Super Con

Fifty-Four

The MGM Grand had an elevated pedestrian walkway that connected it to New York New York on the other side of the Strip. Billy hiked across it and was soon sitting at a bar inside the casino, drinking a beer and trying to calm down.

As a rule, he avoided alcohol during a heist, but this was an exception. The football players were behaving like a bunch of crazy college kids, and it was a miracle that security at the Luxor and the MGM Grand hadn’t discovered they were being scammed and busted them.

While he drank, he surfed the Internet on his cell phone. Choo-Choo’s comment about the NFL double-crossing them had come out of left field. The Rebels’ defense was famous, and he didn’t understand what the NFL could do that would be seen as a betrayal.

On a hunch, he went to ESPN’s site and scrolled through the headlines. Stories about the upcoming Super Bowl were in abundance, with both teams getting plenty of ink. The Vegas bookmakers had the Rebels as underdogs but only by a field goal. That would change before the game when money betting on the Rebels rolled in.

A story posted the day before caught his eye. “Is this the final curtain call for the Rebels’ vaunted defense?” Was this the story that had gotten Choo-Choo so ticked off? He clicked on it and had a look. It had been written by a staff writer for ESPN who quoted anonymous sources claiming that Night Train and his pals were planning to announce their retirements after the Super Bowl. The writer made it sound like it was a done deal, and went on to talk about their long and storied careers and how they were shoo-ins to be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame when they became eligible.

He exited the article and thought about what it said. So what if Night Train and his pals were planning to retire? If the NFL had leaked the story, what was the harm? It didn’t hurt anyone. Maybe the problem was the article’s timing. Maybe the football players didn’t like the NFL stealing their thunder to get a nice story. It was their careers, after all.

At the end of the day, he didn’t think it really mattered. Night Train and his teammates’ careers were coming to a close, and they needed to get used to no longer being in the limelight.

His cell phone vibrated in his hand. Caller unknown. He answered it.

“It’s me,” Night Train said.

“I told you no phone calls,” he exploded.

“I’m calling from the lobby of the hotel, so there’s no worry.”

“No worry? Did Sammy tell you about his little stunt at the Luxor? He was so drunk he passed out at the table. If that didn’t take the prize, Choo-Choo showed up at the MGM Grand high on coke with two hookers who tried to roll him. Your friends are insane.”

“Look on the bright side. Sammy and Choo-Choo won a million and a half bucks, and there are still three casinos left to be ripped off. You can’t quit now, man.”

Every commotion inside a casino drew scrutiny, especially when large sums of money were lost. There was no doubt that security at Luxor and the MGM Grand were reviewing the surveillance tapes of Sammy’s and Choo-Choo’s huge wins to see if cheating was involved. Billy wanted to believe the scam was disguised well enough to pass muster. But there was always a chance that a sharp security person would smell a con, and things would quickly go south.

“Yes, I can,” he said.

“We won’t let you down again, and that’s a promise,” Night Train said.

Billy wanted to believe that Night Train’s word meant something. But he didn’t feel that way about Night Train’s teammates. If Billy were going to scam another casino today, it would be with the man he was talking to on the phone, and no one else.

“I’ll keep going, but there’s going to be a change in plans,” he said. “We’re going to hit one more casino, just you and me. Your friends are no longer part of the equation.”

“Don’t trust them, huh?”

“About as far as I can kick them.”

“I can live with that. Which casino do you want to hit?”

“The Mirage. It has more high rollers than any joint in town. The casino won’t be as nervous if you beat them out of a huge score, because they’ll win it back from another player.”

“How huge?”

“Ten million bucks.”

“You want me to steal ten million? That’s a big number.”

“We need to make up lost ground. Are you in or out?”

“I’m in. What time does this party start?”

He glanced at his watch and saw it was almost eight. He needed time to retrieve his car from Luxor’s parking garage and drive to the Mirage. The trip was only a few miles, but on Friday night, that might take an hour or more.

“Nine thirty, and don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there with bells on my feet,” Night Train said.

He ended the call, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. The bartender asked if he wanted another beer. It was time to switch drugs, and he ordered coffee instead.