Skovko, Good old sneaky Roman! Thought it was about time Seth got to say his piece. As for your earlier guess about the surgeon? Well...

AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Glad you're still enjoying it and, yep, he sort of forgives him. They're getting there! But, you know, Dean likes to be stubborn!


Mr. Big Man

The offices of Alberto Del Rio were located on the Upper West Side, taking up the entire floor of one of the elegant period buildings and nestled between a day spa and a successful firm of lawyers.

He could see the fringes of the park from the executive chair behind his desk and on a good day he could even see the tall arches of the bridge that rose across the Raw River and lead out of the city towards the rolling hills.

In short, Alberto Del Rio had it made.

It was certainly a far cry from the dusty streets of Mexico where he'd grown up, scratching around for money and food, spending every day struggling simply to get by.

He had always been told that America was the land of opportunity, the place where a man with ambition could get by and although there were many things his early life had been short on – stability, security and education to name a few – the one thing he had never lacked was ambition.

Alberto Del Rio knew how to survive.

It was an instinct. He was like a dog. No matter how often life had knocked him down he had always dragged himself back up again and not only that, but he had made himself better each and every time. It was why he was so meticulous and careful.

It was also why he was a ruthless son of a bitch. He knew he was. It didn't really bother him. He would always do what was needed to succeed and at the end of the day that was why he had his name above the door of the office and other people didn't.

They just weren't him.

Leaning forward, he pressed down on the intercom and trilled into it brightly with his heavily accented twang,

"You can send in the next patient."

He didn't wait for an answer, simply removing his finger and sitting back with a sigh, rolling his desk chair closer to the window until it hit a pool of late afternoon sun. By the time the door opened, his eyes were closed and his fingers were steepled in front of his face. He was a veritable picture of relaxation and contentment –

Which is why the big man who strode into the room in front of him caught him almost utterly by surprise. He was a tall guy and muscular, with long hair scraped back and the swirls of a heavy-looking tribal tattoo peeking out from the half-sleeves of his white shirt. He looked like a cross between a commando and a businessman and was definitely not the usual patient type. His voice when he spoke was cool but also confident and deep with fitting baritone notes,

"Doctor Del Rio?"

Alberto blinked cautiously,

"Yes?"

"Look man, I really need your help."

There was something pleading in the bigger man's eyes – something desperate and frantic and hopeful all at once. It caught Alberto in a measure of surprise and he cocked his head to one side like a dog.

"Oh? What kind of help is that my friend?"

The big man took a seat and dragged it across the carpet until he could drop down his elbows on the edge of the desk. Despite the fact that the office was a palatial one – the best one in the building, he'd made sure of that – it suddenly seemed smaller for the other man being there and the fact that he was no longer the alpha male in the room, laced him with a flicker of unease.

Who the fuck was this guy?

Seeing it, Roman bit back a smile and continued to keep up his desperate front. Del Rio was the third stop on his list of potential suspects and was already looking like the most obvious crook.

There was just something about him that rose Roman's hackles – a smug, self-satisfied, cold-eyed façade. He was exactly the sort of guy that the Shield man could picture ripping the kidneys from an unconscious Dean and that image alone was enough to make him angry and it fuelled his resolve.

"My brother's sick."

Del Rio blinked back at him,

"Sick?"

"His kidneys, they're – they're shutting down on him."

"I see."

"The hospital's saying he needs a transplant and they put him on a list but – ,"

"It's taking too long?"

As Del Rio finished the sentence for him, Roman glanced up through his lashes at the man. The Mexican physician looked well-honed and pretty bulky, almost like he boxed or sparred in his spare time. His hair was starkly black with no softer highlights and it was difficult to tell if was natural or dyed. On top of that he was attempting a look of sympathy but missing the mark thanks to a new gleam in his eyes.

Roman sucked in a breath and nodded back,

"I don't know how much longer he can last."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Del Rio lied easily, "But what do you think I can do about this problem? It sounds like you already have good doctors who are dealing with the situation – ,"

"But it isn't enough."

"You're looking for a second opinion?"

Del Rio eyed him hard across the desk and Roman shrugged and pretended to flounder.

"We're looking for anything – we're desperate here."

"Anything meaning what, exactly? I'm afraid I can't provide a miracle cure, mister – ,"

"Joe," Roman put his hand out cordially, "My name's Joe. My brother's name is Dean."

The latter part at least was true.

"Well then Joe, I'm sorry about your brother, but I'm not sure how I can be of any help."

Wetting his lips and trying to look awkward, Roman moved forward until he was half-perched on the chair. Dropping his voice to a barely there whisper, he glanced around to give the impression he was nervous and then took a shaky sounding breath,

"We need to find a kidney, fast."

He let the sentence hang for a second, drinking in the look on Del Rio's sun kissed face.

Come on.

He murmured in his head in impatience.

Give me something to work with here.

The idea to float out a request for a kidney had actually been a brainwave of Dean's and on the face of it, his plan made almost perfect sense. While he was busy touting his renal organs, Roman and Seth were busy creating the demand. All they had to do was alert their list of suspects and then wait for the next step.

Whatever that was.

The only issue with their masterplan however was the inherent danger it posed to Dean. Not that the man himself seemed bothered, but Roman – and Seth for that matter – definitely were. The whole situation was downright creepy and made worse for the fact that it was all brand new ground. Beyond Dean offering to sell his kidneys, they literally didn't know how the sale went down. The only thing they did know was that the past guys who had tried it were lying in the morgue.

Roman bit back his growl.

Across the desk Del Rio sighed heavily and sat back in his chair with a creak of expensive leather. He was trying his best to look totally casual but for all his smugness, acting wasn't his thing.

"That's not how it works Joe."

"Not legally it isn't."

"Meaning?"

Roman smirked a little.

Okay, the guy was good. He was playing his cards very close to his chest and making sure whatever he was saying would not be admissible within a court of law. That was alright though, it didn't need to be admissible. What they were doing was entrapment after all. The Shield had never been about building cases or collecting evidence or average everyday general police work. The Shield's skillset was getting the bad guys caught red-handed. The need for testimony was pretty minimal after that.

"But you can buy organs, right? I mean on the black market or something? I heard someone say you might have connections – ,"

Del Rio stiffened visibly,

"Heard? From who?"

"A friend of a friend," Roman shrugged idly, "He heard it from some Irish guy with crazy red hair."

There was a momentary reaction on the impassive face across the desk that might have been missed by ordinary eyes. But Roman wasn't an ordinary person and his criminal spidey-sense was on red alert. No other doctor he had spoken to so far had reacted at the mention of a man with red hair. In fact, for the most part, they had looked completely baffled.

Del Rio was unflinching but there had been a look.

He knew Sheamus.

"I don't know who that is."

Oh, sure.

"Look, come on man, I mean, I know this isn't legal but I'm desperate, okay? Besides, the way I understand it these guys who donate sign up for it, right? They want to sell their organs, I need to buy one, it's a win-win situation. They'll be saving a life."

"I'm not – ,"

"I can pay you," Roman interjected, "If you think I'm not good for the money? I am. I mean it, that's not going to be a problem. How much are we talking about here?"

To further his cause, Roman reached into a pocket and pulled a very thick roll of notes. They were all discontinued or counterfeit for the most part – a gift from Stephanie and the evidence room – but on seeing them wadded up and looking so tempting the swarthy physician stopped himself dead. If it had been possible for dollar signs to light up in his eyeballs then they would have done, complete with casino jackpot sounds.

"Look," Del Rio offered, licking his lips a little, "I don't know if there's anything I can do – but – I will ask some people I work with closely if we can't find a solution for your brother of some sort."

Solution.

Nice way of phrasing murder.

Roman nodded enthusiastically,

"If you could get him – I mean – if you could make him better, then I swear would do whatever it takes. I would pay whatever you needed, no questions, I mean it. I just need him to be okay."

Reaching across the desk, Del Rio smiled unnervingly and tapped the bigger man's anxiously threaded hands. At the feeling of the calloused palm over his knuckles, Roman fought down an unappreciative grunt and tried to maintain his look of deep anguish.

"Don't worry," Del Rio sneered at him toothily, "I'll do the very best I can."

Roman handed him over a business card, with Joe's details and some spurious company Seth had made up. Their youngest team member had also created a correspondingly bullshit web trail so that when Del Rio went to look him up, both Joe and his company would appear to pull in the big bucks. That was an advantage of having Seth back again – the guy and technology were completely at one.

"That's my number man," Roman pointed, "Call me anytime. I mean it, day or night."

"I can't promise anything."

"I know, I know you can't, just – look, just do whatever you can."

As he spoke, Roman was already standing and flooding his expression with a look of desperate hope. Behind the desk, Del Rio was smiling and nodding across the top of the fake business card.

"It was nice meeting you Joe, I'll be in touch. Tell your brother it's all under control."

With one final look of complete and utter gratitude, the bigger man stepped out of the ultra swanky room. Alberto watched in silence until the door had fully closed and then sat back and let out a laugh.

That had been a turn-up for the books.

Reaching forward, he hooked up his desk phone and dialled in a number he knew off by heart.

Sheamus.

His expression clouded over in a heartbeat.

What the hell was the Irishman playing at? Telling people to show up at his office? Risking everything that they – he – had built? The guy was clearly a total fucking idiot and that was how he started when the unwitting Celt picked up,

"You are the most stupid man alive,"

"I – uh – what?"

"I've just had a guy here asking to buy a kidney and he says a friend was told to come to me by you."

There a momentary pause before the Irishman spoke up again although his tones were high with consternation and affront.

"Whoa, hold on a minute there Alberto. Are you sure they were even talking about me?"

"Irish, red hair – ,"

"Look, I haven't said shit. Do you think I'm an eejit? Give me a little fecking credit here boss."

"Well somebody's been talking," Del Rio spat angrily, "So when I find out who it is – ,"

"Calm down, alright? What's the big deal here? It's landed us another paying customer, right?"

If it weren't for the fact that there were patients in the waiting room, Del Rio would have probably exploded there and then.

"What's the big deal?" he mimicked in fury, trying and failing to mirror the Irish burr, "The big deal is that no one is supposed to know I have anything to do with this. I have a business and a reputation to maintain. I've worked too hard to get where I am and I will not lose it because one of your guys likes running his mouth off to everyone in town."

Sheamus sighed,

"Alright, alright – geez – I'll talk to them. I promise you it's not going to happen again."

"It had better not."

Across the line Sheamus huffed like a child and then there a momentary pause of doubt. Del Rio filled it with continuing to be angry, but the Irishman was already on to more important things.

"So this guy who came to see you, he did offer to pay, right?"

Del Rio smirked a little,

"Yes."

"Great, because the good news is I already found another desperate fucker and he's falling over himself to sign up to the cause. His girl threw him out, he's got no job, he lives alone – ,"

"So he's a good candidate?"

Sheamus snorted,

"Would I give you otherwise? He seems strong and healthy. He's just in a rut. He needs the money to win his girl back and I've convinced him this is the best way to do that."

Del Rio nodded.

Another donor already?

Maybe Sheamus wasn't an idiot after all and with the possibility of incoming thousands spiking his blood pressure, Del Rio almost growled.

"Bring him in, we'll need to test him at once. If everything looks good, I'll want to move soon. It sounds like the recipient is fading fast and I don't want the money to slip through my hands."

"You and me both boss," Sheamus grunted back at him, a grinning sort of malice lacing his tone, "We'll pick him up tonight and bring him on over."

Del Rio stiffened suddenly,

"Make sure – ,"

"He can't see where we're going? Yeah, I know. We have done this before, remember?"

"Just don't fuck it up."

"Take it easy," Sheamus snapped back, "We won't. We'll be there at the normal time. You just make sure we can get in the back – just in case you fuck it up."

Then the Irishman hung up on him shortly and Del Rio swore loudly and slammed down the phone. His heart was pumping at a million miles an hour and his head was spinning. It all seemed too close. The prospect of losing his business – his licence – suddenly felt real and it made his throat burn.

There was a knock at the door and his secretary jumped as he shouted at her breathlessly,

"What do you want?"

"Your next patient is here to see you," she frowned uncertainly and the physician took a deep breath and tried to appear calm,

"Thank you, send her in."

As the door clicked behind her, Del Rio clenched his fists tight and tried to shake off some of the growing concern. One more job and then maybe he would get out of it – stop taking on the black market jobs. But the overheads on the building and his car and his apartment. Well, he'd gone too far to stop it now. Besides which a part of him loved the uncertainty and the adrenaline and the danger of the whole crazy game –

Because that's what it was to Alberto Del Rio.

The business of murder was a lucrative game.


So, there they are, all the bad guys have been revealed. We get to meet them all again in the next chapter, which isn't necessarily a good thing for Dean (wanders off cruelly dangling that hint)