The Friendly Neighborhood Hero Returns

Since they had agreed not to call the police, they naturally had to follow the rules of the street. Henry was quite sensible about that. His foot pressed down a little harder on the Black man's intact hand.

"Have you seen what happened to your other companions? Maybe you want to end up like them, only able to drink porridge for half a year and perhaps unable to chew anything hard for the rest of your life."

"But if you find a skilled enough doctor, maybe you won't have to suffer like that. So here's the question: do you have the money to cover those medical bills? Or perhaps your employer will pay for you?"

With his hand nearly being crushed beneath Henry's foot, the Black man begged repeatedly. "Stop, stop! I'll talk! I'll tell you whatever you want to know! I never said I wouldn't!"

Henry eased the pressure beneath his foot, but did not move it away. "Who told you to capture Skye?"

"I don't know who he is. He looked French, a man in his fifties with curly hair and a beard. He told me to deliver her to a designated location after catching her. That's all I know."

Apparently, this guy had spent plenty of time as a police informant and knew exactly what details mattered when answering questions. Henry moved his foot away and crouched beside the young Black man, whose saliva and snot had been forced out by the pain.

"Where's the designated location? How were you supposed to make contact? Was there a specific time or code word? Tell me everything I should know at once, and spare yourself some pain."

Like beans pouring out of a bamboo tube, the Black man spilled everything, whether he should have said it or not. He