It doesn't add up
"Sam is in Chicago."
The call was interrupted soon after, on purpose.
Jimmy had wanted to be more theatrical than usual. He hadn't told him his name, but Mason couldn't help but recognise his informant. He'd been listening to that little rotter's voice for so long, heard him moaning and groaning so often that figuring out who he was wouldn't have been difficult even for a deaf person. Mason had caught Jimmy double-crossing two traffickers fighting over the same piece of cake. Of an already thin pie. They weren't big shots, but they were so desperate to get to the top that they were as cruel and ruthless as animals.
Mason, who was still with the police at the time, had found him in the way during an arrest that had caused a stir and made the local news. If Jimmy's name
