Jackpot

Chapter 45

Bronco took his time driving to Vegas.

Normally, he liked to race. It was not unusual for him to drive over a hundred miles per hour on the highway. But then outside of Reno he’d remembered something. Throughout the Nevada desert there were hidden surveillance cameras whose sole purpose was to photograph speeding motorists, and compare their faces to data bases of known criminals. The cameras were everywhere — in signs, trees, even road art. Avoiding them was next to impossible. It was better to drive slow, which was exactly what he’d done.

At four A.M. he pulled into the deserted valet stand of the Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino on the south end of the Strip. The place was a tomb, and he stood next to his car, and waited for a uniformed attendant before turning over his keys.

He checked in at the front desk. The Mandalay Bay’s theme was straight out of an old Tarzan movie, with screeching macaws and parrots in the lobby, and the staff decked out in camel-colored safari clothes. He didn’t have to give a credit card to the smiling receptionist, just a fake driver’s license that said he was Thomas Pico. And because Thomas Pico was a preferred customer — i.e. a whale — his entire stay would be comped. He took the elevator to his penthouse suite. It was high-roller heaven, and contained three spacious rooms with marble floors, leather furniture, a well-stocked bar, and a spectacular view of the famous Shark Reef swimming pool. Somebody once said that the best things in Las Vegas were free, only nobody could afford them.

He called room service and ordered a bottle of Moet and lobster thermidor, then took off his clothes and put on the terrycloth robe he found hanging in the closet.

The food came a half hour later. He ate in front of the picture window in the living room. To think he’d been locked up that morning, and now look where he was. He felt like a king.

When he was finished, he decided to call Xing. He’d tried calling the Asian from the road, but got no answer. He hoped Xing wasn’t trying to screw with him.

He went into the master bathroom and shut the door. It was befitting a Roman emperor, and had a marble tub and its own steam room. He turned on the water so there was plenty of noise, and called Xing on his cell phone. High-roller suites were often bugged so the casino could keep tabs on their most important customers, and he didn’t want anyone working for the casino to overhear his conversation.

The call went through. This time, Xing picked up.

“Who’s this?” the Asian asked.

“It’s Bronco. I just got into town. You ready to make the exchange?”

“Yeah. I was watching you on TV. You made the national news.”

“How did I look?”

Xing laughed. “The people on the TV said you were the devil.”

Bronco glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Steam from the shower was swirling around him. He was the Devil. “Say when, and I’ll be there.”

“I’m staying at the El Cordova on Fremont. Room 28. Meet me in two hours.”

“See you then.”

Bronco walked out of the bathroom with a smile on his face. In two hours, he would have the Pai Gow scam, and the ability to rip off any casino in the country whenever he wanted. More importantly, he’d be able to start his life over.

The phone next to the bed started to ring. It was nearly six A.M., and he wondered who’d be calling at this hour. He decided not to answer it, and after a while the ringing stopped. Then, it started again. In anger, he snatched up the phone.

“Hello,” Bronco snarled.

“Is this Tom Pico?” a man’s voice said.

Bronco froze. No one knew he was in Vegas except the girl at the front desk.

“Who the hell is this?”

“Joey Carmichael. We met a couple of months ago playing blackjack in the casino. I just saw you check into the hotel. Guess you don’t remember me.”

“Afraid not.”

“Well, I remember you.”

Bronco didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed. He took the phone into the bathroom and turned the shower back on in case anyone was listening.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bronco asked.

“We had a couple of pops at the bar,” Carmichael said. “You told me you were in the film business, had a studio in Santa Monica called Jackpot Productions, even invited me to drop by when I was in town. I was in Santa Monica a few weeks ago, and I looked you up. Guess what I found out? There’s no such person as Thomas Pico, or Jackpot Productions. You’re a phony.”

Bronco sat down on the toilet seat. He had no idea who this clown was, not that it really mattered. He’d been made, and his cover was blown.

“What do you want?”

“Let me ask you a question, Tom, or whatever the hell your name is. How do you think the Mandalay Bay will react when they find out you’re not a high-roller, and that you lied to them to get special treatment? Think they’ll call the cops?”

“I said, what do you want?”

“I do. I think they’ll call the cops and haul your ass to jail.”

“One more time. What do you want?”

“I just got wiped out at the blackjack tables,” Carmichael said. “Give me five grand to keep my mouth shut, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“Call it what you want. I just need some money to tide me over.”

“If I agree, will you promise to leave me alone?”

“You bet.”

He’d been in Vegas for less than an hour, and somebody was already shaking him down. He had no other choice but to deal with the guy, and he said, “There’s a restaurant on the south end of Las Vegas Boulevard called the Instant Replay. Meet me there at nine o’clock, and I’ll give you the money.”

“Make it noon. I’m taking my kid to the pool in the morning.”

“You’re here with your family?”

“My son. I’ve got visitation rights this week.”

“Noon it is.”

“See you then, Tommy,” Carmichael said, laughing softly.

Bronco killed the call and punched the wall hard enough to crack a tile. Joey Carmichael was a problem, and he had more than enough of those right now. He needed to take Carmichael out of the picture, or risk seeing his life go up in flames. His meeting with Xing would have to wait. He called the Asian back.

“Change in plans,” Bronco said.