Super Con

Thirty-Four

“Frank, you know how badly I want you to get my job,” Bill “Trixie” Tricaricco, director of field agents for the Nevada Gaming Control Board, said. “You’ve paid your dues, my friend. But I can’t just hand it to you like a baton at a relay race. You have to earn it.”

Grimes went stiff in his chair. What the hell had Trixie just said? Grimes had arrested more casino cheats than any of his peers. If the report card was graded based upon number of busts, then Grimes got nothing but straight As. And then there was the matter of Trixie and Grimes having murdered a contract killer named Wilmer Haney and his despicable son and burning the Haneys’ house down to hide the crime. Didn’t that count for something?

“But I’ve earned it,” Grimes protested a little too loudly.

“But what have you done for us lately?” Trixie said. “I know that sounds trite, but it’s the truth, Frank, and you haven’t had a bust in a while. That’s not like you.”

“I thought I was a shoo-in. You said so yourself.”

“I did. But that was before Little Miss Debbie Do Good stole your thunder. That young lady is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Debbie’s only been here three years. I’ve put in ten.”

“The boys upstairs like her. She’s made some busts, and she’s got great legs.”

Special Agent Debbie Goodman had a horseshoe stuck up her ass. Do Good had made several solid busts, the most recent a Strip casino laundering cash using an intricate series of wire transfers. The Strip casino had paid a huge fine, and Debbie’s stock had risen in the department. This was the first time Grimes had heard she was vying for Trixie’s job, and it galled him.

“When will your replacement be announced?” Grimes asked.

“A few days before I retire,” Trixie said.

“Which is when?”

“I’m blowing out of here in two weeks. I’m still waiting for the paperwork to get processed. Folks in Carson City don’t know the meaning of fast.”

“So I still have time,” Grimes said.

“For what?”

“To bust the Gypsies and get your job.”

“I thought you told me the Gypsies slipped town and left a cold trail.”

“I haven’t given up yet.”

“You’ve got a lead on them?”

“Yes. And I plan to work it until I find them.”

“That’s the spirit, Frank.”

Trixie unscrewed a bottled water and took a long swallow. There was an ugly rumor swirling around that Trixie would soon be in the employ of Pearl Gaming, which owned four casinos in town. There was nothing wrong with Trixie entering the private sector; government employees did it every day. The problem was with Pearl. A month did not go by when one of their casinos wasn’t getting fined for running games that did not pay out the advertised rate of return. Pearl’s management didn’t care, and they simply paid the fines and continued to break the law. Only the threat of the gaming board revoking Pearl’s gambling license would change things, but the gaming board hadn’t yanked a casino’s license in forty years.

Hearing a knock on the door, Trixie barked, and a timid secretary stuck her head in. “There’s a man on the phone who needs to speak to Frank.”

“Take his number, and Frank will call him back,” Trixie said.

“I tried, and he refused to give it to me. He said it’s urgent.”

“Maybe that’s your lead on the Gypsies,” Trixie said.

Grimes’s cheeks burned. Trixie, his boss and friend, was telling him to leave. The shelves behind Trixie’s desk were bare, the mementos boxed away. Trixie already had one foot out the door, his days of dealing with field agents a thing of the past.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Grimes said.

“You do that, Frank. And good luck.”

He was going to need it.

Grimes parked his burly frame into the chair in his cramped cubicle. He had a number of snitches on his payroll, and it wasn’t uncommon for one to call needing money to bail his sorry ass out of jail. Grimes yanked the phone out of its receiver and said, “This is Special Agent Grimes. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“This is Billy Cunningham,” the voice on the other end said.

Grimes gripped the receiver so hard it made his hand throb. If any single cheat had hurt his reputation and stunted his chance for a promotion, it was Cunningham, and it was all he could do not to curse him out. “You just pulled me out of a meeting. This better be good.”

“I need your help,” Cunningham said.

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. You calling me for help. Ha-ha.”

“There’s something in it for you.”

“I’m hanging up the phone. Have a nice day.”

“There’s a Chinese gangster in town trying to fix the Super Bowl. His name’s Broken Tooth, and I can help you nail his ass.”

“His name’s Broken Tooth? Get real.”

“Guy’s got his own page on Wikipedia. Check him out if you don’t believe me.” Grimes decided to do just that. On his cluttered desk sat an ancient PC. He got on the Internet and with Google’s help was soon reading a page devoted to a notorious Chinese criminal named Wan Kuok-koi, aka Broken Tooth. According to the article, the guy was a public menace and had fixed hundreds of sporting events around the world. As a result of his gangster lifestyle, a meat cleaver had mangled one of his arms.

“You still there?” Cunningham asked.

“I’m here,” Grimes said. “So how does this guy plan to fix the Super Bowl?”

“Broken Tooth approached me to talk to players for the Rebels who spend their off hours at a private villa at Caesars. The plan is for the players to fix certain plays, which will cause several proposition bets to fall his way. Broken Tooth needs the money to finish building a beachfront resort he owns in China so he can live happily ever after.”

“Did you approach the players?”

“I sure did.”

“I should arrest you right now.”

“I didn’t have a choice. Broken Tooth’s goons kidnapped my limo driver and are holding him hostage.”

“You’re saying this Chinese guy blackmailed you.”

“That’s right. Now are you interested, or should I call the FBI?”

Fixing the Super Bowl. The words floated through Grimes’s brain like a banner being pulled by a prop plane. Sporting events were being fixed every single day, and the Vegas sports books took a beating because of it. But because these fixes took place outside of Nevada, the gaming board was powerless to stop them. It occurred to Grimes that this would be a first.

Movement caught his eye. Trixie’s office had a glass wall, and he spied Debbie Do Good standing in front of Trixie’s desk, working her charms. He came out of his chair.

“I’m interested. Where are you?”

“I’m at a joint called Herbs and Rye.”

“Never heard of it. You’d better give me directions.”

“Head west on Sahara and make a U-turn after crossing Valley View. Look for the dark, plain building next to the ARCO gas station and use the red door. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Yes, you will,” Grimes said.

There were so many gin joints in Vegas that Grimes had given up trying to keep track of them. In the good old days, the bars had served whiskey, wine, and beer. Today, the bars had wine cellars, fifty craft beers on tap, and exotic cocktails that took five minutes to prepare.

Grimes came through the front door of Herbs and Rye and stopped to let his eyes adjust. The place had a handful of customers, all tourists. Grimes could tell they were tourists because they were getting drunk in the middle of the day. Cunningham sat at the end of the bar, eating a plate of calamari. He waved to Grimes like an old friend.

Grimes gritted his teeth and headed down the bar. Not that long ago, he’d taken a contract out on Cunningham’s life, a plan that had blown up in his face. And now here he was, about to get in bed with the little bastard. He didn’t care. He wanted that corner office.

He sat on a stool next to Cunningham and ordered a beer. He wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, but if he ordered a nonalcoholic drink in a bar, everyone would know he was a cop.

Cunningham pushed the calamari his way. “Have some. It will make you feel better.”

“Who said I wasn’t feeling well?”

“It’s written all over your face. You look like crap.”

“What’s all this shit it’s mixed with?”

“Banana peppers, prosciutto, and cherry pepper aioli. It’s really tasty.”

Grimes stuck a piece into his mouth and chewed. It was the best calamari he’d ever tasted, but he wasn’t going to tell Cunningham that.

“Start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out,” Grimes said.

“Two nights ago, Broken Tooth paid me a visit down on Fremont Street. He’s got this plan to fix the Super Bowl by bribing the defensive line of the Rebels. Problem was, I wasn’t interested.”

“Really? Sounds right up your alley.”

“I don’t like sports betting. Too many things can go wrong. Broken Tooth got pissed when I said no, so he kidnapped my limo driver, Leon, and is holding him ransom.”

“You have a driver?”

“Part-time. Broken Tooth had his goons kidnap Leon and is holding him until I get this done.”

“Is Leon a member of your crew?”

“I’ve told you, I don’t have a crew.”

“Right. Does Leon drive the getaway car when you do your jobs?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Grimes finished the calamari. So far everything Cunningham had said rang true, but he wasn’t going to make a decision just yet. Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he said, “Which Rebel players did you talk to?”

“I met with Night Train McClain and his buddies on defense. Night Train wasn’t interested and told me to take a hike. That’s why I called you. If I tell Broken Tooth the bad news, he’ll have one of his henchmen put a bullet in Leon’s skull.”

“You haven’t told Broken Tooth.”

“Nope.”

Grimes sipped his beer in thought. He’d been trying to run down Cunningham for ten years and had come up short. Like a grand master at chess, Cunningham was always several moves ahead of his opponents, a master at anticipating what his adversaries were about to try.

“What’s your plan?”

“Broken Tooth wants to give Night Train and his pals upfront money as a show of good faith. I was going to tell Broken Tooth that the fix was in and pick up the money.”

“How much we talking about?”

“Five hundred grand.”

This was sounding better all the time. “And that’s where the gaming board comes in.”

“Correct. I’ll wear a wire when I go see Broken Tooth. I’ll get him to talk about the fix, and you can record it. Then I’ll get the five hundred grand from him and hand it over to you. That should be enough to arrest his sorry ass, don’t you think?”

It was more than enough. Broken Tooth would go down hard, and Grimes would get the credit. If that didn’t get him kicked upstairs, nothing would.

“When is this meeting with Broken Tooth taking place?”

“I’m waiting for him to call me. Hopefully this afternoon.”

Grimes winced. He needed time to set this up properly. “Can you stall him?”

“I can try.”

They finished their drinks. Cunningham’s cell phone on the bar began to vibrate. The young hustler raised the cell phone to his face and answered the call.

“Hello?”

Grimes’s hearing was better than a dog’s. The caller was Chinese and had a voice as pleasing as fingernails scraping a chalkboard. Grimes heard the words Super Bowl come out of the caller’s mouth and knew that everything Cunningham had said was true. Flashbulbs exploded, and for a moment he could hardly think straight. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, and he didn’t care if a little scumbag hustler was responsible for it.

“Tell him yes,” Grimes whispered.

“What time?” Cunningham said into the phone. “Six o’clock tonight?”

Grimes looked at his watch. It was three thirty. Two and a half hours was hardly enough time to set up a proper sting, but it would have to do.

“Tell him you’ll be there,” Grimes whispered.

“That works for me,” Cunningham said into the phone. “Where?”

Cunningham motioned for something to write with. Grimes pulled a pen from the pocket of his sports coat, and Cunningham wrote down an address on a cocktail napkin.

“I’ll be there.” Cunningham hung up.

Grimes paid for the drinks and food. It was his way of telling Cunningham that the past was behind them. Cunningham seemed to appreciate the gesture and stuck out his hand.

“This feels like the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” the young hustler said.

It was all Grimes could do not to wring Cunningham’s neck. He hated Cunningham with all his heart and soul, but that was meaningless right now. Grimes needed help. And when you were drowning, you couldn’t be too choosy about who threw you a life preserver.

Grimes briskly shook the young hustler’s hand.