A Knight Of The Word

“This won’t take long,” Wren assured him. “We could sit at one of those tables in the little park right around the comer, if you wish.”


They walked back to the entrance to Waterfall Park and took seats at a table on the upper level where the sound of the falls wasn’t quite so deafening. Ross glanced across the street at the offices of Pass/Go, wondering if anyone had seen him. No, he amended wordlessly, not if anyone had seen him. If the demon had seen him.

He grimaced at his own paranoia. “What can I do for you, Mr. Wren?”

Andrew Wren fumbled With his briefcase. “I’m doing a piece on Simon Lawrence, Mr. Ross. Last night, someone dropped off some documents at my hotel room.” He extracted a sheaf of papers from the case and handed them across the table. I’d like you to take a look.”

Ross took the packet, set it before him, and began to thumb through the pages. Bank accounts, he saw. Transfers of funds, withdrawals and deposits. He frowned. The withdrawals were from Fresh Start and Pass/Go. The deposits were into accounts under Simon Lawrence’s name. And under his.

He glanced up at Andrew Wren in surprise. Wren’s soft face was expressionless. Ross went back to the documents. He worked his way through, then looked up again. “Is this same sort of joke?”

Wren shook his head solemnly. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Ross. At least not the sort anyone is Laughing at. Particularly Simon Lawrence.”

“You’ve shown these to Simon?”

“I have.”

“What did he say?”

“He says he’s never seen them.”

Ross pushed the packet back across the table at Wren. “Well neither have I. I don’t know anything about these accounts other than the fact they’re not mine. What’s going an here?”

Andrew Wren shrugged. “It would appear you and Simon Lawrence have been siphoning finds from the charitable corporations you work for. Have you?

John Ross was so angry he could barely contain himself. “No, Mr. Wren, I have not. Nor has Simon Lawrence, I’m willing to bet. Those signatures are forgeries, every last one of them. Mine looks pretty good, but I know I didn’t sign for any of those transfers. Someone is playing a game, Mr. Wren...”

The minute he said it, he knew. The answer was there in ten foot-high neon lights behind his eyes, flashing.

“Do you have any idea who that someone might be, Mr. Ross?” Andrew Wren asked quietly, folding his hands over the documents, his eyes bright and inquisitive.

Ross stared at him, his mind racing. Of course, he did. It was the demon. The demon was responsible. But, why?

He shook his head. “Offhand, I’d say whoever provided you with the information, Mr. Wren.”

The other man nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve considered that.”

“Someone who doesn’t like Simon Lawrence.”

“Or you.”

Ross nodded. “Perhaps. But I’d say Simon is the more likely target.” He paused. “But you’ve thought this through already, haven’t you, That’s what an investigative reporter does. You’ve already considered all the possibilities. Maybe you’ve even made up your mind.”

Wren grimaced. “No. Mr. Ross, I haven’t done that. It’s too early for making up one’s mind about this mess. I have tried to consider the possibilities. One of those possibilities relies on your analysis that the Wiz is the primary target. But for that to be true, it must also be true that someone is setting him up. That requires a motive. You seem to have a rather good one. If you were looking for a way to protect yourself in the event your own theft was discovered, salting an account or two in Simon Lawrence’s name might just do the trick.”

Ross thought it through. “Oh, I get it. I steal a little for me, a little for him, then claim it was a his idea if I get caught. That gets me a reduced sentence, maybe even immunity.”

“It’s happened before.”

“You know something, Mr. Wren?” Ross looked off at the waterfall for a minute, then back again. His eyes were hard and felled with a rage he could no longer disguise. “I’m just about as mad as I’ve ever been in my life. I love my work with Fresh Start. I would never do anything to jeopardize that. Nor would I do anything to jeopardize a program I strongly believe in and support. I’ve never stolen a penny in my life. Frankly, I don’t care much about money. I’ve never had it, and I’ve never missed it. Nothing’s happened to change that.”

He rose, stiff-legged and seething. “So you go right ahead and do what you have to do. But let me tell you something. If you don’t find out who’s behind this, I will. That’s a promise, Mr. Wren. I will.”

“Mr. Ross?” Andrew Wren stood up with him. “Could you just give me another minute? Mr. Ross?”

But John Ross was already walking away.