Page 45 of Reaper
Dangling a skinny banker off an office rooftop by his ankles isn’t my idea of a fun way to spend an evening, but I’m willing to bet a whole lot of Luke’s riches that it was even less entertaining for the banker.At least, that was my guess based on all the screaming, crying, and pants-wetting.
I’m used to dealing with a sterner class of criminal, I guess.I don’t think I’ve ever met a demon who wet himself at the threat of death.Admittedly, they all just go back to Hell when they’re banished from this plane or their meat suit is killed, so they don’t have much to fear.Except Lucifer’s annoyance, and I can state from experience that he’s pretty goddamned scary.
So I was less than pleased when I got a face full of the acrid scent of urine emanating from the crotch of the banker I held some forty-odd stories above the pavement.“Stop pissing,” I said.
“I c-can’t help it,” Piss Boy said.“I-I-I’m scared!”Piss Boy’s real name was Jameson Stoller, which should be the name of a spy, or international arms dealer, or at the very least a hedge fund bro, not a mid-level finance nerd covered in his own piss.But this is the world we live in.
“Were you scared when you moved a couple million dollars around every week for an underground fight club?Were you scared when you helped those assholes launder their money?Money they earned off the blood of innocent men and women?Were you scared then?”I gave him a little shake for emphasis.He was in no danger of falling, not that he knew that.The scrawny fucker probably didn’t weigh a buck-sixty soaking wet, which he now kinda was.But since the piss was flowing up his torso on account of him dangling upside down, my grip was secure.I could hold him up there for hours, not that I thought I’d need to.
“Fuck, yeah, I was scared!”he screeched.“Have you met those guys?They’re fucking terrifying!”
“More terrifying than me?”I pulled his leg up higher so he could see the grim look on my face.And to create a little distance between my nose and his piss-soaked middle.
“Not right at this moment, no,” he admitted.“Please put me down and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Put you down?”I asked, letting a wicked smile dance across my face.“How far down?”I faked like I was going to drop him, and a whole new stink blossomed from his pants.This guy was going to have to replace every stitch he had on before he drove home.Oh well, he shoulda worn his brown pants today, I guess.
“Not like that!”he screamed, and I took pity on him, tossing him back onto the roof.He crumpled to the tarred black surface, weeping, pissing, and shitting all at the same time.It would have been pitiful if he hadn’t been helping a bunch of murderous assholes run an underground fight ring that was set up so there were never any winners.But since he was, I was all out of pity.
“Talk, fuckwit,” I growled.
“What do you want to know?”
“Names, addresses, anything that can help me find these dickheads and put them out of business permanently.”
“I don’t know any of that stuff.We did everything via email.I never even went to a fight!”he said, tears and snot covering his face.Better than what was covering a lot of the rest of him, I guessed.
“We’ve got your emails, shithead.That’s how I found you.Now I need the stuff you didn’t put in writing.There were at least half a dozen phone calls every week to a prepaid cell phone.I’m guessing that was your connection to the fights?”
“Yeah, that’s how I called in, and how I placed my bets.”
I paused, confused.“Wait a minute.You said you never went to the fights?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how did you know who to bet on?”I asked.
“I just bet the favorites every time.It wasn’t really lucrative, but it was safe.And then any time a champion got to their fifth fight, I bet on whoever was lined up against them.I knew the bosses would never let anybody win five fights.That would be stupid.It’d kill the golden goose.”
Yeah, stupid.Setting up a fair fight would just be honest gambling, making your money on the vig while the wagers stayed pretty balanced against one another.That’s how real sports books do it.They count on enough money being bet on either side to even out, so they make their money on the small percentage the house keeps of every bet placed.It’s practically a guaranteed way to make a profit, and why sports books are incredibly profitable.You have to be the world’s biggest moron to go bankrupt running a casino.
“So who was on the other end of the phone?Who was taking the bets?”If we could find the phone, which had been turned off ever since we’d gotten that number, we would be one step closer to finding the real boss, not just the Irish asshole who ran things on site.Although I could definitely stand to get my hands on him in the meantime.
“I don’t know his real name, honest.”I believed him.Usually after you scareallthe disgusting bodily fluids out of someone, they don’t lie to you anymore.He went on.“He told me to call him Pete.He sounded young…”
I didn’t catch the rest of whatever Piss Boy said.I was too busy mentally kicking my own ass.Fucking Pete.His whole “nice guy” shtick was an act, and I fucking fell for it.If I hadn’t already been totally healed from Luke’s blood, I would have checked myself for signs of a concussion, because no way should I have bought anyone’s bullshit that totally without a fucking head injury.Except I had.
They fucking played me perfectly.Caught me unawares behind the bar to kidnap me, put me in a shitty cell and made me fight my way out of it so the first person that showed me any sliver of kindness would instantly win my trust, while keeping him close to me through my whole time there so he could keep a fucking eye on me.It was straight out of the How to Stockholm Syndrome Your Captives playbook, and I fell for it.They even had him get pissed at me and then relent a little later.Fuck.Now Ireallywanted to find the son of a bitch, just so I could see if it was possible to beat the freckles off somebody.
“Pete, huh?”I asked.“Sounded kinda like Opie fromAndy Griffith?”
“I guess,” Stoller replied.“What’s that?”
“The TV show?Are we not in fucking North Carolina?Jesus Christ!Fucking millennials.What do you know about Pete?Something that can help me find him.Where did you meet to get your payout?Or to pay off your losers?”
The banker looked at me like I was a moron.“We…didn’t.Everything was done electronically.Through Venmo sometimes, then Zelle sometimes.Once we even used PayPal, but I had to set up an account for that.He didn’t use CashApp, like a normal person.”
Fucking millennials, indeed.Sometimes I really miss the golden days of crime, when you had to meet your bookie in an alley behind a shady-ass bar and hand over an envelope full of cash.Either way, this was enough information to give Xia a way to track Pete.Hopefully.Worst case, we might be able to get our hands on some of the crew’s money and hit them where it really hurt.At least where it really hurt until I found them and showed them what hurting looked like.
