“What exactly do you know?” I held the blowtorch a foot away from the head of the man who worked for me. He had been seen somewhere he shouldn’t have been. He was the third man of mine that I knew was holding something back from me.
“Nothing, I, I, I can’t!” he stammered and broke out in a sweat while I grew annoyed. The howl of the torch echoed through the basement walls of the warehouse where I handled most of my business. It was hidden deep within the property of my dockyard, and the basement was built like a bunker so screams could not be heard, and any odor would blend in with the surroundings. It was a necessary place where we could deal with the darker side of things that was out of the public eye and well away from our homes. Our ammunition and other specific items were stored her
