Take Down (32 page)

FIFTY-NINE

At four, Frank got the word that the roadblocks were in place.

“Okay, folks, we’re ready to roll,” he announced.

The three gaming agents watching the monitors rose in unison and filed out through the side door of the truck. Frank looked at Mags, who sat handcuffed in her chair.

“You, too,” he said.

Mags stood up and held out her wrists. He shook his head.

“Why are you treating me this way?” she asked, fighting back tears.

“Because you can’t be trusted. You’re a cheater and always will be,” he said.

“You sure enjoyed sleeping with me.”

He shrugged as if to say,
What did you expect?

“You still haven’t said what I’m supposed to do,” she said.

“My team is responsible for busting Billy and his crew,” he said. “When you see Billy in the casino, I want you to call out his name and start walking toward him. Be real friendly.”

“You want me to bring his guard down.”

“That’s right. Billy’s no dope. He’ll see you cuffed and realize he’s done. Let’s go.”

“Can I have my cell phone back?”

“You’re funny.”

They went outside to where a small army of gaming agents dressed in NV Energy uniforms were gathered on the sidewalk. Each agent had a firearm strapped to his side and a seven-pointed gold star pinned to his uniform. Trixie was giving them their final instructions before going in. “Remember, we have the exits to the hotel and casino covered, and that includes the underground garage,” Trixie told his troops. “If either Cunningham or Reverend Rock tries to make a run for it, let them go. Our men outside will chase them down. Got it?”

There were murmurs of yes and a collective nodding of heads.

“I got a phone call from the mayor earlier. I promised the mayor that we would not discharge our weapons inside Galaxy’s hotel or the casino unless there was a life-threatening situation, and I expect you to uphold that promise,” Trixie said. “Am I making myself clear?”

More agreement. Vegas was strange when it came to firearms; the police and gaming agents regularly gunned down bad guys in the street, yet rarely fired their weapons inside the casinos, fearful of the effect it would have on the town’s tourism business.

Mags breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Billy wasn’t going to get shot.

“Any questions, ask them now,” Trixie said.

There were none.

“Let’s roll,” Trixie said.

“The Gypsies are coming out,” came Rock’s voice in Billy’s earpiece.

It was four o’clock, and Billy stood frozen by the potted plant. Ike had been gone for several minutes, and Rock hadn’t said boo. Across the lobby, the chapel’s double doors sprang open and the Gypsies spilled out, all grins and good-natured laughter. They made a beeline down the lobby toward the casino, the bride still holding the groom’s hand, the weight of the hidden dealing shoe making each step a treacherous one. The rest of the party was yucking it up and having a swell time, enough of a distraction that no one would notice the bride wasn’t walking right.

“Ready to nail ’em?” Rock asked.

“Ready,” Billy said.

“Wait for Chase and his group. They’re coming out now.”

The storage room was directly across from the wedding chapel. The door opened, and Chase and the mob of muscle-bound security guards poured into the lobby as if being released from cages. Chase came over to Billy and pointed a finger in his face.

“I finally remembered you,” Chase said. “You and your friends ripped off the Tropicana at craps. Took us for a whole bunch of money.”

“Live and learn,” Billy said.

“I lost my job because of you, asshole.”

“Get moving,” Rock said into his earpiece.

Billy headed down the lobby with the posse of security guards breathing down his neck. The Gypsies had a good head start and had already passed the hotel check-in. Taking a hard right, they made their way into the casino and briefly disappeared from view.

Billy picked up his pace. If there was anything he loved as much as cheating a casino, it was watching someone else do it, and he didn’t plan on missing one beat of the Gypsies’ scam.

“Where’s Ike? I don’t see him,” Rock said into his earpiece.

He feigned looking over his shoulder and shrugged.

“You don’t know?” Rock said.

“He was here a second ago,” he said into the lapel mike. “Want me to go find him?”

“Fuck no. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

He passed the check-in, turned right, and entered the casino. The Gypsy wedding party was dead ahead. They had stopped to form a line so the best man could take a photo on his cell phone. Not liking the arrangement, the best man asked several members of the party to shift places.

Billy halted, and so did the security guards. Before his eyes, there was a swirl of bodies and a rustling of fabric as members of the party brushed past each other, the effect as dizzying as watching a square dance. Only the bride stayed still, as if glued to her spot.

Was this the Dazzle? It sure seemed to be, only the wedding party was nowhere near the blackjack pit, and that was where they needed to be standing if they were going to pull the stacked dealing shoe out of the bride’s gown and make the switch. Something else was going on.

Chase edged up beside him. “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know,” Billy said.

He edged closer for a better look. The dance now over, the wedding party formed a new line, and the best man took several shots. Billy had no idea what they were doing.

“Hey, buddy, would you mind taking our picture?”

The best man motioned to him. Billy hesitated. This was cutting it too close.

“Go take their picture,” Rock said into his earpiece.

Billy relieved the best man of his cell phone. The best man slipped into the line and slung his arm around the groom’s waist. Everyone in the party broke into a smile.

Billy took his time. By staring at the cell phone’s screen, he counted heads without being obvious about it. Fourteen members of the wedding party had entered the casino; now there were only thirteen. One of them had disappeared right in front of his nose.

He scanned the faces. Dear old Papa was gone.

“Let me get a few more of the beautiful bride. What’s your name?” Billy asked.

“Candace,” the bride replied.

“Say cheese, Candace.”

The bride said cheese, and Billy took several shots of her. She was standing in front of a Money Vault progressive slot machine with her gown spread wide. Progressive slot machines let players from around the state compete for a gigantic jackpot. Not long ago, a nurse from Reno had won five million bucks playing a Money Vault machine, and it had made all the papers.

There was a paddle for everybody’s ass, and his ass had just been spanked. The Gypsies weren’t here to pull a blackjack scam. They were rigging the jackpot on a slot machine, and they were doing it right in front of his nose.

He didn’t need X-ray vision to know where dear old Papa had gone. Hiding behind the bride’s gown, Papa had opened the Money Vault machine with a skeleton key, the machine’s internal security alarm put on standby mode by a powerful earth magnet the bride had been carrying beneath her gown. Using a small handheld computer loaded with a DEPROM software program, Papa was now overwriting the machine’s jackpot code that resided on its random-number-generator chip and replacing it with a code of his own. It was so damn beautiful that Billy nearly cried.

Instead, he handed the best man back his cell phone.

“Thanks a lot,” the best man said.

“My pleasure,” he said.

“Hey, cutie, want to make some money?”

He spun around. A small army of gaming agents dressed in NV Energy uniforms had appeared behind Chase and the security goons. At the front of the pack was his old nemesis Frank Grimes; beside him, Mags. She flashed a sad smile and held up her shackled wrists as if to say,
Look at me!
He thought back to the page and realized it was Mags who’d tried to warn him. And for that little indiscretion Grimes had slapped the cuffs on her.

He glanced over his shoulder at the Gypsies.

“Last one out’s a rotten egg,” he said.

The Gypsies broke ranks and bolted into the casino. The bride was moving awkwardly, the earth magnet back beneath her gown. The door on the Money Vault machine was closed, and the machine looked no different than before. They were going to get out of this with their skins.

He shifted his attention back to the casino entrance. The gaming agents were bumping into the security goons, telling them to get out of the way. Not liking the treatment, the security goons were mouthing off to them. Testosterone was flying high and tempers were flaring. There was a real opportunity here, only he couldn’t see himself starting a ruckus. He was too damn small and would end up getting crushed.

But Mags was not so shy. She didn’t give a flying fuck on a rolling doughnut about her own situation, and she threw herself into Grimes while sticking her leg out. The gaming agent toppled to the floor along with several security goons in a massive scrum.

Fists started to fly. Within moments, bedlam broke out, and the goons and gaming agents began mixing it up in a good old-fashioned brawl. Seeing his chance, Billy ran forward, prepared to grab Mags and make a run for it. The girl of his dreams pulled back.

“No,” she said.

“No?” he said.

“I can’t run away anymore.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. You go.”

All the bad feelings he’d had toward her vanished, and it tore him apart leaving her behind. Grimes was pulling himself off the floor, and she sent a knee into his face.

Billy started walking backward into the casino. Not too fast, not too slow, his steps measured—don’t run if you’re not being chased. Rock shouted in his ear.

“Who are those fucking guys beating up my men?”

Someone was going to pay for this, and Billy wished he could be there to see it happen. He ripped the receiver off his belt and threw it onto the floor along with the earpiece.

SIXTY

The brawl could be heard on the other side of the casino. Ike, T-Bird, and the pretty girls from Billy’s crew exchanged nervous glances, knowing something was not right.

“What the hell’s that noise?” T-Bird asked.

“Ignore it,” Ike said.

Ike heard his name being called. Don the cage manager had opened up a new window, and motioned for Ike to step forward. Ike hurried over with the gym bag and began passing the gold beauties through the cage into Don’s waiting hands. Don removed a stack of real gold chips from the cashier’s drawer and compared them to the fakes, checking for both color and height. Satisfied, he held the fakes in his hand and let them cascade to the marble countertop to see if they had the same consistency as the chips he handled every day. Convinced that everything was on the square, he counted the fakes, then looked at Ike through the bars.

“We’re good. I’ll be right out,” Don said.

Ike tried not to grin. It was going just as Billy had said it would. A door beside the cage swung open, and the cage manager emerged carrying a leather briefcase with the money orders. Ike stuck his hand out for the briefcase, and Don scowled at him.

“This isn’t yours,” Don scolded.

Ike grinned foolishly and lowered his arm. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Why are you sweating so much?”

“I’m not feeling so hot.”

“If you’re sick, you should stay home. Everyone knows that.”

“You’re right, I should have stayed home.”

Don gave him a look that said he didn’t like Ike’s behavior. The cage manager shifted his attention to T-Bird. The disguise put Don at ease, and he handed T-Bird the briefcase.

“I hope you had an enjoyable stay,” Don said.

“We had a great time. Didn’t we, girls?” T-Bird said.

The girls knew better than to say anything. It was starting to get awkward, and Ike said, “We need to beat it. Rock’s got a plane to catch back to LA.”

“I need his signature for our records.” Don reached into his suit jacket and produced a pen and a chit for T-Bird to sign for the money orders. “Just sign on the bottom and we’re done.”

T-Bird passed the briefcase to Misty and took the pen and chit out of Don’s hands. He made a flourish out of signing his name before handing Don the pen and the chit.

“Thanks for the good time,” T-Bird said.

Don stared at the signature on the chit. “Who’s Terrell Bird?”

“Me,” T-Bird said without thinking.

“I thought your name was Rock.”

“Well, yeah. It’s actually my nickname. You see . . .”

Don whipped out his cell phone. “Stay where you are. I’m calling security.”

This was bad. Real bad. Ike couldn’t see them talking their way out of it, so he sucker punched Don in the side of the face. Don’s eyes rolled up and he sank to the floor.

“I’ve got a sick man here. Somebody call a doctor,” Ike called out.

A big man playing video poker jumped out of his chair. Ike recognized him as having been in the garage earlier, a member of Billy’s crew. Travis was his name.

“Let’s go,” Travis said. “The getaway car’s parked in back.”

“I thought Billy said there’d be two of you,” Ike said.

“No, just me,” Travis said.

They moved in tandem toward the casino’s back entrance. Travis walked backward, never taking his eyes off Ike or T-Bird. Ike sensed motion behind him and looked over his shoulder. Misty had gone AWOL. Pepper was still there, holding the briefcase with the money orders. Ike drew a gun from his pocket and pointed it at her.

“Eeek,” Pepper said.

Ike relieved her of the money orders. “Don’t follow us, or I’ll clip you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Pepper said.

Ike and T-Bird bolted out of the casino. The baby-faced guys who were part of Billy’s crew had parked a red Chevy Malibu in a spot by the back entrance and were standing beside it, in anticipation of making their escape. Seeing Ike’s gun, they both turned pale.

“Go stand in the grass,” Ike said.

The baby-faced ones did as told. Ike got behind the wheel of the rental, while T-Bird rode shotgun. The keys were stuck in the ignition. Ike turned over the engine and hit the gas, making the engine roar. He circled the massive parking lot searching for the exit.

“We did it, man. We’re rich,” Ike said.

“Sunny Mexico, here we come,” T-Bird said.

“Did you see their faces? Wish I had a camera.”

Ike found the exit and took the turn on two wheels. He’d mapped out their escape plan that morning; they’d take the back roads to Spring Mountain Road, drive west to the freeway, and head due south to the California state line. From there it would be a leisurely drive to San Diego and across the border to the promised land, where they’d spend the rest of their days hanging out in their big hacienda, living in the lap of luxury.

T-Bird held the briefcase with the loot in his lap. “Holy shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It changed color.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The briefcase changed color. It was black inside the casino; now it’s dark brown.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I ain’t kidding you, man. It changed.”

It was at that moment that Ike knew they’d been double-crossed. Misty disappearing, only one guy inside the casino to help when there were supposed to be two. Billy had figured out they were going to rip him off, so the little guy had beaten them to the punch.

“Open it,” Ike said.

T-Bird popped the clasps and lifted the lid. “Fucking shit! It’s filled with rocks!”

“Surprise, surprise.”

“Turn around. Come on, do it!”

Ike wasn’t paying attention, his eyes focused on the roadblock at the end of the street. A line of men wearing bulletproof vests were pointing high-powered rifles and shotguns at the rental’s windshield, ready to mow them down. Ike’s foot touched the brake but didn’t press down. What was the point? They’d just end up rotting to death in some crummy federal pen with a thousand other losers. That was not the way he wanted to check out. Better to do it in style.

Seconds later, the first bullet penetrated the windshield. T-Bird jumped in his seat and then slumped forward with his chin resting on his chest, never knowing what hit him.

“I’m right behind you,” Ike said.

Rock stood at rigid attention in front of the flat-screen TVs, watching the mayhem unfold. Punches thrown, bodies flying, the lavish hotel lobby and its beautiful furnishings trashed by the army of determined gaming agents that had raided his casino. His security staff was putting up a decent fight but was outgunned and would ultimately lose to a superior foe. That was the law of the jungle, and it was only a matter of time before the gaming agents came upstairs to arrest him. Clutched in his hand was his walking stick, whose ornate handle he smacked viciously into his open palm. His bodyguards flanked him, unsure what to do.

The landline on the desk rang.

“Answer it,” the drug kingpin barked.

Doucette and his wife had taken up positions behind the couch, afraid of Rock’s wrath. Doucette sprinted to the desk and hit a button on the phone.

“Hello?”

“This is Don Winter, the cage manager. We’ve been robbed. The money orders are gone,” came the man’s weakened voice out of the speaker.

“
What?
”

“It was Ike. He and his partner stole the money orders.”

“Ask him where he is,” Rock said.

“Where are you?” Doucette asked.

“By the cage. I’m hurt,” the cage manager replied.

“Give me the remote,” Rock said.

One of the bodyguards found the remote. Rock punched in a command, and the images on the TVs changed to show Don standing outside the cage with a cell phone. Don was having trouble keeping his balance and listed from side to side.

Rock crossed the office and brought his mouth next to the speaker.

“How much did Ike steal from us?” Rock said to the speaker.

“Who’s this?” the cage manager asked.

“The person you were supposed to give the money orders to.”

On the screen, Don started coughing. A reflexive action, born from fear.

“Answer the question,” Rock barked.

“He got all eight million,” the cage manager said.

“How the fuck am I gonna pay my dealers back in LA!”

“I don’t know,” the cage manager said.

Rock brought his fist down on the speaker, disconnecting the call. Then Rock played back the events of the past twenty minutes and realized that while he’d been watching the Gypsies scam him, another scam had been taking place. There was no doubt in his mind that Cunningham had orchestrated this; Ike and T-Bird were too brain-dead to scam a casino and get away with it.

Rock shifted his gaze to Doucette. “Your guy ripped me off.”

“You’re not blaming me, are you?” Doucette said.

“Yes. I trusted you, and you failed me.”

“Wait a minute—I’ve got an idea,” Doucette said.

Doucette removed an abstract painting from the wall and spun the dial of a combination safe. It sprang open, and he pulled out stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills, which he tried to give to Rock’s bodyguards. The bodyguards refused to take the money, and Doucette tentatively approached Rock. The drug kingpin shook his head and scowled.

“Give the money to your dealers, tell them the rest is coming,” Doucette said.

“Coming from where?” Rock said.

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

“You’ve never had a smart idea in your life.”

“Come on, Rock, I’ve always been loyal.”

In Rock’s experience, those who proclaimed their loyalty were usually the first to roll on him. He clutched his walking stick with both hands and took a practice swing. The stacks of bills spilled from Doucette’s hands to the floor, and the casino boss started backing up.

“No, please,” Doucette begged.

“I’ll make it painless, if that makes you feel better,” Rock said.

Doucette tripped over his own feet and fell backward onto the couch. His arms shot out and he begged for mercy. Rock didn’t know the meaning of the word and came forward.

A shot rang out. One of the TV screens imploded, the image of Don the cage manager cascading to the floor in a thousand pieces. The bullet had sailed by Rock’s head, yet the drug kingpin hadn’t flinched. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot at.

Shaz stood behind her husband’s desk, holding a silver-plated handgun she’d pulled from the center drawer, her arms trembling in fear.

“Leave him alone,” she declared.

“And if I don’t?” Rock said.

“I’ll shoot you, and those dumb Mexican bitches as well.”

“Is that a fact?”

“I’m not kidding, Rock.”

“Why you doing this? I thought Marcus was just a meal ticket.”

“Maybe so, but he’s the only one I’ve got. Stay away from him.”

Rock had already decided how he was going to handle the situation. He dipped his chin, and his bodyguards drew knives from their sleeves, the polished blades sparkling in the bright daylight. Before joining his organization, they’d murdered scores of rival members of the drug cartel they’d worked for. Killing was in their blood, and their faces took on feral expressions.

“Take her out.”

With feline quickness they crossed the office and attacked from opposite sides. Shaz fired at them amateurishly, the bullets spraying the walls. One of the bodyguards caught a ricochet and brought her hand up to her chest in surprise.

The second bodyguard let out a cry for her wounded comrade. She knocked the gun away and began poking Shaz in the abdomen with the point of her knife, determined to make her suffer. Shaz was a dead woman; she just didn’t know it yet.

Rock shifted his attention to Doucette, who was crawling on his knees toward the door in a sorry attempt to escape. Rock despised weakness and realized what a terrible mistake he’d made trusting Doucette to run his casino. He got on top of the casino boss and raised his walking stick.

“Say your prayers.”