Take Down

FIFTY-SEVEN

The elevator dumped them in the lobby. Instead of going to the wedding chapel as Shaz had instructed, Billy visited the casino instead. The joint was jumping, the players yelling with each turn of a card or roll of the dice, the sound of a ringing slot machine cutting through the air.

“People acting crazy in there,” Ike said.

It was called a hot zone, and it occurred when a player got on a lucky streak. The euphoria quickly spread to other players and caused them to behave like drunken sailors on a navy payday. He could not have asked for a better distraction for making a run at the cage with the fake chips.

They headed to the wedding chapel. Shaz stood outside the chapel’s double doors, not happy at being made to wait. Billy said, “Sorry, but the elevators were slow.”

“Why do I think you’re lying every time we talk?” she said.

She approached an unmarked door across from the chapel and punched a combination into the door handle. It led to a storage room. Along with the fake flowers and wall decorations was a small army of muscle-bound, plainclothes security guards. Shaz introduced Billy by saying that he was a consultant the casino had hired to catch a gang of cheaters who were planning to rip them off this afternoon. Each guard gave Billy a cursory nod.

“Chase, mike him up,” Shaz said.

Chase was as big as a sumo wrestler and he gave Billy a funny look.

“You look familiar,” Chase said. “Ever work for the Trop? I used to run security there.”

Billy had ripped off the Tropicana many times, right under this idiot’s nose.

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” he said.

“That’s funny. I’d swear I’ve seen you before.”

Chase clipped a receiver onto Billy’s belt from which ran two transparent plastic wires. The first wire contained a receiver embedded in a flesh-colored earplug, the second a miniature black microphone with a clip. Billy stuck the earplug into his left ear and clipped the mike to his right lapel. He flipped the power button on the receiver and static filled his ear.

“You’re set,” Chase said. “What’s your name again?”

“Billy Cunningham.”

“I’ll figure out where I know you from eventually.”

Shaz pulled him out of the storage room. In the lobby outside the chapel was another couple ready to take the plunge. The bride was chewing gum while her husband didn’t appear old enough to have pubic hair. The doors to the chapel opened and they filed in with the rest of their party. Billy checked the time. Three thirty on the nose. At three forty-five, it was the Gypsies’ turn.

“Walk with me,” Shaz said.

He followed her into the hotel lobby, where she stopped at a large potted plant positioned by the wall. “This is where we want you and Ike to stand. Don’t move until Rock tells you. Remember, we can see everything you’re doing. No funny stuff.”

He thought back to the four large-screen TVs in Doucette’s office. A large potted plant had been on TV number two, at the very periphery of the surveillance camera trained on the lobby. They had framed the play without knowing it.

“Got it,” he said.

She grabbed his chin and squeezed it. “I’m heading upstairs to my husband’s office. Don’t you dare try and fuck us. I’ll kill you myself if you do.”

“I won’t fuck you,” he said.

“That’s only because we’re watching you.”

Ike laughed under his breath as she hurried away.

When Shaz was gone, Billy took a step backward. If memory served him correctly, he was now at the very edge of the surveillance camera’s range. Framing the play was a powerful weapon when taking down a casino. By knowing where a surveillance camera was pointed, a cheater could position himself at the edge of the frame and be hidden enough to go about his business and not get caught.

He checked the receiver clipped to his belt. The green light was on. He found the power switch and flipped it off. The green light faded away.

“You ready?” he asked.

“I don’t know-what am I supposed to do?” Ike said.

“You’re going to walk away, and no one’s going to see you. Rock and Marcus can see us on the surveillance camera, but only barely. If you take a giant step backward, you’ll disappear from their view. When the Gypsy wedding party comes marching down the lobby, all eyes will be on them. That’s when you split.”

“You sure they won’t see me leave?” Ike asked.

“Positive.”

“Man, I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

“No more talking. I’m turning the receiver back on.”

He flipped the switch and the green light came on. He shifted his attention toward the elevator bank at the end of the lobby and waited for the Gypsies to show their faces.

Cory and Morris were sweating through their underwear, and it had nothing to do with the dry desert heat. Following Billy’s instructions, they’d used a fake driver’s license to rent a red Chevy Malibu from Hertz’s airport location, then driven the vehicle back to Galaxy. They’d allocated an hour for their task, which was plenty of time on a weekday but never enough for a Saturday. Stuck in a bottleneck on the Strip, the two fledgling hustlers stared at Galaxy’s flashing neon sign a mere stone’s throw away.

“Billy’s going to kill us,” Cory swore, clutching the wheel. “He’s already pissed about the golf scam. If we don’t show on time, he’ll fire us for sure.”

“You really think he’d do that?” Morris said.

“Damn straight. He doesn’t put up with any crap.”

“Maybe we should stop smoking dope before jobs.”

“There’s a thought.”

The idea of no longer being a member of Billy’s crew terrified Morris. He’d never held down a real job, and he had no intention of starting now. He threw open his door and stuck one foot onto the pavement.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cory asked.

“The resourceful professional failing to improve the method changes the moment,” Morris said. “Billy told me that once, said it came from a famous book on cheating. Don’t ask me what it means, because I don’t know.”

Leaving the rental, Morris walked calmly into the next lane, causing the already sluggish traffic to grind to a halt. Horns blared in disapproval and drivers shook their fists. Morris waved to Cory to cut in. The rental jumped to the front of the line, and Morris got back in.

“You’re a superstar,” Cory said.

They reached Galaxy’s back entrance with minutes to spare. There were a handful of available parking spaces by the back entrance. Cory backed into one and they both got out. Except for an NV Energy company crew working on a pole, everything looked George.

Cory popped the rental’s trunk. He reached in, hoisted a Kenneth Cole leather briefcase off the spare tire, and placed it inside a flat-handle, brown-paper shopping bag so that the briefcase would be hidden when he entered the casino.

“This feels heavy. Are you sure it’s the right weight?” he asked.

“I did the math,” Morris said. “Eight hundred money orders weigh ten point six pounds. That’s how much weight I put in the briefcase.”

“It feels heavier,” Cory said.

“It’s not. Get moving, will you? Gabe and Travis will be wondering where you are.”

“You going to wish me luck?”

“Luck is for amateurs. Get moving.”

“Why are you so pissy?”

“Who the fuck knows? Go.”

Cory entered the rear of the casino carrying the shopping bag. Twenty feet from the door, he spotted Gabe tapping the screen of a Jacks or Better video poker machine. Gabe was playing geezer and wore a floppy white fishing hat and wraparound shades that covered half his face. Cory came up beside the older man and dropped the shopping bag on the floor by his chair.

“Where you been?” Gabe said under his breath.

“Traffic was a bitch. You know how it is. Where’s Travis?”

“He’s scouting the cage area. You know why you show up to jobs early? Because then you’re not late.”

“I got here, didn’t I? Stop yanking my chain.”

Gabe peeled his eyes away from the video poker machine long enough to give Cory a blistering stare. His frown turned into a snarl. “You’re not wearing your disguise.”

“Shit, I forgot to put it on,” Cory stammered.

“How can you forget something like that?”

“I don’t know, man.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s still in the car.”

“A lot of fucking good it’s going to do there. Now the casino knows what you look like. If this thing blows up in our faces, it will be because of you.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You’re pathetic. Get out of here, before I smack you in the mouth. I mean it.”

“Stop talking to me like that.”

“Leave.”

Cory kicked the shopping bag. Hadn’t he and Morris helped this big sack of fertilizer settle his huge gambling debt? But it was the wrong time and the wrong place to be having this discussion, and he left the casino without another word.