Page 57 of Down & Dirty: Reaper

“I don’t know. I never have direct contact with them.”

“Who do you have contact with?”

“The initial contact was in an anonymous chat room on the dark web.”

“What’s the name of that chat room?”

“It’s anonymous and doesn’t have a name.” Because it was non-existent. “I’m sent a unique link for every job.”

“What information does the link give you?”

“If you release me, I’ll give you that info.”

The man’s belly jiggled when he chuckled. “Do you really think you’re in a position to negotiate?”

“I’d say I am since I have the information you want.”

“We think we know who your client is, we only want to verify. So, really, we don’t need your info. And because we don’t, it makes you disposable. At this point, it’s your choice whether you want to cooperate and live, or continue to be reluctant and die. No skin off our noses either way. Your choice.”

His choice was to keep providing fake info but he didn’t want to just spill it all too easily. That wouldn’t be believable.

“The link only gets me into the chat room.”

The man sighed. “And then what?”

“I enter the chat room and wait for instructions.”

Oh yeah, he was pushing his luck. He could tell the mobster wasn’t happy with having to play twenty questions.

That made two of them.

“What’s included in those instructions?”

“Just the name of the target in code, GPS coordinates, amount of the bounty, and the deadline.”

“How do you get paid?”

“I pick up the cash at the drop location provided in another link once the job is completed and confirmed.”

“His answers sound too practiced, Sal,” a goon standing off to the side griped.

Well, now Reaper had a name to go with the face. They had photos and names from the don down to the lieutenants posted on the wall in Badass Central. But because the organization had too many low-level soldiers, it was impossible to add them all, so they hadn’t bothered. However, he didn’t remember Sal’s face taped to the whiteboard or his name listed in the encrypted spreadsheet that Indie had created.

It could be that Sal had just arrived from Sicily earlier in the day. Was this guy brought in to figure out who was doing the hits and to plan the revenge?

Quite possibly.

If so, Reaper was talking to the right guy.

Despite having his wrists bound to the chair, Reaper could still shrug, so he did. “Look, Sal, I’m just a working man. Don’t take it personally.”

“Killing our men is pretty fucking personal. What’s your name?”

“What do you need that for?”

“You’re in no position to ask questions.” Sal glanced over at one of the goons and jerked his head. “Check him for an ID.”

They wouldn’t find shit. He never carried any ID on him when doing a job and if he happened to need one, it would be fake. He always left his wallet and dog tags back at the Warehouse.