Today’s
excerpt is from Baghdad Butcher, Book #1 of the nine-book Janitors Series. Having gotten the attention of the mob
lawyer, Jim is ready to question him. Enjoy
and have a fantastic day.
m.j.
Leaving Hector
behind, Jim and Holly went into Wallace Greenberg’s office building. Using the phony names Holly had given
Greenberg, and he gave the night guard, they signed in and took the elevator up
to Greenberg’s floor. They found his
office and went in. There was only one
dim light on in the outer office, but an open door, with bright light shining,
led them to Greenberg’s inner office.
As they reached
the door, Jim held his hand back to stall Holly, and entered the office with
the silenced Walther drawn. Greenberg
was a heavyset man with a receding hairline.
His office was opulent and one wall was covered almost entirely in
mirror. Upon seeing the gun, he started
to say something, but Jim interrupted him.
“Up, fatso. Don’t say anything
until I tell you to. Just walk around
your desk and sit down in front of it.”
Greenberg, sweat
starting to bead on his head, stood, glanced at the mirror, and did as he was
told. When he was sitting down on the
floor in front of his desk, Jim growled, “Okay, here’s the drill. I’m going to ask you some questions. You are going to give me some correct
answers, and we’ll go on from there.
First question, those three drug dealers that you represent who got all
shot up…who set up the retainer for them?”
Greenberg
swallowed, glanced at the mirror. “I
can’t tell you that. That’s privileged
information.”
“You see this
gun?”
“Yes.”
“With this gun,
I am going to blow your kneecap off…for starters. Do you understand?”
Greenberg looked
at the gun, at Jim’s set jaw, and had no doubt whatsoever that doing anything
other than what this man wanted would result in death…or worse. “Yes.
Mr. Gomez, one of the men who was so viciously shot, came into my office
some six or eight months ago and placed a large retainer with me.”
“How much?”
Greenberg
thought about lying, but changed his mind.
He again glanced at the mirror. “Half
a million. Cash.”
Jim had noticed
the third glance at the mirror and, on a hunch, turned partway to it and fired
three silenced shots. The mirror came
crashing down to reveal a video camera and an open cabinet with several videos
stored in it. Looking back at Greenberg,
he shook his head. “You’re a very
naughty boy.”
Jim walked over
to the video camera, sure that Greenberg would make no move. When he got to the machine, he turned it off
and pulled out the tape. Then he put the
tape in a VCR and watched as the TV screen near it began showing his entrance
and all that had happened up until the time he turned off the machine.
To satisfy his
curiosity—and to verify that the library of tapes was what he thought it was—he
pulled one of the tapes at random and put it into the VCR. Turning up the sound a bit, he heard and saw
one very notorious gangster in conference with Greenberg. During the course of the conversation, the
gangster made several very incriminating statements, sometimes at the urging of
Greenberg.
Jim hit the
‘stop’ button, and smiled as he turned around.
“Oh, you are a very, very naughty boy. But I will say this for your little set-up…it
sure is going to make dealing with you a good deal easier.”
Sweat now
running down his face, Greenberg asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean that
when I leave here tonight, these tapes are going with me. And everyone on them will get a copy of his
portion of the tapes within twenty-four hours.
But before that happens, you are going to tell me everything I want to
know, and tell me promptly. You will
have a very hard time running far with your knee caps blown off.”
Greenberg just
sagged, knowing he was a beaten man, that he was going to do exactly as told,
and would answer all questions accurately and honestly. “I’ll do anything you say—just don’t release
those tapes, please.”
“You
weren’t listening. The tapes will
be released, no matter what you do.”
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