen, Pernell, I’m here with Elijah Witt. Just like you told me. Except he wants you to do the interview.” I could have been speaking Swahili as far as Pernell was concerned. His face looked like a nun had just sworn at him.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Witt was now looking over my shoulder. My armpits were passing from the clamminess stage straight into outright dampness. “Remember? You sent me up here to see if Witt would let me look through his library for source material on the UFO story I’m writing down at the Mirror.”
Pernell gave me a blindingly vacant stare. My left eye was winking like a strobe light. After a lengthy pause, the journalist finally caught up. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Slipped my mind. I’ve been real busy with the NSA story. You do have that additional information for me, don’t you? You know, the stuff we discussed at the Twilight?”
The bastard had me over a barrel, and he wasn’t about to do me a favour gratis. But I wasn’t in a position to barter. “Yeah I’ve got it. I’ll send a copy to you as soon as I can get free.”
Pernell smiled and leaned back in his seat. “So what’s the situation?”
Witt pushed me aside and stepped up to the vid-phone. “Good to meet you, Mr Pernell.”
“Likewise.”
“I understand you’d like to set up an interview with me.”
“Well, I know you’re busy man.”
“I’ll make time to meet with you. I’ve been an admirer of your work for some time.”
Pernell’s smile widened. “Well, that’s just fine. When’s a good time for you?”
“Anytime between now and the end of the month.”
Pernell flipped through a date book on his desk. “Tell you what, why don’t you let me check through my schedule, and I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, I’d take it as a great personal favour if you’d do what you can take care of my assistant.”
“Certainly. Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Pernell.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. See you soon, Murphy.”
My shirt was a little damp, but somehow I’d survived unscathed. Witt led me from the foyer down a long hallway and through a massive set of open doors. The library was a vast, octagonally shaped room with a high, domed ceiling and bookshelves stretching up as far as the eye could see. Some of the sliding ladders were so tall, I was surprised that Witt didn’t ask me to sign a no-fault waiver in the event of a back-breaking fall. There had to be ten thousand volumes in the room, none of which I had the slightest interest in browsing through. I don’t know what had made me think of asking for access to source materials, but it had seemed brilliant at the time. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do now.