“I’m waiting,” I said firmly. “Lie to me and see what happens.”
“There was an envelope on my kitchen counter one morning. It had an offer and five thousand Euros.”
“What did the note say?”
“It said that a lady needed to be taken—kidnapped—and that if I was willing to do it, then to keep the money and I would get further instructions within forty-eight hours. If I did not want to do the job, then to leave the money in my mailbox that evening. If I went through with the job, then I would be given another twenty thousand.”
“How did this person know you would be willing to do something like that?”
“I… I had done something like it before. Just not for him.”
“So he knew you wouldn't flinch at the offer. How did you know it wasn’t bogus? That the local police weren't framing you?”
“The police here do not worry themselves with things like that. And besides, the money, it was very good. The risk was worth it.”
“How did you communicate with him after you accepted the job?”
Boomer muttered to himself from the other chair, his face still buried in the magazine. “I can’t believe they got divorced.”
“I didn’t,” Emmanuel said. “I kept the money, and so he left another note with very detailed instructions: who the girl was, where she would be, and where to leave her. I completed the job, and his final note that came with the last payment said to destroy all the notes and to speak of it with no one. It was signed, ‘The Recruit.’”
“And yet here you are, jabbering away to us. I didn’t even have to buy you a drink first.”
“How did you know I did the job? I only told two…” His words trailed off as understanding dawned. “Saul told you?”
“Is that his name?” Boomer said. “I thought he looked a little like a Grito myself.”
“Where is Dimitrius?” Emmanuel asked cautiously.
“I think your barber has a gun allergy,” I said. “What did you do with the lady you kidnapped?”
“I left her in the trunk of my car and parked it on the top floor of a parking garage. I was instructed not to return to get it for twenty-four hours. That was all. I did the job as instructed and got paid as agreed.”
“Have you heard from him again?”
“I have not.”
“Do you know anyone else who did a job for him?”
Emmanuel hesitated. “Yes. I do. Just one other person.” His eyes brightened momentarily. “The Recruit communicated with him differently. A website, I think.”
“Go on.”
“It is a forum. For guns. A place where people can discuss them. I do not know the details personally. My friend does.”
Boomer looked over. “Why would The Recruit communicate with you via a simple note, but do it online with your friend?”
“Because my friend, Basilios… He murdered someone. Perhaps for a job like that, The Recruit needed to give him a way to communicate if anything changed.”
“Athens is a nice city,” I said. “But as that goes, I’ve seen plenty. I’m getting pretty tired of running all over the place. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to call your friend. You’re going to tell him you want to do another job for The Recruit, and you’re going to get the details about that website or get me another way to get in touch with him.”
Emmanuel stared into his lap. He sighed and shook his head. “It won’t work. But okay.”
“Slowly, take your phone out and call him. Does he know English?”
“Yes.”
“Put him on speaker and talk in English. My Greek is nonexistent.”
“What good will this do? The Recruit will just ignore your message. And then possibly get rid of my friend for violating the rules.”
“You let us worry about The Recruit ignoring the message. As for your friend, I don’t give a rat’s ass. Call him. And you’d better be convincing.”
Emmanuel sighed again. Reluctantly, he dialed a number and then put it on speaker. A deep voice answered.
“Basilios…. I need to ask you something.”
Ten minutes later, we had what we wanted. It took some convincing on Emmanuel’s part to get his friend to provide the information. Emmanuel finally won him over by offering to pay him a portion of his earnings if The Recruit gave him another job.
Emmanuel was right. The website was a gun forum where interested parties could discuss favorite weapons, cleaning techniques, and accessories. The Recruit communicated via a sub thread dedicated to night optics for hunting rifles.
After Emmanuel hung up, Boomer called Granger and relayed the website details and the login credentials. He told Granger to post a message on the forum in Emmanuel’s name and to include my phone number.
“How will this help?” Emmanuel said again. “He will not respond.”
“You’re probably right,” Boomer said. “But right now, it’s all we’ve got. And we have ways to track viewers and users of that sub thread. So you let us worry about all that. If nothing else, we can use it all, and you, as bait. Maybe he’ll get upset at you reaching out and respond so that he can set up a meeting to eliminate you.” Boomer threw him a wink. “That latter part would be ideal.”
Emmanuel groaned.
“Stand up,” I ordered.
A set of hair clippers rested on the counter mounted beneath a mirror. I grabbed them up and jerked the cord out of the wall. Swiping the razor across the base of the cord, I severed it from the clippers.
“Turn around.” I tossed the razor onto the counter, grabbed his meaty hands, and used the cord to bind them behind his back. Taking out my gun, I jammed the barrel into his ribs. “Let’s go.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’m not sure you’re completely useless to us yet. Since we’re short on time, you’re coming with us until we have what
