Take Down (27 page)

FORTY-NINE

Gabe liked a good challenge. That was what separated the men from the boys, the rich from the poor. It was why he enjoyed working for Billy; a week didn’t go by when the young hustler didn’t present him with a new way to rob a casino, and challenge Gabe to manufacture the apparatus necessary to make the scam work.

So far, Gabe was batting a thousand. Not once had he let Billy down. But there was always a first time, and the challenge of counterfeiting fake hundred-thousand-dollar gold chips in his garage had proven harder than he’d anticipated.

Once upon a time, Vegas casinos got counterfeited on a regular basis. Clever thieves took advantage of inexperienced cashiers and lax security and passed off handfuls of bogus chips before sprinting to the exits with their loot.

Casinos hated to get robbed, even for a measly dollar. Over time, they’d devised a series of elaborate tests to stop fake chips from appearing in their cashiers’ trays. These tests had proven highly effective, and today, it was rare to hear of a casino being counterfeited.

It was this hurdle that Gabe was attempting to overcome. He had to beat a series of tests that the industry considered foolproof. If he succeeded, endless days of wine and roses. If he failed, a life of banging out license plates in a prison machine shop.

Eight a.m. Saturday morning, after no sleep, he shuffled from his garage into the kitchen of his house carrying a tin can containing the forged chips that he’d spent the night slaving over. He yawned without covering his mouth.

The rest of the crew huddled around the kitchen table, eating scrambled eggs on paper plates. They’d spent the night bringing him coffee and keeping him company. Gabe had liked that. He missed his wife and kids, and it had been nice to have people in his house again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please. The show is about to begin,” the jeweler announced. “Please remove your plates.”

The kitchen table was cleared. Pouring the gold chips from the can, Gabe spread them out so each chip was exposed. Eighty chips in all, they covered a large portion of the table.

“Our first act is called pick the winner. One of these little beauties is the real hundred-thousand-dollar gold chip that Billy gave me to work with. The rest are counterfeits. I defy you to pick the winner. No touching, please. You have to do it by sight alone.”

“How many chances do we get?” Misty asked.

“Three,” Gabe said.

“What do we win if we pick it out?”

“You get to watch a grown man cry. On your marks. Ready, set . . . go!”

While the crew studied the chips, Gabe fixed himself a cup of coffee with the Keurig coffee machine and laced it with enough artificial sweetener to kill a lab rat. His ex-wife hadn’t left much in the way of household furnishings, but the items she had left, like the Keurig, he used every single day. It made him think she still cared about him, if only a little bit.

“Time’s up. Make your selections, please. Ladies first.”

Misty picked three chips from the middle of the pile. Gabe explained that the real chip had been x-ed with a Sharpie on its opposite side. He flipped over Misty’s selections.

“Sorry, you lose,” he said.

“Fuck,” she said.

Pepper went next, followed by Morris, Cory, and Travis. Each failed to find the real chip. Gabe smiled to himself. The color on the fake chips was a match. If it hadn’t been, the real chip would have jumped out like a sore thumb.

“Which chip is real?” Travis asked.

“Beats me.”

Gabe flipped the remaining chips over until he found the ringer. Each member of the crew took it and compared it to the others on the table.

“You’re a genius,” Travis declared.

“You’re only saying that because it’s true. Save your applause until we’re done.”

Billy had given Gabe a gym bag filled with chips from Galaxy’s casino to work with. Gabe removed ten of these chips from his pocket and stacked them. He then made a second stack using ten fake gold chips and placed the two stacks side-by-side.

“New game,” he said. “Who wants to play?”

“I do,” Misty said.

“How good is your vision?”

“Twenty-twenty.”

“Perfect. The chips in Galaxy’s casino weigh eleven point five grams, are thirty-nine millimeters in diameter, and are exactly four millimeters wide. The fake chips I counterfeited should be exactly the same size. If I erred, it will show up in these two stacks. I want you to visually compare the stacks and see if they’re identical.”

Misty placed her chin on the table and eyed the two stacks of chips. Gabe held his breath and waited. If he’d made even the slightest miscalculation in the width, it would be exposed when multiplied by the number of chips in the stack.

“They’re exactly the same. What do I win?” Misty said.

“My never-ending gratitude.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Gabe had the others check as well. They all agreed that the stacks’ heights were exactly the same. Every race had a finish line; his was now in sight.

Time for the third and last test. He asked Pepper to assist him. He arranged the chips into three stacks of five chips. Two of the stacks were real Galaxy chips, while the third contained five fake gold chips.

“Are you right-handed or left-handed?” he asked.

“I’m a rightie,” Pepper replied.

“I want you to pick up one of the stacks of real chips and let them fall to the table. Do it slowly, and let each chip brush past your fingertips.”

“What for?”

“I want you to get a feel for them. Casino chips are made from sand, chalk, and the same clay they use in kitty litter. It’s what gives them that special feel.”

“Cat litter? Come on, be serious.”

“I am being serious. Now try it.”

Pepper picked up a stack of real Galaxy chips and let them fall from her fingertips to the table. She repeated this several times.

“You’re right. They do have a special feel,” she said.

“Okay. Now close your eyes,” Gabe said.

“Ohhh, this sounds like it’s going to be fun.”

Pepper shut her eyes. Gabe moved the stacks around the table as if playing the three-shell game. Then he guided Pepper’s hand toward the stacks and had her repeat the process with each stack. All of the human senses could be tricked, except for human touch. If the stack of fake chips felt different than the others, her fingers would sense it.

“Which stack is the fakes?” Gabe asked.

“I’m not sure. Can I feel the stacks again?”

“Be my guest.”

The process was repeated. Pepper seemed intent on picking out the phonies, and Gabe felt himself getting nervous. A female bank teller in Hong Kong had broken up a major counterfeiting ring while counting a stack of fake hundreds at work. The fake hundreds had beaten all the bank’s detection devices but not the teller’s acute sense of touch.

“Time’s up. Please make your selection,” he said.

“They all feel the same. I can’t tell the difference,” Pepper said.

“Pick one anyway.”

Pepper picked up the center stack and opened her eyes. “Whoops, you got me.”

She’d chosen a stack of real chips. Gabe walked around the kitchen collecting high fives from the rest of the crew. His work was done; now it was their turn to shine.

He took a place at the kitchen table and let them serve him breakfast. As the food was being prepared, Travis pulled up a chair. Picking up one of the fake gold chips, Travis rolled it across his hairy knuckles in dexterous fashion.

“What happens if we get caught with these babies?” Travis asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Gabe said.

“Got to. I’ve got a family now.”

For the crime of dropping a slug in a slot machine, the state would put a person away for three years. For more sophisticated counterfeiting crimes, the penalties were more severe.

“You’ll do five to seven for trying to pass the fake chips, and I’ll do life for manufacturing them. I’m sure Billy’s taken all of that into consideration.”

“How so?”

“He’ll get a sucker to cash in the fake chips. That’s how major counterfeiting scams work. A sucker takes the risk, while the cheater gets the lion’s share of the reward.”

“What’s the risk to us?”

“Inside the casino? None.”

“How about outside the casino?”

“Just the equipment in my garage. If that gets found, we’re screwed.”

“Have you thought about dumping it?”

“I’ve already reserved a moving truck. On Sunday morning, I’ll load up the equipment and make a trip to the landfill in Boulder City. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Boulder City’s a haul. Why not dump it in a landfill nearby?”

“Vegas landfills use transfer stations, so the employees see what you’re dumping. Boulder City doesn’t have a transfer station. Once we dump the equipment, it’s gone.”

“You’ve thought this all out, haven’t you?”

Gabe nodded and sipped his coffee. He was a stickler for cleaning up after a job. The more you cleaned, the less chance of getting caught. It had become so ingrained in Gabe’s head that he thought about how he was going to clean up before every job he did.

“I’ve got a wife and kids, too, you know,” Gabe added.

FIFTY

Mags awoke in the middle of the night with her ear on fire and chugged down a pain pill along with a glass of scotch to make the burning sensation go away. It had done a number on her, and at ten o’clock the next morning, she could not get out of bed. That would have been okay, only some jackass was pounding on her front door.

“Go away,” she said.

The pounding grew frantic, the sound busting up the protective coating around her poor brain. It wasn’t going to stop until she made it stop. Still wearing last night’s clothes, she cleaned her teeth, brushed down her Bride of Frankenstein hair, and when she’d taken possession of herself, went into the living room and parted the curtains to the window that faced the street.

Frank was on the stoop, banging on the door. His SUV idled in the driveway, the black exhaust belching warning signals into the air. He was the last person she wanted to talk to, and she went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of juice.

The pounding continued. If need be, Frank would break the door down. She got her courage up and ventured into the front of the house.

“Leave me alone,” she said through the door. “I had a bad night. Go away.”

“Open the door, Mags. You know what I want,” he said.

“What if I say no?”

“You can’t say no.”

She opened the door and sunshine flooded the foyer. Frank brushed past her on his way to the living room. His hair was neatly parted and he’d trimmed the bushes from his ears. He only groomed himself when he was going to make a bust and thought he might get his picture taken. She didn’t like it when he came to her place unannounced.

“You left your car on. Someone might steal it,” she said.

“My boss is with me,” he said.

“You mean Trixie? What a piece of shit that guy is. How do you put up with him?”

“I’m not going to be putting up with him for much longer. How about a cup of coffee?”

“Forget it.”

“Thanks a lot. What’s with the bandage on your ear?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t want you here. Say your piece, and get out.”

“You’re in some mood.”

He ducked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. Glass in hand, he returned to the living room and took the couch. He pointed at the lone chair in the room. “Sit down. In case you forgot, the gaming board is planning to bust Cunningham this afternoon, and you’re going to help us. Give me any crap, and my boss will throw you in jail. Am I making myself clear?”

So much for Custer’s Last Stand. She positioned her chair so she faced him. Frank drank his water and put the glass down on the coffee table. He smiled with the sincerity of a phony TV preacher. She was tempted to throw a lamp at him, just to wipe that smile off his ugly mug.

“This afternoon, the gaming board is going to raid Galaxy,” he said. “The joint was built with drug money, and now it’s being used to launder more drug money. We plan to bust the kingpin of the operation, Reverend T. Rock.”

He took out his iPhone and keyed in a command. He turned the screen so Mags could see a live feed of a humongous black guy sitting poolside in a cabana. With him were two tattoo-covered Hispanic babes wearing leather bikinis.

“The women are named Margarita Jimenez and Damaris Olivio,” he said. “They used to work for a Mexican drug cartel before Rock lured them away. Rumor is, they’re absolutely lethal.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Shut up, and let me finish. Two days ago, Rock brought eight million dollars in drug money to Galaxy’s casino and passed it through the cage. The money was laundered through a chain of check-cashing stores in town and turned into money orders. Eight hundred of them, to be exact. Later today, Rock will go to the cage and get a leather briefcase with the money orders. We’re going to bust Rock once the transfer is made.”

Her wounded ear throbbed. She needed to take another pain pill and climb into bed. But first, she needed to get Frank out of her house.

“We plan to nail Cunningham as well and make it seem as if he’s working for Rock,” Frank said. “Kill two birds with one stone, if you will. To do that, we need to bust Cunningham inside the casino. That’s where you come in.”

“You don’t say.”

“Don’t get smart with me. You struck a deal with us, and I’m going to hold you to it.”

Whatever promises she’d made to Frank and his boss had gotten flushed down the toilet. Billy had saved her life last night, and she was not going to double-cross him, even if it meant lying through her teeth to Frank.

“You still haven’t told me what you want me to do.”

“We want you to establish contact with Cunningham before the raid, to verify where he is inside Galaxy.”

“I’m not going back inside that place.”

“Don’t worry. There will be more gaming agents inside that joint than you can shake a stick at. You’ll be totally safe.”

“I’m not going back inside. The people running that place are crazy.”

“You can’t say no.”

“Try me.”

“Don’t do this, Mags. You’ll regret it.”

“I’m not your slave. No.”

“All right, have it your way. You can draw Cunningham out to the valet area. Then you don’t have to go in.”

“Is that your idea of a compromise?”

“Yes. I’ve got a lot riding on this. My career’s at stake.”

Frank’s last promotion had gone up in flames because Billy had outsmarted him, and she guessed another promotion was now on the line and would be granted if Frank went where no gaming agent had gone before, and put Billy’s cute little ass in the slammer. It was the opening she’d been looking for, and she said, “I’ll do it, but I want something in return.”

“You’re not in a position to bargain with me.”

“Really.”

“Don’t even think about it, Mags. You’re wasting your breath.”

Frank had tipped his mitt and told Mags that he needed her. It was leverage, and she went to the front door and flung it open. “Get out of my fucking house.”

“You can’t throw me out.”

“Yes, I can. This is my place, and I didn’t ask you in. If you don’t leave, I’ll call 911.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

She took out her cell phone and started punching numbers. Frank jumped off the couch and rushed her. His movements suggested he might do something irrational.

“Don’t. Please, Mags. I can’t let this one get away.”

She stopped dialing. “This is all about your fucking job, isn’t it, Frank?”

His eyes fell shamefully to the floor, and he did not reply.

“Answer me,” she said tersely.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“I thought so. I want this arrangement to be over. I’ll draw Billy out this afternoon, but from that moment on, my agreement with the gaming board is over. I also never want to see you again. Do you understand?”

Still looking at the floor, he nodded.

“Good. Now, go talk it over with your boss. Don’t come back until he says yes.”

Frank walked out of the town house. She watched him climb into the idling vehicle in the driveway before slamming the door.

She gulped down a pain pill before going to her study. Got on her desktop and drew up a letter of termination between her and the gaming board, to take effect at 5:00 p.m. tonight. She cleaned up the typos before making two copies on the laser-jet printer she’d bought at Staples. From the front of the house came a pounding on the front door. Return of the caveman.

She opened the door and Frank just stood there, scared of her now.

“Trixie’s not happy about this,” he said.

“Shocking. Tell him to get in here.”

“Don’t order me around.”

“I have something you want, Frank, remember? Go get him.”

“You’re being really stupid, Mags.”

She laughed in his face. She had a job waiting with Billy’s crew when this was over. That, and a brand new life. Frank could go to hell, for all she cared.

Frank got his boss from the car and they came inside. Mags slapped the termination letter on the dining room table for them to read. When they were done, she asked them if they had any questions. None were forthcoming, so she signed each letter next to where she’d printed her name, then stuck the pen in Frank’s hand. Frank signed each document next to where his own name was printed. The pen was passed to Trixie, who initialed both signatures and dated them. Mags walked them outside to the car, feeling elated.

“I’ll be by at twelve thirty to pick you up,” Frank said. “And don’t try to cross me. I’ll throw your ass in jail if you do.”

“And deny you your promotion? I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said.

Frank got into the SUV and disappeared behind the tinted glass. Trixie remained in the driveway.

“I’d suggest you pack your belongings and get out of Vegas when this is done,” Trixie said. “The other hustlers in town won’t be very accommodating when they hear you’re a snitch.”

“Do you plan on telling them?” she asked.

“Word will get out. It always does.”

“Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

Mags got her cell phone from the bedroom. Coming outside, she opened the Gallery app and stuck the phone in Trixie’s face. With her thumb, she scrolled through the shots she’d secretly taken of Frank and her doing the nasty in various hotel rooms during the past year. There were over sixty. Each had a date. Frank was big on cunnilingus, and the dreamy look in his eyes as he was going down on her made his boss turn crimson.

“That’s extortion,” Trixie said.

“You hurt me, I hurt you,” she said.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Why yes, yes, I am.”

“The gaming board will destroy you. Or did you forget that?”

“My girlfriend has a memory stick with these photos on it. If anything ever happens to me . . . Well, you know the rest.”

Trixie’s face was a blank, but behind his eyes a bad movie was playing where everybody died in the end. Mags touched his sleeve.

“Call it a truce. You can’t win all the time, you know,” she said.

“We’ll see about that.”

They left and she went inside. She was going to call Billy and tell him about the raid. She didn’t know how to break the news without telling him she was a snitch, but she’d figure it out. But first, she was going to lie down before the side of her head exploded.