Going Under_ A Bill Roberts Thriller - Silas Payton Page 0,18

But Niccolo also knew, in the game of life he had chosen, there were no rules.

The phone rang, and Niccolo jumped a foot off his chair. He knew who it was, but was having regrets on disturbing him -- this was not a man to cross. Mr. Russo was the right hand man to Mr. Manchesi himself, the head of the Manchesi family in Toronto. The Manchesi family had connections throughout Canada and the northern United States. When Niccolo put out the call, respectfully asking to speak with Mr. Russo, he hoped the call would come soon. Now he wasn't sure. After the fourth ring, he picked up and said hello.

"Niccolo, my friend, how are you?" asked the man.

"Mr. Russo, it is good of you to call," he said. "I have been quite worried. The police called and asked me to go down to headquarters for some questions. I put them off -- told them I was busy, but they want me there tomorrow. Sir, I think it's about James Elliott."

"Niccolo, you've been told before. There is nothing to worry about. Tomorrow you go and answer their questions -- you don't know anything. They'll poke their noses around a bit, then they'll go away. Everyone knows to keep their mouths shut. We've been through their shit before and this murder has no ties to us or the docks. The police will find nothing."

Niccolo just wanted out, but it wasn't going to happen. He was a hired hand, following orders. If he rocked the boat, he'd be dead weight and had no doubt he'd get thrown overboard, ending up somewhere at the bottom of Lake Ontario. "Mr. Russo, I appreciate your call. I'm sure you're right."

"It always works out, Niccolo. Always," he said. "But, until this passes, we'd prefer no further contact."

"I understand, sir," Niccolo said, as the line clicked dead on the other end.

It always works out, Niccolo. Always.

What the hell does that mean? Of course it always works out for them, but in the meantime, I'll be a prison blow-up doll!

Chapter 18

The Doctor

In room nine-twelve of the High Point Regent Hotel, coincidentally about a block away from the Toronto Police Headquarters, the doctor waited patiently. She was ready. He'd done this enough times to know.

Find the weaknesses, feed the fears, offer hope, gain their trust, then manipulate their mind to do exactly what you want.

Tonight's test would be the entertainment -- tomorrow is what he was paid for, but first he got to watch some fireworks. Before the money-maker, he always gave them a test to ensure he had complete control. This one might cross a line, but his boss said he could stir the pot a bit. He had to get her to do something she would normally never do. In fact, if she got caught, she'd surely be killed. But that was not his concern. Nobody could connect her in time to stop the final step of his job.

He looked around the hotel room at his few belongings. Most of the clothes he wanted to keep, were already in his travel bag. This, and the few other important possessions, he'd get later. Tomorrow, he'd dispose of the rest of his secret drug mixtures. After a well deserved vacation, he'd remake them for his next job.

The rest of his belongings, he'd leave behind in his hotel room. Anything remaining would be cleaned out for him and destroyed.

He looked at his watch which said eleven-fifteen. He put his tablet down and grabbed his jacket. Time to secure his spot in the front row. He had a show to catch.

Chapter 19

Bill Roberts

The table looked like it had been scavenged by a pack of coyotes -- not a scrap of food left, and boxes strewn all over. As Evans cleaned up the mess, Bill made the mistake of mentioning his lunch bag letdown -- he was feeling a bit tired after the big meal. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew his mistake. It was a free-for-all on the napping jokes. To make matters worse, as they were all laughing, his face got flushed from embarrassment. His face turned red, however, the indented letters on his forehead didn't -- they were white in comparison, highlighting his wound. This led to another round of laughter.

Once they settled down and got back to work, Evans had listed Cliff's findings about the alleged jumper, Andrew Livingston, on part of the dry-erase board. Cliff put it together in an email summary and