Free Henry Wood Perception by Brian D. Meeks Page B

him directly. I'll wait.”
    She couldn’t place the accent, but he didn’t look like most of the guys who made deliveries.
    The typewriter tune started up again.
    Thirty minutes later, the accountants left with ashen faces clutching their ledgers below their arms. The one who had wanted to catch Amy’s eye, made no attempt now but instead kept his head down and rushed out.
    Amy motioned for the messenger to go ahead. He didn’t say anything when handing the envelope to Mr. Kerwin. She saw that he gave the guy a twenty. It seemed excessive.
    Mr. Kerwin said, “Amy, I need you to cancel my dinner plans with my wife tonight. Tell her I have an unexpected meeting. Then get Smith from purchasing up here.”
    She stopped typing, made a note on her pad, and called over to purchasing. She missed Mr. Kupton.
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
     
     
    Gilbert Iverson sat with his back to his desk. The sun was zipping in and out from behind the clouds. It looked warm outside. He wasn’t daydreaming, though. The reports on his desk had gotten thinner over the last two days. Patek Philippe's finest creations had nothing on his internal clock’s precision. Gilbert liked routine and read four reports before lunch and four after, with any additional reports being finished that night. Barely past noon, he wasn’t even hungry yet, and he was through all of April 12.
    Most of the chatter was useless noise. On occasion he found a small thread of something important. These moments made his job a joy. He got up and walked out to the bullpen.
    Each analyst was assigned with the task of cataloging certain calls. They marked down date and time, listened for any key words, and recorded those, too. It was a noisy room usually, and Gilbert avoided it. Today, three analysts worked on the New York Times crossword, one read a book, and the others seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. When they noticed Gilbert, everyone attempted to look busy.
    “Been a little quiet today?” Gilbert asked the one on the corner desk.
    “Only one call, at nine am, for three minutes. The conversation was about donuts. I don’t think it was code.”
    “Probably not.”
    There were always lulls. He hated them. This seemed different, though. Gilbert knocked on Dewey’s office door.
    "Come in."
    “The chatter is down again.”
    Dewey never ran out of work. He looked up from his stack of financial reports and said, “Oh? By how much?”
    “Nearly zero across the board. You think they made us?”
    “Either that or they're getting close to making a move and are being extra cautious.”
    “Even the broker, Darby, doesn’t seem to be talking, and he talks all freaking day.”
    Dewey stood up and pulled a piece of paper out of a file. Handing it to Gilbert, he said, “Jack’s report, from this morning, is a little more interesting than usual. He just dropped it off before he headed home for some sleep. I'm sure he hated writing it.”
     
    Subject: Henry Wood
    April 13, 1955
    Subject arrived early, had one visitor before office hours. Alan Finnegan, carrying his bag, presumably swept the office for bugs. Subject remained in office for rest of morning. Secretary, Celine, arrived at normal time of 9:00, carrying a box that was likely donuts.
    End Noon
     
    Gilbert smiled and asked, “Shall I call and gloat now, or wait until he comes in tonight?”
    “Let him sleep. When he gets in you can have your fun. Have him bug Mr. Wood’s office tonight.”
    “You think we should include the phone?”
    “I think that if he is worried about bugs he would notice the phone, so just do the two rooms. Have we gotten the reports on his secretary?”
    “Yes, I read it this morning...nothing much there. Good background info, though. It may be handy if we need to use her."
    “You think we should put someone in place now, get close to her?”
    “Who are you thinking?” Gilbert said, knowing the answer.
    “You know who. Jack is the man for the job. Say what you will about