Page 33 of The Payment

Surrey laughed, blood staining his teeth.“Go to hell, old man.I’ve seen what happens to snitches in this business.Besides,”—his lips twisted in a sneer—“I owe the Dark One my life.Whatever you do to me won’t compare to betraying him.”

The mention of Jarek’s name shattered Gregor’s composure.The walking stick whistled through the air, connecting with Surrey’s ribs.The crack echoed off the dome’s walls.

“The Dark One?He’s a man like you, Mr.Surrey.Jarek Farrel, the Irish bastard!”Gregor spat, striking again.“The man you fear so much married my granddaughter under false pretenses and used her to infiltrate my organization.”Another blow.“And you think I care about your debt to him?”

“You’re delusional, Polov.He infiltrated your organization long before he ever met Tatiana.”Surrey curled forward as much as his restraints allowed, wheezing through broken ribs.Still, his eyes held defiance.“At least he protects his own, which is more than can be said of you.”Scorned dripped from his words, triggering a speckle of regret deep within Gregor.“When’s the last time you saw Tatiana, Polov?Does she even answer your calls?”

Rage clouded his vision.The walking stick became a blur of motion, each impact drawing new sounds of pain.Blood spattered across the metal grating.Behind him, Skull’s boots scraped against the floor.

“Boss.”Skull’s quiet voice cut through the haze of violence.“He can’t talk if he’s dead.”

Gregor’s arm froze mid-swing.He was breathing heavily.He wasn’t used to this kind of exertion since Skull tended to interrogations.He straightened and grunted as he noticed his usually immaculate suit was speckled with red.His eyes glimmered as he watched Surrey hang limply in the chair—conscious but barely.

“Perhaps,” Skull continued, stepping forward, “we should show him what happens to bodies in the digesters.The chemicals strip flesh from bone in minutes.Might help him understand his position better.”

Surrey’s head lifted slightly at that, a flicker of real fear breaking through his defiant mask.

Gregor forced his breathing to steady, adjusting his grip on the blood-smeared walking stick.

“An excellent suggestion.”He grabbed Surrey’s hair, yanking his head back.“What do you say, Mr.Surrey?Ready for a chemistry lesson?”

Surrey wheezed out a laugh, spraying blood droplets.“Why would I tell you anything?”His voice was weak but determined.“We both know I’m not leaving this place alive.Might as well die with my honor intact.”

Gregor’s jaw tightened.He nodded to Skull.“Show our guest the facilities.”

Two men grabbed Surrey’s arms, dragging him toward the digester tank.The businessman’s feet scraped against the metal grating, leaving dark smears.

“The chemicals in there will dissolve everything but your teeth,” Gregor called after him.“Last chance to make this easier on yourself.”

Surrey’s only response was to spit blood on the floor.

Gregor watched the futile struggle, irritation building.Time was wasting, and he had nothing to show for it.Then, a thought struck him, bringing a cold smile to his face.

“Leave him,” he commanded.The men paused, still gripping Surrey’s arms.“I just remembered.Your lovely wife Catherine is alone in that charming house in Winchester, isn’t she?The one with the rose garden?”He adjusted his cuffs, noting how Surrey’s face drained of what little color remained.“Perhaps she’ll be more cooperative.”

“You’ll be wasting your time.”Surrey spat the words at him.“She knows nothing.”

“Oh, I think she knows enough.”Gregor turned away, waving dismissively.“Skull, dispose of this waste of time.I have a social call to make.”

Surrey’s screams echoed off the dome.“Polov!Stop!This is a mistake!I’m not...NO!Listen to me.I’m not—”

The words cut off in a splash, followed by a muffled scream that quickly died away.Gregor pulled out his handkerchief, carefully wiping blood from the golden Satan’s head of his walking stick.The whole evening had been an exercise in futility.He should have gone straight for the wife.Even hardened men broke easier when their families were threatened.

He frowned, checking his watch.This delay meant spending another day in Boston.Suddenly, Skull’s earlier concerns about Farrel’s reach in the city didn’t seem quite so paranoid.The sooner they finish this business, the better.

“Boss,” Skull’s voice sounded unusually tense.“We may have a problem.”

Gregor turned slowly, already reading trouble in Skull’s rigid posture.The assassin stood at parade rest, but his right hand kept twitching toward his weapon—a tell Gregor hadn’t seen since their early days together.

“Surrey wasn’t supposed to be in Boston tonight,” Skull said in a low voice.“Our intel originally had him in New York until tomorrow evening.He was pulled back suddenly this afternoon on a direct order from Farrel.”

The implications hung in the air like the chemical steam rising from the digesters.Gregor’s fingers tightened around his walking stick.

“And you’re just sharing this information now?”His voice was deadly quiet.

“It was only just confirmed.One of our guys at Logan just sent word.Surrey’s original flight plan was changed at the last minute.He landed less than an hour before we captured him.”Skull’s eyes darted to the shadows beyond the catwalks.“Boss, this feels like—”

“A trap,” Gregor finished.His mind raced through the possibilities.If Surrey had been deliberately placed in their path...“Check his phone.Now.”

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