Get rid of the dirt you got on me.
See me in person once the job is done.
Well, he should have seen that coming. He did see it coming, actually. He just hoped his informants remained safe, though the chances were slim based on what he knew of the Omertas’ reputation. The note had arrived through one of the many he had within the Gomorrah--likely dead or packing their bags. At least his involvement would remain distanced, the letter unaddressed and assumed to be a prodding of the rubble to find the rat. He wouldn’t be so baited.
But the game was up, and he had to get rid of the evidence of his tampering. So over the course of a few days he managed to wrangle the rest of his rats into getting him as much gasoline as they could find. The C4 he had bought with his own caps--no questions asked. The combination would look like one hell of an accident.
The smell of the fumes all but overpowered the years’ worth of blood and fear that had soaked into the wood. He set the note down on a boulder outside, weighted down by a stone. Someone might find it, someone might not--either way, this couldn’t be traced to him. But it could be traced back to the Omertas, and that would make for an interesting turn.
He struck a match, and let the whole thing go up in smoke. One loose end taken care of. Now he just had to pay some sorry nobody to ‘confess’. Happy Holidays, here’s some caps, go spend it at the Gomorrah and give Big Sal this holotape with a copy of what they’re looking for. End of Grim’s tampering, but not the end of Grim.
