"I need three things," Mike said, his voice cutting through the silence with a sharp, clinical edge. "The real ledger, or at least enough of it to be useful..."
"The names of the other six property owners. And a clear picture of who at the top of the Phoenix is actually pulling the strings."
"Big G is a collector; he's the one who knocks on doors and breaks fingers."
"He's not the one who decides whose fingers get broken."
[THERE WAS A NAME ON BIG G'S PHONE,] the system reminded him, the text appearing with a cold, digital efficiency. [THE PERSON TO WHOM HE REPORTED.]
[YOU SAW THE REFERENCE IN THE CONTACTS LIST.]
"I photographed it," Mike said, turning away from the window. "One name above Big G's... Listed only as 'R.' No surname, no title..."
"Just a letter, and I do hope it's not Rex because he's fucking dead."
[THAT IS YOUR DECISION-MAKER.]
