Page 29 of Blind Prophet

“Are you serious?” My best guess is Nick pissed off a powerful someone. He pissed me off, too, bringing the syndicate into some mafia nonsense.

“You absolute bastard.” Raw fury slices his tone.

“Wait. You genuinely believe I’d put a price on your head? You don’t trust me? After everything?”

“You threatened me.”

“Well, Christ! Yes. I threatened you. You pissed us off. But I wouldn’t…”

I’m about to say I wouldn’t know how to set a bounty, but with one phone call… “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Is that so? And you didn’t convene an alliance meeting recently? A vote?”

“The vote was to excommunicate you. Kick out. Buh-bye. Not burn you at the stake.”

“A drone strike. On my estate. Blasted the place to bits. You really mean to tell me that wasn’t your plan? You have no idea about it?”

He was targeted. Not exactly surprising given he’d been fucking with the Italian mafia for the past two years.

“You survived. That’s the bit I paid attention to. And you’ve been playing the Italian mafia for years. What’d you expect?”

“Denial. That’s what you’re going with?”

“I swear to god, I had no part in it. I can’t believe you’re still going on about this. Think about it. Is a bounty my style?”

When he accused me before, I’d set about learning what I could. Before I learned much, the crisis was over.

The line goes silent.

He has to know that me being the poster is illogical.

“The alliance is far more refined than to sic randoms on you.”

“Refined. Right. Moscow rules and all.”

“If by Moscow you mean your death would appear natural, yes. There’s nothing about a drone strike that’s natural. It’s still in the news, and that’s with you presumably doing damage control.”

Silence.

“Think about it.” I can’t believe I’m having to do his thinking for him. “You’re the king of the hackers.” Nick’s not an active hacker himself, but he owns a few small outfits that do damage.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Did you piss one of them off? Seems more likely to me a pissed hacker would be comfortable enough on the dark web to post a kill. I’ve got people looking into it. I’m told it was exceptional work.”

“You truly didn’t post it? Because I swear, within minutes of our call, the bounty got called off.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Scout.”

“But I’ve always been a friend. Always.”

He grumbles.

“What do your people say? Could they find anything? Any payments? Surely, any mercenary pursuing a bounty would want verification that a payment can be made.” This isn’t rocket science. His people had more time to research while the post was live. Mine are hunting ghosts.

“If you go far enough in the process, there’s verification.”

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