Tainted Waters

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

"You called."

"Y-yes."

"This number is very hard to get, so I know that you wouldn't have gotten it without a thorough check. So please tell me what you need?"

Mr. Ozz looked at the email he'd received about his caller. His real name—which made him pause for a moment—this could be interesting. He skimmed through the rest of the information on the man who'd had the nerve to phone him. His wife and child, his home address, his home phone number, his place of work, his work address and phone number were all listed. None of which the caller had given but which his employee had found out for him. Now that he knew the man's real information, it was all stuff he already knew. Quite well, actually.

Giving out the number was only done when it was safe, meaning that it wasn't a set-up by the cops. He pretty much always had a good idea when the police were going to set up a sting to catch some bad guys. He knew when they were happening, where they were happening, and, in fact, he was the one who routinely fed that information to the police. Although most of them thought it always came from higher up. Having that control was one thing, but he hadn't gotten to where he was by believing that he was given all the facts he requested, or that his guys were always given the right information. That's why he'd stayed in business for so long.

"I was given your name … not your name … but this number. I was told that you could get me what I needed. I need …" There was a long silence. "I think I need a kidney."

"Call me when you know."

"No! Wait! We're just waiting for the medical system to tell us what is wrong. We're sure they will tell us that her kidneys are finished. So, what do I need to do to get a kidney? We'll know in a few weeks."

"When you know, you call me again."

"How much?"

"$10,000 per."

"Can I pay in installments?"

Mr. Ozz laughed, a very deadly, dangerous laugh. "Try that and we'll just use your kidneys."

"Wait! Don't you need blood type, age, all that stuff?"

"Yeah. I'll get that when you call and say you need the organ." Hanging up, Mr. Ozz smiled. People seemed to think he was running a parts store, complete with blood type, who the donor was, age of the donor, health of the body part, diseases, health issues—not his interest or his problem. It wasn't like he could run out to the nearest hospital and tell them what he needed and expect to get it. It never ceased to surprise him that people came to him because the official way of getting a human organ wasn't working for them and they expected him to fill the order with something compatible. They should just be thankful he could supply what the medical system could not.

He smiled. If this worked out the way he figured it would, not only would he get paid well but he just might get what he'd been waiting twenty years for.