A bucket of filthy water splashed into his face, and William's eyes snapped open.
In the dim basement, a lamp hung overhead. A burly masked man in a gray tank top stood opposite him, his chest muscles rising and falling with each breath.
"Do you know who we are?"
"No, but I'll tell you anything you ask. Please don't get rough. I'm really bad with pain!"
William caved at lightning speed.
Anyone asking that question had probably picked their target carefully. If they dared kidnap a cop downtown, they might have some serious backing.
"William Maroni, I know the whole truth. You hired someone to murder Mr. Carmine Falcone. Admit what you did into the recorder, and I swear on my ancestors' graves that I'll spare you."
A second earlier, William had still been wondering how to cooperate and stay alive. But the moment the burly man said that, his attitude did a complete about-face.
This was the false information Maroni had fed him. Unless one of Maroni's trusted men had betrayed him, no third party should have known about it.
This was most likely another test from Maroni.
And if it was a test, he obviously had to look as loyal as possible.
"You've got the wrong person. I have no idea what you're talking about."
The burly man strode forward and punched him in the face.
William's head snapped to one side. Half his face burned before going numb, and his mouth and nose filled with the thick, metallic taste of blood.
He sucked at his mouth and spat out half a tooth.
Why were these gangsters so obsessed with testing people? Stealing those fake documents at Falcone Manor had been the same routine, and now they were doing it again.
Getting a filling meant paying to suffer.