“You work for Isak Vural.”
“I don’t know?—”
I hit him. Nice and simple. The butt of my gun smacks him across the face. He grunts in pain and surprise.
“Try again. We’re just getting started here. You work for Vural.”
“Yes, I do.”
I knew it already. But the confirmation sends a shiver down my spine. “Why are you here? How long have you lived in this place?”
“Months. Because they sent me.”
“How many others are there like you?”
He smirks slightly. “Thousands.”
Bullshit. Definitely not that many. But a dozen? Maybe more? That wouldn’t surprise me.
There are too many implications floating through my head. If Bobby Smith has been here for a while, and there are others just like him, that means Vural’s been slowly invading Philly withoutanyone even realizing. He did it slowly and purposefully. He got his men into position, and now he’s beginning to use them.
My enemy is smart. He’s organized. And above all, he’s dangerous.
“Names. Addresses.” I put a knee into his chest and press my gun into his mouth. “Or I make sure there’s one less enemy to bother my family.”
He mumbles something, and I have to move the barrel away. “Fuck you.”
I hit him a few times. That wasn’t nice, but it also wasn’t a surprise. “Try again.”
“Fuck—You?—”
I crack him hard enough to break a couple teeth. He moans, drooling blood. I stand, backing away, as Frankie descends the stairs with a shake of his head.
“Nobody. Place looks like he lives alone. Not even a girlfriend.”
“You alone in here, Bobby Smith?”
“I’ve got a dozen roommates,” he slurs at me. “And they’re all going to fuck you in the ass.”
“But I found this.” Frankie waves a phone in the air, swipes from the bottom, and turns it on our friend. He’s too slow to stop it from unlocking. “Here we go, numbers and addresses.”
“That’s helpful. You’re organized.”
Bobby Smith looks scared now. “You don’t know anything about us. We’re coming. Isak’s going to burn your houses, rape your wives, kill your children?—”
I shoot him in the face. His blood splatters everywhere as his brain matter turns into hot jelly. Frankie steps away, frowning distastefully, and kicking one nice shoe to dislodge a piece of skull from his toe. “Warn me next time,” he grumbles.
“I didn’t feel like listening to his rant.” I hold my hand out for the phone, and Frankie passes it over.
I quickly copy over his address book and send it to myself. Then I change the passcode to make sure we can get in again. Lucky for us, Bobby Smith’s face remains intact enough to give us access.
“The miracle of modern technology,” I say as I step over his corpse and head out into the night.
I do my best to act like this is no big deal, but Frankie’s got to realize how bad this is. I assumed we were under attack by an outside force that would have to come down from New York periodically if they wanted to hurt us. Instead, Vural’s got fucking sleepers already in the city, waiting to activate.
It’s so much worse than I thought.
They’re not coming. They’re not on the way.
