Unlucky (34 page)

Jake laughed. "Yeah, the whole thing--the boat, the metal detectors--was really a genius move considering the scope of your arrest. I did have one question, though. What about the players who were cut earlier in the week?"

"The scope of the takedown is really only six people. A lot of them we were watching for an indication of involvement, just in case, and we figured if we put them all in one place, they'd talk. If someone we were watching got cut from the tournament early, we would have had agents on him."

"I see," Jake said. "So this whole setup was as much for the spying as the takedown. Makes perfect sense now that I know the situation, but God, I'm definitely ready to get home. Louisiana is one strange place."

Now Brad laughed. "You got that right. Hell, if I hadn't lived here my whole life, I wouldn't believe the half of what goes on down in these bayous."

Jake stared at Brad. "I thought you lived in New England."

"Hell, no. You think I'm faking this accent? Ain't nobody that good an actor."

"But you met Mark at a party..."

Brad gave him a curious look. "Yeah, corporate party in New Orleans. That's where he and Janine lived at the time."

Jake swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. "Mark's from New Orleans?"

"Nah, somewhere in the Midwest, I believe, but he did a rookie stint in New Orleans as a cop, waiting for the FBI deal to come through. That's where he met Janine." He stared at Jake. "You didn't know?"

Jake shook his head and stared down at the table, trying to clear the jumble of thoughts that raged within. It wasn't possible, was it? Could he really have worked with Mark for over ten years and not known what his partner was involved in? But if he were innocent, why hadn't he ever told Jake about being a New Orleans cop? In fact, not once, in all the time Jake had known him, could he remember Mark ever mentioning Louisiana at all.

It was an awful thought, but it would explain so much--why Mark kept trying to file the case away as useless and unsolvable, why Silas managed to slip through their fingers on every setup, why Mark had insisted that it be he rather than Jake who secured a job with Silas's crew.

Jake looked up at Brad. "I need to know exactly when you saw Mark in the casino in New Orleans."

Brad stared at him for a moment, a confused look on his face, then it cleared in understanding. "It was February fifth, a Saturday. I remember because it was my wife's birthday."

Jake did a quick mental calculation. "That was a little over two weeks ago."

Brad nodded. "Exactly how long has Mark missed his check-ins?"

"Including today? Forty-one days."

Brad looked at him, a grim expression on his face. "You've got a big problem, my man."

Jake thought of Janine, waiting in her townhome in
Atlantic City with a five-year-old, praying that Jake brought her good news of her husband. "You have no idea." He clapped Brad on the back as he stepped from behind the table. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, there's a phone call I need to make."

Brad gave him a sympathetic nod as Jake pulled his cell phone from his pocket, walked across the casino and stepped out onto the balcony.

"Yeah," his captain said, picking up on the first ring.

"It's Jake. I'm afraid I've got a big problem here."

"It's the last damned day of that tournament, and you still don't have any money to test. Is that asshole Silas ever going to lose enough to buy in for more or was this whole thing a bust?"

If only it were that simple
. "That's not exactly the problem I was talking about."

"Well, what the hell is it now?"

"Did you know that Mark worked as a cop in New Orleans before he joined the bureau?"

"I don't know. I guess I read it on his application. Why?"

"When we were building this case, why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"Hell, he probably had his tonsils out when he was a kid, too. I didn't tell you that, either. I'm not in the habit of going over my agents' resumes with their partners. It's your job to know the man you're working with."

"Well, apparently that man withheld information from the beginning. He told me he grew up on a farm in the Midwest and never once mentioned Louisiana or New Orleans. You got any idea why he would exclude that from his life story?"

There was a pause on the other end. "I honestly don't know. Maybe he didn't think it was relevant. Maybe he pulled something stupid working there and didn't want anyone looking too close. I don't get it, Jake. Where is all this going?"

"Somewhere you're not going to like." Jake took a breath and continued. "You know that ATF bust I told you about--the one going down during the tournament?"

"Yeah. Don't tell me you've fucked up their bust. I don't need any problems from the ATF, and I've already gotten more phone calls than I ever cared to take."

"No. Nothing like that. There's an ATF agent here, name of Brad, who met Mark when he was working in New Orleans. Brad made Mark when he was undercover working for Silas in one of the casinos in New Orleans. Mark filled him in so he wouldn't blow his cover."

"Okay. That's a random-chance sort of thing, but Mark did the right thing in telling the guy."

"Yeah. I thought so too--until Brad told me that happened just two weeks ago."

There was dead silence on the other end of the line for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Jake heard a sharp release of breath.

"Goddamn it!" his captain ranted. "I'm pulling you off this case as of now. You get your ass out of that casino. If Mark's turned, then Silas has known all along who you are."

"Maybe, but if it's as simple as Mark turning, then why was he locked in that apartment? It doesn't add up, Captain."

"Maybe he turned long enough for Silas to get what he needed, and then he was expendable. Maybe Silas only trusts him so far. I don't know and I don't care. The fact is, if Mark were free to roam a casino two weeks ago, having private conversations with the ATF, then he was also free to check in with the office as scheduled."

"Yeah, but it still feels like I'm missing something."

"Maybe the plan was to stage the kidnapping, make it look like Silas had taken Mark and held him captive. Maybe they thought they could release him afterward and Mark could step right back into his job at the bureau. At this point, it doesn't really matter. What I do know is that they're playing you, and it's not safe to remain at the tournament."

"I know that, but I can't leave. Silas may think he's got the upper hand, but his ego keeps him from having the control he thinks he does. This vendetta he has against St. Claire and his family goes back forever. I'm beginning to think this is a whole lot more than a simple money wash. I think Silas is trying to set up St. Claire to go down for the laundering, just like he did Jack Devereaux."

"All the more reason to get the hell out of there. If this is more personal than business, there's no way to know what Silas is capable of."

"If he wanted to kill me, he could have done so already. He's playing with me because he thinks he can win--his final parting shot at the FBI. I still think I can get an exchange. I only need the one."

"It's not worth the risk. We can regroup here and decide what to do next."

"What we can do next is nothing, and you know it. In a matter of days, Silas will be out of the country, probably taking Mark with him. We can't do a damned thing then."

"I don't care. It's likely I've already lost one agent. I don't want to lose another. Don't you make this personal, too."

"It
is
personal, Captain. And it's not just me who's affected by this. I've made promises to other people, and by God I'm going to see that I make every effort to make them happen. I'm sorry, but I can't leave until this is over."

"Even if it means leaving in a body bag?"

"If anything happens to me, get in touch with Brad Johnson at the ATF. Maybe he can help fill in the blanks."

"At least let me send you backup. I can have men at the boat within a half hour."

"There's no time. The boat leaves the dock in a matter of minutes. The ATF bust is going down midafternoon, so I only have five hours or so to pull off an exchange. I'll call as soon as I get an exchange tested."

There was a pause on the other end and Jake heard the captain sigh. "All right then. I trust your instincts. I've got Judge Warner standing by. If you can get an exchange, I'll have the warrant in place when we dock. I'd love to take this bastard down--now more than ever."

"Me too, sir."

"Do not attempt to apprehend Silas on your own. Wait until you dock."

"Yes, sir."

"And Randoll, I don't guess I have to tell you to watch your back."

Jake gave Mallory a brief nod as she approached the poker table while the players took their seats. "Last day, gentlemen," he said with a smile. "The ante goes up to five hundred a hand this morning and will increase again after lunch. Unless anyone wants to quit now."

The men chuckled, except Silas, who gave him a superior look, and Father Thomas, who lifted one hand in the air and said, "God bless this game of which we are about to partake."

Jake looked at the priest, still amused the old bird had held in this long. He probably wouldn't make it until noon today with the chips he had left, but he'd certainly given the words "functioning alcoholic" a whole new meaning. "Well, now that we've been officially blessed, what do you say we play some cards?" He reached for the decks of cards and began to shuffle.

Mallory removed her tablet from her pocket and began to take the morning orders, starting at the far end of the table first. He could feel her apprehension, thick in the air, as she moved closer and closer to the man who had ruined her life, but the resolve on her face was clear--this man was not going to win. What must she be thinking? What would he do in her position?

It was a question he didn't even want to think about answering because Jake was afraid that if he were Mallory those metal detectors wouldn't have kept him from bringing an instrument of death on board. She was serving the drinks, after all. A quick round of rat poison would do the trick and given Silas's reputation, the local police probably wouldn't even look too hard into his death, and Jake would be the last one to point out a discrepancy.

He watched Mallory take Silas's order with the same calm she'd dealt with the other players. This was one woman to be reckoned with. She would never sink to Silas's level and probably wouldn't appreciate Jake's aspersions of death by rat poison. She didn't want him dead. She wanted him in a living hell like he'd put her in. A prison cell for a man like Silas Hebert would be the ultimate in torture.

Mallory made it back with the drink server trailing behind her just as they were wrapping up the first hand. Luckily, his draw had been so bad that a blind monkey could have told him to fold, but that would all change now that Mallory was back to serve the drinks and spread her unluckiness along with them.

He'd tossed in his cards early and spent the rest of the hand watching the drunken priest make fools of everyone else with his four of a kind. He didn't even try to contain his disbelief when the man turned over his cards because no one else did, either.

The player on the far end clapped Father Thomas on the back and laughed. "I gotta hand it to you, Father," he said, "you've definitely made this God thing work for you. Maybe when I get back home I should attend a Mass or something. Think they'll let me in?"

Father Thomas looked at the man, a serious expression on his usually jovial face. "The prodigal son returns. Always been a favorite story of mine. Until he's eaten by the giant fish." He looked up at Mallory as she served his scotch amid everyone else's coffee. "What about you, Mallory? Do you have a favorite Bible story?"

Mallory thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Can't say that I do, but I'm sort of a fatalist. I like when the rider of death comes in Revelations." She gave them all a smile, then looked directly at Silas Hebert as she slid onto her stool. It was all Jake could do to hold in a smile. Here he'd worried that Mallory wouldn't be able to handle being so close to Silas, so close to the man who'd made her life into the mess it was, and she'd come up with both guns blazing.

He'd never respected a woman more than he respected her at that moment. She was tough and feminine all at the same time. Hard and softhearted. Beautiful and intelligent. She was everything he never thought a woman would be and something he knew he'd never find again.

He set his jaw and began to deal the next hand. He couldn't give Mallory the fairy-tale life she deserved, but by God, he could see that the man who ruined it was behind bars. It was the least he could do.

When the morning break rolled around, Silas Hebert slipped from the casino and into the lobby, pressing in a number on his cell phone as he walked.

"Silas," the man answered. "Where the hell are you? Don't tell me you're still playing."

"Of course I'm still playing. I have a chance to take Reginald St. Claire for a hunk of money. I'm not letting it pass me by. We're already down one player this morning. That dealer is having a lucky run at the moment, but we both know that will change. He's not the player I am."

"Are you telling me you're going to have to cough up more money to finish the day? Silas, that's a bad mistake."

"Don't tell me how to run my business. What the hell difference does it make if I put up more money? It just means we leave with more laundered money passing through Reginald St. Claire's hands."

"You're crossing lines we never agreed to cross," the man warned Silas. "You need to walk away from that tournament now. You needed to walk away from it sooner. All of this could have been handled the first day Jake Randoll came to town if you'd just let me do my job."

"If an FBI agent turned up missing or dead, feds would have swarmed this place and the entire tournament would have been canceled. I couldn't risk Randoll disappearing before the last day."

"Well, it's the last day now. Forget the laundering. That wasn't the point of all this anyway. The boat is already in position. I can have you out of there in a half hour. You're risking everything over a stupid card game."