Tainted Waters

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

"Guess whose company it is?"

Harry listened with excitement as his friend outlined that, after a fair bit of digging, he'd been able to find out who the true owner was. And what they'd been up to. Harry couldn't stop grinning.

"Good job. We'll use that soon. Thanks. Call me when you're done with that other problem. If she doesn't cause you any more trouble."

"Don't worry, she won't. I'm not getting that close again. I haven't practiced my long-range aim in a while, but I think this calls for it. I was trying to keep it neat and just have her disappear; however, she's changed the game, so don't worry, she'll be dead."

Harry tapped on the cell phone to end the call. He slipped the untraceable burner phone into his secret hiding compartment. His friend had been a sharpshooter for the military, at least until they'd given him a dishonorable discharge. But, by then, he'd managed to get all he'd wanted out of them—the training, the connections.

This will all go away soon.

That was the first good news Harry had in a while. He hadn't heard from George, which was both good and bad. He hadn't heard from Ozz either, which had to be good. He would not take any chances, though. Manmade things disappear. Or appear depending on how you looked at it. People disappeared. Evidence appeared. It had really been a good arrangement: Harry would feed George information about drug busts or about anything the police were looking into, after a tipoff from one of his contacts or reporters that dug it up. George would then pass it on to Mr. Ozz, who'd fix the problem. Sometimes he would call the man himself but he preferred not to. He preferred having George do that. The man himself only called Harry when he was disappointed. He was glad to say that hadn't been often, but the last phone call let him know it might be his last. Harry might be at strike two, but he wasn't going down without swinging.

He hadn't asked a lot of questions in the beginning, he'd just accepted the way things were. The job, the pay, the power, the opportunity to play in a bigger field had been very enticing. He hadn't cared that he was a figurehead, no one else outside of the three of them and his friend, KT, knew it. He got to rule the kingdom. What went into the newspaper was his decision—mostly anyway. Who got to work for the paper was his decision—mostly anyway. What news was printed and what wasn't was his to decide—somewhat anyway. His neck was the one on the chopping block when people were mad about how or what had been printed, though. That part he could do without, but knowing everything about everyone, whether printed or not, was a gold mine.

Mostly, he'd kept his nose clean, followed all of Mr. Ozz's directions, or at least most of them, and he'd kept quiet. At least until he'd gotten curious or bored with the limits he had to live within. He wanted more. He'd been a scrabbling thief when he'd been handpicked to work at the newspaper. His best skill had been finding out what was going on in everyone's life and finding their weakness, that one thing that could be used against them as blackmail. Everyone had it. He hadn't used it much because Mr. Ozz was not a man you crossed, but when Harry knew he could get away with it he'd pass on certain information to KT. And now he was returning the favor. Even George had his secrets and now he'd found out one of them.

Now, how do I use this to my best advantage?

He thought about contacting Mr. Ozz and informing him about what he'd learned, but the thought of that made him shudder. It might redeem him, but the man scared him senseless. He'd still make sure he found out but not yet and not by him. First, he would make as much money as he could from this deal, then he'd make sure it got leaked to Ozz somehow but in a way he'd get the credit. Then he'd no longer be at strike two, he'd be back in the good books, not having to look over his shoulder all the time. There was a third way to make money off of this.

Resting his elbows on his desk, he pressed the heels of his hands together and tapped his index fingers together, while he thought about what to do with the information he'd learned. How would it best serve him?

You're right, George, you will help me.