Escalate by Sigmund Brouwer

Author:Sigmund Brouwer
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459814868
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2017-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

“So this Wyatt Foundation,” Jennie said. “What’s the deal?”

We’d moved to a corner of the large atrium. Less sunshine. Less squinting.

“Deal?”

“It seems like Super Geek found money at the foundation to pay for spray-paint damages. I sure didn’t apply for the funding. Neither did my brother. Super Geek took over.”

“Super Geek?” I said, pretending I had no clue about my alter ego. Sure, I was a bit of a grouch about being part of a team known as Retribution, but I had to admit there was something fun about playing different roles in different situations. Or maybe we all did, one way or another, and this was just an elevated version.

“How else would you describe some nerdy-looking dude who takes out three football players?” she asked in return. “My brother said it happened so quickly it was hard to follow the action. It sounded like the geeky guy gave a quick flex of muscles, and then three of them were out. And he was smaller than any of them.”

“I’m unaware of any of this,” I said. “I just work for the foundation. My paperwork indicates that someone made an application for funds to be applied against a vandalism incident. One condition of successful funding was that the person responsible for the vandalism serve time in community service. I’m going by memory, because the file isn’t in front of me, but I believe it was a Victor Lung. You do not appear to be Victor Lung.”

“Lang,” she said. “Victor Lang. My question is, how do you manage to walk? I mean, the way you talk, it’s like you have some kind of pole inserted up your—”

“You do not appear to be Victor Lang,” I said. “This is a serious abrogation of the funding conditions.”

“Abrogation? You lost me there.”

“Dereliction,” I said. Wow, it was fun talking like a suit. Private-school education has its advantages, I suppose.

“Still lost. Dereliction?”

“Promises were made that haven’t been kept.”

“That I can understand. So how about from here on in, you stick to real words, Junior Wall Street.”

“I will do my best to comply,” I said.

She leaned forward, put a hand on each side of my face and, before I could pull away, planted a deep kiss on my lips.

My flustered reaction as I pushed away was not acting in any sense. The DNA results flashed before my eyes.

She leaned back and studied me with satisfaction. “Just checking to see if you’re human. Seems you are.”

I stood. I walked a tight circle. I returned.

“You are not Victor Lang,” I said. “I need to know why you are here instead of Victor.”

“I’m Jennie. Victor is my little brother,” she said, still smirking. “And you might want to wipe away some of my lipstick before you go to your next appointment.”

“Your brother,” I said, “needs to be accountable for his vandalism. That was a crucial part of the foundation’s decision to pay for the damages.”

“My dad left my mom because she had an affair,” Jennie said. “Ever since then, our family—me, my mom and my brothers—has been a bit messed up.

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