Fools die

Chapter 47

Cully, making his final plans to depose Gronevelt, could not think of himself as a traitor. Gronevelt would be taken care of, receive a huge sum of money for his interest in the hotel, be allowed to keep his living quarters suite. Everything would be as it had been before except that Gronevelt would no longer have any real power. Certainly Gronevelt would have “The Pencil.” He still had many friends who would come to the Xanadu to gamble. But since Gronevelt “Hosted” them, that would be a profitable courtesy.

Cully thought he would never have done this had Gronevelt not had his stroke. Since that stroke the Xanadu Hotel had slid downhill. Gronevelt had simply not been strong enough to act quickly and make the right decisions when necessary.

But still Cully felt some guilt. He remembered the years he had spent with Gronevelt. Gronevelt had been like a father to him. Gronevelt had helped him ascend to power. He had spent many happy days with Gronevelt listening to his stories, making the rounds of the casino. It had been a happy time. He had even given Gronevelt first shot at Carole, beautiful “Charlie Brown.” And for a moment he wondered where Charlie Brown was now, why she had run off with Osano, and then he remembered how he had met her.

Cully had always loved to accompany Gronevelt on his casino rounds, which Gronevelt would usually make around midnight, after dinner with friends or after a private dinner with a girl in his suite. Then Gronevelt would come down to the casino and tour his empire. Searching for signs of betrayal, spotting traitors or outside hustlers all trying to destroy his god, percentage.

Cully would walk beside him, noting how Gronevelt seemed to become stronger, more upright, the color in his cheeks better as if he took strength through the casino’s carpeted floor.

One night in the dice pit Gronevelt heard a player ask one of the dice croupiers what time it was. The dice croupier looked at his wristwatch and said, “I don’t know, it stopped.”

Gronevelt was immediately alert, staring at the croupier. The man had on a wristwatch with a black face, very large, very macho with chronometers in it, and Gronevelt said to the croupier, “Let me see your watch.”

The croupier looked startled for a moment and then thrust out his arm. Gronevelt held the croupier’s hand in his, looking at the watch, and then with the quick fingers of the born card mechanic he worked the wristwatch off the man’s arm. He smiled at the croupier. “I’ll hold this for you up in my office,” he said. “In an hour you can come up for it or you can be out of this casino. If you come up for it, I’ll give you an apology. Five hundred bucks’ worth.” Then Gronevelt turned away, still holding the watch.

Up in Gronevelt’s suite Gronevelt had shown Cully how the watch worked. That it was hollow and there was a slot in its top through which a chip could be slipped. Gronevelt easily took the watch apart with some little tools in his desk, and when it was open, there was a single solitary gold-flecked hundred-dollar black chip.

Gronevelt said musingly, “I wonder if he just used this watch himself or whether he rented it out to other shift workers. It’s not a bad idea, but it’s small potatoes. What could he take out on the shift? Three hundred, four hundred dollars.” Gronevelt shook his head. “Everybody should be like him. I’d never have to worry.”

Cully went back down to the casino. The pit boss told him that the croupier had resigned and already left the hotel.

That was the night that Cully met Charlie Brown. He saw her at the roulette wheel. A beautiful, slender blond girl with a face so innocent and young that he wondered if she was legally of age to gamble. He saw that she was dressed well, sexily but without any real flair. So he guessed that she was not from New York or Los Angeles, but from one of the Midwest cities.

Cully kept an eye on her as she played roulette. And then, when she wandered over to one of the blackjack tables, he followed her. He went into the pit behind the dealer. He saw she didn’t know how to play the percentages in blackjack, so he chatted with her, telling her when to hit and when to stick. She started making money, her pile of chips growing higher. She gave Cully plenty of encouragement when he asked if she was alone in town. She said no, she was with a girlfriend.

Cully gave her his card. It read, “Vice-president, Xanadu Hotel.” “If you want anything,” he said, “just call me. Would you like to go to our show tonight and have dinner as my guest?”

The girl said that would be marvelous. “Could it be for me and my girlfriend?”

Cully said, “OK.” He wrote something on the card before he gave it to her. He said, “Just show that to the maitre d’ before the dinner show, If you need anything else, give me a call.” Then he walked away.

Sure enough, after the dinner show he heard himself being paged. He picked up the call and he heard the girl’s voice.

“This is Carole,” the girl said.

Cully said, “I’d know your voice anywhere, Carole, you were the girl at the blackjack table.”

“Yes,” she said. “I just wanted to call and thank you. We had a marvelous time.”

“I’m glad,” Cully said. “And whenever you come into town, please call me and I’ll be happy to do anything I can for you. In fact, if you can’t get reservations for a room, call me and I’ll fix it for you.”

“Thank you,” Carole said. Her voice sounded a little disappointed.

“Wait a minute,” Cully said. “When are you leaving Vegas?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Carole said.

“Why don’t you let me buy you and your girlfriend a farewell drink?” Cully said. “It would be my pleasure.”

“That would be wonderful,” the girl said.

“OK,” Cully said. “I’ll meet you by the baccarat table.”

Carole’s friend was another pretty girl with dark hair and pretty breasts, dressed a little more conservatively than her friend. Cully didn’t push it. He bought them drinks at the casino lounge, found out that they came from Salt Lake City and, though they were not yet working at any job, they hoped to be models.

“Maybe I can help you,” Cully said. “I have friends in the business in Los Angeles and maybe we can get you two girls a start. Why don’t you call me in the middle of next week and I’m sure I’ll have something for you two either here or in Los Angeles?” And that’s how they left it for that night.

The next week, when Carole called him, he gave her the phone number of a modeling agency in Los Angeles where he had a friend, and told her she would almost surely get some kind of a job. She said she was coming into Vegas the following weekend, and Cully said, “Why don’t you stay at our hotel? I’ll comp you. It won’t cost you a penny.” Carole said she would be delighted.

That weekend everything fell into place. When Carole checked in, the desk called his office. He made sure there were flowers and fruit in her room, and then he called her and asked if she would like to have dinner with him. She was delighted. After dinner he took her to one of the shows on the Strip and to some of the other casinos to gamble. He explained to her he could not gamble at the Xanadu because his name was on the license. He gave her a hundred dollars to play blackjack and roulette. She squealed with delight. He kept a sharp eye on her and she didn’t try to slip any chips into her handbag, which meant she was a straight girl. He made sure that she would be impressed with the greetings he got from the maitre d’ at the hotel and pit bosses at the casinos. By the time the night was through Carole had to know that he was a very important man in Vegas. When they got back to the Xanadu, he said to her, “Would you like to see what a vice-president’s suite looks like?”

She gave him an innocent grin and said, “Sure.” And when they got up to the suite, she made the proper nods of exclamations of delight and then flopped down on the sofa in an exaggerated sprawled show of tiredness. “Wow,” she said. “Vegas is sure different from Salt Lake City.”

“You ever think of living here?” Cully said. “A girl as beautiful as you could have a great time. I’d introduce you to all the best people.”

“Would you?” Carole said.

“Sure,” Cully said. “Everybody would love to know a beautiful girl like you.”

“Uh-uh,” she said. “I'm not beautiful.”

“Sure you are,” Cully said. “You know you are.”

By this time he was sitting beside her on the sofa. He placed one hand on her stomach, bent over and kissed her on the mouth. She tasted very sweet, and as he kissed her, he made his hand go into her skirt. There was no resistance. She kissed him back, and Cully, thinking of his expensive sofa covering, said, “Let’s go into the bedroom.”

“OK,” she said. And holding hands, they went into the bedroom. Cully undressed her. She had one of the most beautiful bodies he had ever seen. Milk white. A golden blond bush to match her hair, and her breasts sprang out as soon as she took her clothes off. And she wasn’t shy. When Cully undressed, she ran her hands over his belly and his crotch and leaned her face against his stomach. He touched her head downward and with that encouragement she did what she wanted to do. He let her for a moment and then took her into the bed.

They made love, and when it was over, she buried her face in his neck with her arms around him and sighed contentedly. They rested and Cully thought about it and evaluated her charms. Well, she was great-looking and not a bad cock-sucker, but she wasn’t that great. He had a lot to teach her and now his mind was working. She really was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen, and the innocence of her face was an extra charm set off by the lushness of her slim body. In clothes she looked slender. Without clothes she was a delightful surprise. She was classically voluptuous, Cully thought. The best body he had ever seen and, though no virgin, still inexperienced, still uncynical, still very sweet And Cully had a flash of inspiration. He would use this girl as a weapon. As one of his tools for power. There were hundreds of good-looking girls in Vegas. But they were either too dumb or too hard or they didn’t have the right mentors. He would make her into something special. Not a hooker. He would never be a pimp. He would never take a penny from her. He would make her the dream woman of every gambler that came to Vegas. But first, of course, he would have to fall in love with her and make her fall in love with him. And after that was out of the way, they could get down to business.

– -

Carole never went back to Salt Lake City. She became Cully’s mistress and hung out in his suite although she lived in an apartment house next to the hotel. Cully made her take tennis lessons, dancing lessons. He got one of Xanadu’s classiest showgirls to teach her how to use makeup and dress properly. He arranged modeling jobs in Los Angeles and pretended to be jealous of her. He’d question her about how she spent nights in Los Angeles when she stayed over night and question her relationship with the photographers at the agency.

Carole would smother him with kisses and say, “Honey, I couldn’t make love with anybody but you now.”

And as far as he could tell, she was sincere. He could have checked on her, but it wasn’t important. He let the love affair go for three months, and then one night, when she was in his suite, he said to her, “Gronevelt is really feeling low tonight. He’s had some bad news. I tried to get him to come out for a drink with us, but he’s up in his suite all by himself.” Carole had met Gronevelt in her comings and goings in the hotel and one night had had dinner with him and Cully. Gronevelt had been charming with her in his courtly way. Carole liked him.

“Oh, how sad,” Carole said.

Cully smiled. “I know whenever he sees you, it cheers him up. You’re so beautiful,” he said. “With that great face of yours. Men love an innocent face.” And it was true. Her eyes were spaced wide in a face sprinkled with tiny freckles. She looked like a piece of candy. Her blond hair, tawny yellow, was tousled like a child’s.

“You look just like that kid in the comic strip,” Cully said. “Charlie Brown.” And that became her name in Vegas. She was delighted.

Charlie Brown said, “Older men always liked me. Some of my father’s friends would make passes at me.”

Cully said, “Sure they did. How do you feel about that?”

“Oh, I never got mad,” she said. “I was sort of flattered and I never told my father. They were really nice. They always brought me presents and they never really did anything bad.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Cully said. “Why don’t I call Gronevelt and you go up there and keep him company? I have some things to do down in the casino. Do your best to cheer him up.” He smiled at her, and she looked at him gravely.

“Okay,” she said.

Cully gave her a fatherly kiss. “You know what I mean, don’t you?” he said.

“I know what you mean.” And for a moment Cully, looking at that angelic face, felt a tiny arrow of guilt.

But she gave him a brilliant smile. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I really don’t, and I like him. But are you sure he wants me to?”

And then Cully was reassured. “Honey,” he said, “don’t worry. You just go up and I’ll give him a call. He’ll be expecting you, and you just be your natural self. He’ll absolutely love you. Believe me.” And as he said that, he reached for the phone.

He called Gronevelt’s suite and heard Gronevelt’s amused voice say, “If you’re sure she wants to come up, by all means. She’s a lovely girl.”

And Cully hung up the phone and said, “Come on, honey. I’ll take you up there.”

They went to Gronevelt’s suite. Cully introduced her as Charlie Brown and could see Gronevelt was delighted with the name. Cully made them all drinks and they sat around and talked. Then Cully excused himself, and said that he had to go down to the casino and left them together.

He didn’t see Charlie Brown that night at all and knew she had spent it with Gronevelt. The next day, when he saw Gronevelt, he said, “Was she OK?”

And Gronevelt said, “She was fine. Lovely, lovely girl. Sweet girl. I tried to give her some money, but se wouldn’t take it.”

“Well,” Cully said, “you know she’s a young girl. She’s a little new at this. But was she OK with you?”

Gronevelt said, “Fine.”

“Should I make sure that you could see her whenever you want to?”

“Oh, no,” Gronevelt said. “She’s a little too young for me, I’m a little uncomfortable with girls that young, especially when they don’t take money. In fact, why don’t you buy her a present for me in the jewelry shop?”

When Cully got back to his office, he called Charlie Brown’s apartment. “Did you have a good time?” Cully said.

“Oh, he was just great,” Charlie Brown said. “He was such a gentleman.”

Cully began to be a little worried. “What do you mean he was such a gentleman? Didn’t you do anything?”

“Oh, sure we did,” Charlie Brown said. “He was great. You wouldn’t think someone that old could be so great. I’ll cheer him up anytime he wants.”

Cully made a date with her to have dinner that night, and when he hung up the phone, he leaned back his chair and tried to think it out. He had hoped Gronevelt would fall in love and he could use her as a weapon against Gronevelt. But somehow Gronevelt had sensed all this. There was no way to get to Gronevelt through women. He had had too many of them. He had seen too many of them corrupted. He did not know the meaning of virtue and so could not fall in love. He could not fall in love with lust because it was too easy. “You don’t have a percentage going with you against women,” Gronevelt said. “You should never give away your edge.”

And so Cully thought, well, maybe not with Gronevelt, but there were plenty of other wheels in town that Charlie could wreck. At first he had thought that it was her lack of technical facility. After all, she was a young girl and not an expert. But in the past few months he had taught her a few things and she was much better than when he had first had her. OK. He couldn’t get Gronevelt, which would have been ideal for all of them, and now he would have to use her in a more general way. So in the months that followed Cully “turned her out” He fixed her up with weekend dates with the biggest high rollers that came to Vegas, and he taught her never to take money from them and not always to go to bed with them. He explained his reasoning to her. “You’re looking for the big shot only. Someone who’s going to fall in love with you and going to lay plenty of money on you and going to buy you plenty of presents. But they won’t do that if they think they can lay a couple of hundred on you just for screwing you. You’re going to have to play it like a soft, soft hustler. In fact, it could be a good idea sometimes not to screw them the first night. Just like the old days. But if you do, just make believe it’s because they overpowered you.”

He was not surprised that Charlie agreed to do everything that he told her. He had on the first night detected the masochism so often found in beautiful women. He was familiar with that. The lack of self-worth, the desire to please someone that they thought really cared about them. It was, of course, a pimp’s trick, and Cully was no pimp, but he was doing this for her good.

Charlie Brown had another virtue. She could eat more than any person he had ever met. The first time she had let herself go Cully had been amazed. She had eaten a steak with a baked potato, a lobster with french fried potatoes, cake, ice cream, then helped polish off Cully’s plate. He would show off her eating qualities, and some of the men, some of the high rollers, were infatuated by this quality in her. They would love to take her to dinner and watch her eat enormous quantities of food, which never seemed to distress her or make her less hungry and never added an inch of fat to her frame.

Charlie acquired a car, some horses to ride; she bought the town house in which she was renting an apartment and she gave her money to Cully to bank for her. Cully opened up a special guardian account. He had his own tax adviser do her taxes. He put her on the casino payroll of the hotel so that she could show a source of income. He never took a penny from her. But in a few years she fucked every powerful casino manager in Vegas, plus some of the hotel owners. She fucked high rollers from Texas, New York and California, and Cully was thinking of springing her on Fummiro. But when he suggested that to Gronevelt, Gronevelt, without giving any reason, said, “No, not Fummiro.”

Cully asked him why, and Gronevelt said to him. “There’s something a little flaky about that girl. Don’t risk her with the real top rollers.” And Cully accepted that judgment.

But Cully’s biggest coup with Charlie Brown was fixing her up with Judge Brianca, the federal judge in Las Vegas. Cully arranged the rendezvous. Charlie would wait in one of the hotel’s rooms, the judge would come in the back entrance of Cully’s suite and the judge would enter Charlie’s room. Faithfully, Judge Brianca came every week. And when Cully started asking him for favors, they both knew what the score would be.

He duplicated this setup with a member of the Gaming Commission, and it was Charlie’s special qualities that made it all work. Her loving innocence, her great body. She was great fun. Judge Brianca took her on his vacation trips fishing. Some of the bankers took her on business trips to screw them when they weren’t busy. When they were busy, she went shopping, and when they were horny, she fucked them. She didn’t need to be courted with tender words, and she would take money only for shopping. She had the quality of making them believe that she was in love with them, that she found them wonderful to be with and to make love with, and this without making any demands. All they had to do was call her up or call Cully.

The only trouble with Charlie was that she was a slob at home. By this time her friend Sarah had moved from Salt Lake City to her apartment and Cully had “turned her out” too after a period of instruction. Sometimes when he went to their apartment, he was disgusted by the way they kept it, and one morning he was so enraged after looking around the kitchen he kicked them both out of bed, made them wash and clean up the black pots in the sink and hang up new curtains. They did it grouchily, but when he took them both out to dinner, they were so affectionate that all three of them wound up together in his suite that night.

Charlie Brown was the Vegas dream girl, and then, finally, when Cully needed her, she vanished with Osano. Cully never understood that. When she came back, she seemed to be the same, but Cully knew that if ever Osano called for her, she would leave Vegas.

– -

For a long time Cully was Gronevelt’s loyal and devoted right-hand man. Then he started thinking of replacing Gronevelt.

The seed of betrayal had been sown in Cully’s mind when he had been made to buy ten points in the Xanadu Hotel and its casino.

Summoned to a meeting in Gronevelt’s suite, he had met Johnny Santadio. Santadio was a man of about forty, soberly but elegantly dressed in the English style. His bearing was erect, soldierly. Santadio had spent four years at West Point. His father, one of the great Mafia leaders in New York, used political connections to secure his son, Johnny, an appointment to the military academy.

Father and son were patriots. Until the father had been forced to go into hiding to avoid a congressional subpoena. The FBI had flushed him out by holding his son, Johnny, as a hostage and sending out word that the son would be harassed until the father gave himself up. The elder Santadio had done so and had appeared before a congressional committee, but then Johnny Santadio resigned from West Point.

Johnny Santadio had never been indicted or convicted of any crime. He had never even been arrested. But merely by being his father’s son, he had been denied a license to own points in the Xanadu Hotel by the Nevada Gaming Commission.

Cully was impressed by Johnny Santadio. He was quiet, well spoken and could even have passed for an Ivy League graduate from an old Yankee family. He did not even look Italian. There were just the three of them in the room, and Gronevelt opened the conversation by saying to Cully, “How would you like to own some points in the hotel?”

“Sure,” Cully said. “I’ll give you my marker.”

Johnny Santadio smiled. It was a gentle, almost sweet smile. “From what Gronevelt has told me about you,” Santadio said, “you have such a good character that I’ll put up the money for your points.”

Cully understood at once. He would own the points as a front for Santadio. “That’s OK with me,” Cully said.

Santadio said, “Are you clean enough to get a license from the Gaming Commission?”

“Sure,” Cully said. “Unless they’ve got a law against screwing broads.”

This time Santadio did not smile. He just waited until Cully had finished speaking, and then he said, “I will loan you money for the points. You’ll sign a note for the amount that I put up. The note will read that you pay six percent interest and you will pay. But you have my word that you won’t lose anything by paying that interest. Do you understand that?”

Cully said, “Sure.”

Gronevelt said, “This is an absolutely legal operation we’re doing here, Cully, I want to make that clear. But it’s important that nobody know that Mr. Santadio holds your note. The Gaming Commission just on its own can veto your being on our license for that.”

“I understand,” Cully said. “But what if something happens to me? What if I get hit by a car or I go down in a plane? Have you thought that out? How does Santadio get his points?”

Gronevelt smiled and patted his back and said, “Haven’t I been just like a father to you?”

“You really have,” Cully said sincerely. And he meant it. And the sincerity was in his voice and he could see that Santadio approved of it.

“Well then,” Gronevelt said, “you make out your will and you leave me the points in your will. If something should happen to you, Santadio knows I’ll get the points or his money back to him. Is that OK with you, Johnny?”

Johnny Santadio nodded. Then he said casually to Cully, “Do you know of any way that I could get on the license? Can the Gaming Commission pass me despite my father?”

Cully realized that Gronevelt must have told Santadio that he had one of the gaming commissioners in his pocket. “It would be tough,” Cully said, “and it would take time and it would cost money.”

“How much time?” Santadio said.

“A couple of years,” Cully said. “You do mean that you want to be directly on the license?”

“That’s right,” Santadio said.

“Will the Gaming Commission find anything on you when they investigate you?” Cully asked.

“Nothing, except that I’m my father’s son,” Santadio said. “And a lot of rumors and reports in the FBI files and New York police files. Just raw material. No proof of anything.”

Cully said, “That’s enough for the Gaming Commission to turn you down.”

“I know,” Santadio said. “That’s why I need your help.”

“I’ll give it a try,” Cully said.

“That’s fine,” Gronevelt said. “Cully, you can go to my lawyer to have your will made out so that I’ll get a copy, and Mr. Santadio and I will take care of all the other details.”

Santadio had shaken Cully’s hand and Cully left them.

– -

It was a year after that Gronevelt suffered his stroke, and while Gronevelt was in the hospital, Santadio came to Vegas and met with Cully. Cully assured Santadio that Gronevelt would recover and that he was still working on the Gaming Commission.

And then Santadio said, “You know the ten percent you have is not my only interest in this casino. I have other friends of mine who own a piece of the Xanadu. We’re very concerned about whether Gronevelt can run the hotel after this stroke. Now, I want you to take this the right way. I have enormous respect for Gronevelt. If he can run the hotel, fine. But if he can’t, if the place starts going down, I’ll want you to let me know.”

At that moment Cully had to make his decision to be faithful to Gronevelt to the end or to find his own future. He operated purely on instinct. “Yes, I will,” he said to Santadio. “Not only for your interest and mine, but also for Mr. Gronevelt.”

Santadio smiled. “Gronevelt is a great man,” he said. “Anything we can do for him I would want to do. That’s understood. But it’s no good for any of us if the hotel goes down the drain.”

“Right,” Cully said. “I’ll let you know.”

– -

When Gronevelt came out of the hospital, he seemed to be completely recovered and Cully reported directly to him. But after six months he could see that Gronevelt really did not have the strength to run the hotel and the casino, and he reported this to Johnny Santadio.

Santadio flew in and had a conference with Gronevelt and asked Gronevelt if he had considered selling his interest in the hotel and relinquishing control.

Gronevelt, much frailer now, sat quietly in his chair and looked at Cully and Santadio. “I see your point,” he said to Santadio. “But I think with a little time I can do the job. Let me say this to you. If in another six months things don’t get better, I’ll do as you suggest, and of course, you get first crack at my interest. Is that good enough for you, Johnny?”

“Sure,” Santadio said. “You know that I trust you more than any man I know and have more confidence in your ability. If you say you can do it in six months, I believe you, and when you say that you’ll quit in six months if you can’t do it, I believe you. I leave it all in your hands.”

And so the meeting ended. But that night, when Cully took Santadio to get his plane back to New York, Santadio said, “Keep a close eye on things. Let me know what’s happening. If he gets really bad, we can’t wait.”

It was then that Cully had to pause in his betrayal because in the next six months Gronevelt did improve, did get a greater grasp. But the reports that Cully gave to Santadio did not indicate this. The final recommendation to Santadio was that Gronevelt should be removed.

– -

It was only a month later that Santadio’s nephew, a pit boss in one of the hotels on the Strip, was indicted for tax evasion and fraud by a federal grand jury and Johnny Santadio flew to Vegas to have a conference with Gronevelt. Ostensibly the meeting was to help the nephew, but Santadio started on another tack.

He said to Gronevelt, “You have about three months to go. Have you come to any decision about selling me your interest?”

Gronevelt looked at Cully, who saw his face was a little sad, a little tired. And then Gronevelt turned to Santadio and said, “What do you think?”

Santadio said, “I’m more concerned about your health and the hotel. I really think that maybe the business is too much for you now.”

Gronevelt sighed. “You may be right,” he said. “Let me think it over. I have to go see my doctor next week, and the report he gives me will probably make it tough for me no matter what I want But what about your nephew?” he said to Santadio. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

For the first time since Cully had known him Santadio looked angry. “So stupid. So stupid and unnecessary. I don’t give a damn if he goes to jail, but if he gets convicted, it’s another black mark on my name. Everybody will think I was behind him or had something to do with it. I came out here to help, but I really haven’t got any ideas.”

Gronevelt was sympathetic. “It’s not all that hopeless,” he said. “Cully here has a lock on the federal judge who will try the case. How about it, Cully? Do you still have Judge Branca in your pocket?”

Cully thought it over. What the advantages would be. This would be a tough one to spring with the judge. The judge would have to go out on a limb, but Cully, if he had to, would make him. It would be dangerous, but the rewards might be worth it. If he could do this for Santadio, then Santadio would surely let him run the hotel after Gronevelt sold out. It would cement his position. He would be ruler of the Xanadu.

Cully looked at Santadio very intently, he made his voice very serious, very sincere. “It would be tough,” he said. “It will cost money, but if you really must have it, Mr. Santadio, I promise you your nephew won’t go to jail.”

“You mean he’ll be acquitted?’ Santadio said.

“No, I can’t promise that,” Cully said. “Maybe it won’t go that far. But I promise you if he is convicted, he will only get a suspended sentence, and the odds are good the judge will handle the trial and charge the jury so that maybe your nephew can get off.”

“That would be great,” Santadio said. He shook his hand warmly. “You do this for me and you can ask me for anything you want.”

And then suddenly Gronevelt was in between them, placing his hand like a benediction on both of theirs locked together.

“That’s great,” Gronevelt said. “We have solved all the problems. Now let’s go out and have a good dinner and celebrate.”

– -

It was a week later that Gronevelt called Cully into his office. “I got my doctor’s report,” Gronevelt said. “He advised me to retire. But before I go, I want to try something. I’ve told my bank to put a million dollars into my checking account and I’m going to take my shot at the other tables in town. I’d like you to hang out with me either till I go broke or double the million.”

Cully was incredulous. “You’re going to go against the percentage?” he said.

“I’d like to give it one more shot,” Gronevelt said. “I was a great gambler when I was a kid. If anybody can beat the percentage, I can. If I can’t beat the percentage, nobody can. We’ll have a great time, and I can afford the million bucks.”

Cully was astonished. Gronevelt’s belief in the percentage had been unshakable in all the years he had known him. Cully remembered one period in the history of the Xanadu Hotel when three months straight the Xanadu dice tables had lost money every night. The players were getting rich. Cully was sure there was a scam going on. He had fired all of the dice pit personnel. Gronevelt had had all the dice analyzed by scientific laboratories. Nothing helped. Cully and the casino manager were sure somebody had come up with a new scientific device to control the roll of the dice. There could be no other explanation. Only Gronevelt held fast.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “The percentage will work.”

And sure enough, after three months the dice had swung just as wildly the other way. The dice pit had winning tables every night for over three months. At the end of the year it had all evened out. Gronevelt had had a congratulatory drink with Cully and said, “You can lose faith in everything, religion and God, women and love, good and evil, war and peace. You name it. But the percentage will always stand fast.”

And during the next week, when Gronevelt gambled, Cully always kept that in mind. Gronevelt gambled better than any man he had ever seen. At the crap table he made all the bets that cut down the percentage of the house. He seemed to divine the ebb and flow of luck. When the dice ran cold, he switched sides. When the dice got hot, he pressed every bet to the limit. At baccarat he could smell out when the shoe would turn Banker and when the shoe would turn Player and ride the waves. At blackjack he dropped his bets to five dollars when the dealer hit a lucky streak and brought it up to the limit when the dealer was cold.

In the middle of the week Gronevelt was five hundred thousand dollars ahead. By the end of the week he was six hundred thousand dollars ahead. He kept going. Cully by his side. They would eat dinner together and gamble only until midnight. Gronevelt said you had to be in good shape to gamble. You couldn’t push, you had to get a good night’s sleep. You had to watch your diet and you should only get laid once every three or four nights.

By the middle of the second week Gronevelt, despite all his skill, was sliding downhill. The percentages were grinding him into dust. And at the end of two weeks he had lost his million dollars. When he bet his last stack of chips and lost, Gronevelt turned to Cully and smiled. He seemed to be delighted, which struck Cully as ominous. “It’s the only way to live,” Gronevelt said. “You have to live going with the percentage. Otherwise life is not worthwhile. Always remember that,” he told Cully. “Everything you do in life use percentage as your god.”