Page 69 of Witness Security Breach

Tommy killed the engine and opened the back doors. Bill climbed out and dusted himself off.

Going from the slightly sweet, yeasty aroma in the truck to the pungent, briny air at the old docks turned his stomach. This far down the river, there weren’t any tourists taking in the sights. He took a few deep breaths, letting his nose adjust, and faced the warehouse.

He owned the building and the surrounding land under one of his subsidiaries. The property of each of his illicit businesses, the women and drugs, all fell under a different shell company to disguise the ownership from the feds. They couldn’t very well put a place under surveillance and raid it if they didn’t know it belonged to him.

Let them watch the Windfall and Avido’s to their hearts’ content. Didn’t matter to him. They were both legit. But it did make traveling somewhat inconvenient at times such as now.

For the next couple of days, he had to steer clear of his house, the restaurant and the casino. He couldn’t risk going back until he’d taken out his rage on Edgar and got some retribution.

Fortunately, Bill had a feeder coming in tonight with a new bunch of girls. The small container ship didn’t attract as much attention as a larger vessel and it could navigate an older, smaller port. He’d oversee the off-loading of the girls, something Tommy usually took care of, and sleep in one of the passenger cabins once he tired himself out punishing Edgar.

The burner phone they’d used to stay in contact with the hit men from the bayou buzzed in his pocket. A response from those marshals.

It had to be them. They were the only ones in possession of the incriminating information that had been printed, photographed and sent to him. Bill wasn’t sure what to make of them yet.

He’d hoped they would’ve thrown out a figure. Greed he understood, even appreciated. Everyone had a price, and once he’d learned theirs, he could be done with this.

Instead they wanted to trade.

But trade what?

Bill took out the phone and opened the text. For a moment, he was speechless with confusion.

Edgar Plinski. Alive. Unharmed. Plus $1M guarantees no copies of the drive are made.

What in the hell?

Bill read it again, shaking his head in disbelief. What cockamamie planet were these two marshals from? Was this some kind of joke?

Edgar could send him to prison just the same as the information on that flash drive.

Bill furiously typed back.

I need Plinski AND the contents of the drive. Name a new price $.

It took seconds for the phone to chime.

$2M + EDGAR PLINSKI. He’s stayed quiet about you this long. We’ll get him to keep his mouth shut. We need him to clear our names.

Grinding his molars, Bill kicked the truck tire. Another new message flashed. He stared at the screen.

Nonnegotiable!

Bill growled and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

Removing the delivery jacket and hat, Tommy asked, “What do they want, Uncle Bill?”

“The sun and the moon.” They might as well ask for all the stars in the damn sky.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Bill shook his head at the kid. “They want,” he said slowly, “what they can’t have.”

Why couldn’t they ask for new identities? Help getting out of the country. Something reasonable.

Tommy hustled ahead of him, grabbed the door to the cavernous warehouse that was little more than a gutted-out shell and held it open.

Inside, Devlin and his crew were waiting. Along with a handful of Bill’s guys, who’d keep watch over Edgar Plinski, doling out pain every hour on the hour once Bill was finished having his fun and he gave Tommy a go at him.