CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ace waited at the top of Golden Gate Park near the pedestrian walkway that went over the bridge. The wind whipped across the bay, making others pull up their sweaters and sweatshirts around their necks. Ace was used to temperature variations, so stood stoically, waiting for their marks.

Below him in the park were Alec, Tailor, and Miller. Jean stood only a few feet away from him, taking photos of absolutely nothing, while Ian, Ghost, Nine, and Gaspar were spread out on the bridge itself.

"We're here, and we've got some great ideas for Mr. Krauss," said Thurston, walking toward him casually.

"I'm sure you do," said Ace. "He wants to see you in Miami. The usual spot."

"The usual spot? He's got like fucking ten spots in Miami," frowned Craig. "How are we supposed to know what that is?"

"You're asking me? Well, I can give him a call, and you can ask him yourself," said Ace with a sly smirk.

"No. No, that's okay. I'm certain that he means the island mansion. That's fine. We can go there."

Ace stared at the two men, waiting for just the right moment.

"Well? What now?" snapped Thurston.

"Now, you either speak or die," said Ace. The two men stared at him, wondering what he meant. Was there something else that Krauss wanted? Needed?

"We don't know what you want."

"Sure you do," said Ghost, walking up to them with Ian, Nine, and Gaspar.

They stared at the other men, taking a step backwards, realizing they would be killed by traffic. They were trapped on the walkway between the men. Looking in the opposite direction along the walkway of the bridge, they spotted a large man standing guard in the path.

"Wh-who are you? What do you want?" asked Craig.

"Besides getting back at you for what you did to your soon-to-be ex-wife, for being such a dick?" smirked Ian. "Pretty much everything. Why is Krauss getting into vanilla porn sites watching women undress and use the bathroom? He's trafficked women all over the world. Why this?"

"H-How do you know that?" asked Thurston.

"Why?" growled Nine.

"Why? Fucking money, that's why! Do you have any idea how much those sites make for him?" said Craig.

"No. Enlighten us," said Gaspar.

"Craig," warned Thurston.

"What? I'm fucking done. We're dead either way. Haven't you figured that out yet. People pay a shit-ton of money to watch those sites. Sick perverts who get off on seeing women in their underwear, or better yet, they have no underwear on. Some even like watching them piss. Sick to me, but whatever. They have to pay to watch any of it."

"How much?" asked Gaspar.

"I don't know. It's like sixty bucks a month for a membership or something, or you can do it by the day."

"That can't be it," said Nine. "That's a lot of money, but not enough for him to risk his other businesses."

They all noticed Thurston moving from one foot to the other nervously. Alec and Tailor stepped up next to Ace, and the two felons appeared to be ready to dart for the bay. Miller stood blocking the trail down into the park. Tailor growled at the man, a low, rumbling growl like an angry bear.

"What?" frowned Craig, staring at Thurston. "What are you hiding? What do you know?"

"Shut up!" yelled Thurston.

"Fuck no. No way am I dying for you. Tell them whatever you know!"

"You'd better speak up, boy, or I'm gonna give you a beating that you will not recover from," said Tailor.

"He'll kill us," said Thurston.

"So will we," said Ghost.

"It's not just about the viewing site. I mean, it is, but there's more. The site is just the way for him to get in."

"I'm waiting, and I am not a patient man," said Alec. "If you think he's angry, you haven't even seen me yet."

"He collects the credit card data, addresses, details about their families, all of it."

"Okay. So, he sells the credit card data," said Jean.

"No. He collects it, hacks into their accounts, reviews their purchases, and then bribes them. If some guy is paying for multiple porn sites and he has a high credit rating, then he probably has a high income. He either pays up monthly, or they expose him to family and business associates."

"Go on," said Jean. The others stared at Jean, wondering what else there was. That seemed enough to them.

"The data tells him everything. If they buy lots of flowers, they have a wife or girlfriend. Toys. They have kids. Lots of business dinners. Well, you get it. He literally rips their lives apart piece by piece unless they give him everything. He's not satisfied until they're broke. If they don't comply, he takes their wives and children as payment. He implants a tracking device in the hem of whatever they purchase. The buyer doesn't see it because the store owner does it unseen.

"These aren't just your average perverts. They're high-dollar. CEOs, senators, congressmen and women, entrepreneurs, financial investors. They think they can outsmart him and not pay or ignore his threats. They have no idea that he's tracking every female or young male in their families."

"Wait," said Jean. "Some of these people are financial investors?" Thurston said nothing as the others looked at Jean.

"He's using them. He's using them to get insider information. He gets more than money from them. A lot more."

While letting all of that sink in, they didn't notice Thurston backing up, taking a step into the street. A truck narrowly missed him, and he took off around the cars and then darted back along the pedestrian walkway. Jean and Ace followed, both much faster than he was. Before they could reach him, he stepped over the railing.

"I won't go to jail! I can't, and Krauss will carve me to pieces."

"Don't do this," said Ace. "You won't survive that jump." The man just stared at Ace, shaking his head.

"I know."