Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Forty-five

I did some convincing that I was very proud of.

First, I convinced them that we had to bring our car. Sloane put us in the backseat of their sedan and Byers drove our rental.

Second, I convinced them that we had driven there directly from the airport, and had not checked into any hotel. It was the same with them.

Third, I convinced them that the bar in Harrah’s would be the best place to talk and get a drink. They didn’t know anything about Reno, so they went along with it.

“But don’t try anything until we’re finished talking,” Sloane said. I smiled from the backseat and said, “We’ve got no reason to try anything, Agent Sloane.”

“Yes, well,” Sloane said. “I guess you’ll have to convince us of that.”

We got a table in the back of the lounge and pulled some extra chairs over. We weren’t exactly blending into the background, but that didn’t seem to bother our Secret Service friends.

A pretty waitress showing lots of leg and cleavage came over.

“What can I get for you gentlemen?” she asked.

“Five cold beers,” Sloane said.

“Any particular kind?”

“Just whatever you have on draft will do,” he said.

“Comin’ up.”

“You mind if I ask the first question?” I said to Sloane.

“Yes.”

“How did you know my name?”

“I said I minded.”

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I thought you meant yes, I could ask the question.”

“I understand you’re a bit of a wise guy, Gianelli,” he said. “That doesn’t impress me.”

I wasn’t exactly sure which definition of “wise guy” he was referring to.

The waitress returned with five draft beers and leaned over, showing lots of skin while she set them down, attracting the eyes of the other two agents. But not Sloane.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“No,” Sloane said, “can you just run a tab for us, honey?”

“Sure.”

As she left the other two agents and Jerry lifted their glasses.

“I need to know what you and Mr. Epstein were doing out at that barn, Gianelli,” Sloane said.

I picked up my beer meaning to sip it, but it was so good I ended up taking several long gulps before setting it down.

“You said you heard somebody was making a buy,” I countered. “What kind of buy?”

“We’re not going to get anywhere if we each keep asking questions and nobody answers,” he said.

“Agreed.”

We stared at each other and I wondered if he was going to pull rank.

“All right,” he said. “You answer a question, and then I will.”

Jerry and the other two agents were watching us, intrigued, waiting for the next move.

“Okay, we were out there scouting the area because we are supposed to have a meeting tonight to make a buy.”

“And what are you buying?”

“Photographs,” I said. “That is, negatives for a roll of photos.”

“An entire roll?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“There’s at least one photo on that roll that somebody thinks is worth fifty thousand dollars.”

“Fifty thousand?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re going to pay somebody fifty thousand dollars for one photo?”

“The problem is, we don’t know which one,” I said. “That’s why we need the whole roll.”

“Where’s your buy money?” Sloane asked.

“In a safe place.”

Suddenly, I wanted to take another look at their IDs. I just had a bad feeling.

Byers and Simpson started to laugh.

“Fifty thousand …” Byers said, shaking his head.

“What’s funny about that?” I asked.

“Mr. Gianelli,” Sloane said, “you’ll be interested to know we are also here to buy a photograph-only we’re paying half a million bucks.”