Jerry C leaned towards his captive. The trembling captive, a programmer, leaned as far away as his restraints would allow.
“You know a thing or two ‘bout this little thing, do you not?” Jerry asked, his voice saturated with all the grit of Manhattan, jerking his thumb to a computer screen that showed a website homepage. The frightened programmer nodded. “And you know some influential people who could be persuaded, right?” The programmer hesitated. Jerry snapped his fingers, sending his cronies into action switching cables and banging servers out of whack.
The programmer nearly shrieked, “Please! They need it! Stop it, I beg you!” Jerry smirked.
“We’ll stop messin’. All ya gotta do is show us our man.” Trembling, he nodded, opening a page on the computer with his bound hands.
“That’s him,” he mumbled, pointing to a name and icon at the top of a list.
Jerry peered at the screen, grinning triumphantly. “After all this time I found you,” he whispered. “You’re going down, Doc T. You are going down.”